Eleanor answered his concern with an ambiguous inclination of her head and caught the mild curse he muttered under his breath. “The favor I ask is a simple thing. I did not wish to interrupt your work, but the poor dead body, lying there in the mud, cries out for pity. I beg your permission to have it borne to the chapel. If you and your men are finished examining the sad corpse for clues, will you not allow the mercy? It seems a cruelty to let the body lie there in public view as if it belonged to some common criminal.”
“Gladly.” He shouted for two men close by to approach. “These will carry the dead man away as you wish. In fact, there is little enough the body has to reveal. The method of killing is common enough amongst those of low rank, and I expect we shall have the murderer in custody before long.”
Which poor, and most probably innocent soul will you weigh down with chains, the prioress wondered, the thought chilling her. Mistress Maud seemed to have the true measure of this man. Although she had intended to tell him what she had witnessed from that window, doubts stopped all speech. The sheriff’s outrageous behavior to her, when he knew she was a religious but not her rank, suggested he had little regard for those he deemed of little merit. Would he not toss aside any information that threatened an easy solution and one that would offend no one of high station?
There was another concern that troubled her as well. With the death of King Henry, a shift in power at court was inevitable. There was no guarantee that her father’s former influence would continue under King Edward. If the winds were changing even before the new king’s return, and Sir Reimund was cognizant of the fresh direction, he might choose either to ignore her testimony or somehow use it for ill if he saw political advantage in doing just that.
Prudence suggested she delay giving her evidence until she was sure it would be used in a proper manner.
“You said you were staying here because a member of your party had fallen ill?”
Eleanor tensed. Sir Reimund‘s expression reminded her of the look in a feral creature’s eyes before it killed the prey. “One of my charges, a young woman from our priory who seeks advice on entering God’s service with us,” she replied uneasily.
“And does she mend?”
Why would this man suddenly show such interest in the health of a potential nun? Did he know her family? “She remains ill,” she said warily, “although there are hopeful signs of improvement.”
“Ah! That means you must remain here for some time. I shall have a man sent to guard you.”
“There is no need,” she protested. “I was accompanied by several men and am sure you will require the services of all yours.”
“Your safety is my responsibility while you are in this shire, my lady. If I did not assign one of mine to protect you, and you came to some grief, I would suffer well-deserved censure for my carelessness. The man I will select shall be discreet and respect your vocation, but he must remain nearby at all times until this foul killer is captured.”
She had been bested! Eleanor seethed. This man, who must spend time at court, had apparently learned more about her than her father’s position. Why had she not realized this? Her aunt had told her that her exploits against those in Satan’s thrall had reached many ears. Sir Reimund had obviously heard the tales of how she had brought some to justice.
“After these men have removed the corpse to the chapel and out of profane sight, I am sure you will want to follow immediately and pray for the poor man’s soul.” With a deep bow, he turned and walked away, his bearing confident as if he had just won at chess.
Eleanor watched him, grinding her teeth with fury. This sheriff was no fool. Although she had never intended to meddle, he must have feared she might do just that. By placing her under guard, however reasonable that might seem, he effectively prevented her from doing anything that might embarrass him or keep him from making a quick arrest, one made with minimal concern for justice but maximum benefit to his ambitions.
“But you erred in your judgment of me,” she muttered, “and now shall pay both for your insult and your presumption.”
A lanky young man approached, most probably her guard.
She smiled sweetly at the sheriff’s man. As she remembered her brother once saying, an army might lose battles but still win the war.
Chapter Fourteen
Eleanor and Thomas knelt by the corpse and begged God’s mercy for Tobye’s soul. Yesterday, the man might have been handsome enough to entice any woman to tumble with him in the stable straw. Today, his mutilated body proved inspiration only to hungry maggots and priests seeking an image for a sermon on mortal decay.
“Might your guard join us here?” the monk asked in Latin, with no change in intonation from that of prayer.
Without hesitation, the prioress answered in Latin as if replying to a priest’s call for a congregational response. “He waits outside and gladly enough. I told him we wished to pray alone for the groom’s unshriven soul. The guard must be new at this work because his face turned green at the sight of this poor man’s slit throat, then paled at the thought that his spirit might still be hovering. Fortunately,” she added with evident amusement, “you do not fear ghosts, as I learned at Amesbury.”
After all this time, Prioress Eleanor’s Latin proficiency should not surprise him, but Thomas knew that most women of religious vocation, even those holding high rank, had little knowledge of it. Now that she had reminded him of the events at Amesbury, however, he remembered Sister Beatrice, a woman possessed of a most formidable mind and education, who had taught Prioress Eleanor and just happened to be her aunt.
“How I wish Sister Anne were here,” he replied, hoping his hesitation did not suggest he had changed his mind about wandering spirits.
“She has tutored you well enough, and I have long trusted your ability to note significant details. Please be quick in your examination of that body, however, lest my guard grow suspicious or someone else joins us in this small chapel. Convey in Latin what this sad corpse tells you.”
Rising quickly, Thomas walked over to the body and stood where he could keep the chapel door in view. He pulled the rough sheet down just far enough to expose Tobye’s naked chest, then began touching his cheeks and neck.
Eleanor continued intoning prayers.
“He has not yet fully stiffened.” He checked the hands, arms, chest, and shoulders. “I cannot be sure, since I did not see the body where it lay, but I see no evidence of a struggle. No blood on the fingers nor obvious flesh under the nails, only the usual mud and dirt. No unusual cuts, bruises or scratches.”
The prioress gave a short answer to suggest they were continuing the call and response of a set prayer.
The monk now bent to study the throat cut. “If the groom was asleep when he was attacked, either a man or a woman might have slit his throat. It was cleanly done, which suggests little or no hesitation about committing the deed. That points to a man, one who hunts or has experience in battle. The killer must be skilled with a knife to cut so efficiently and quickly, nor was it deeper than required to send the soul to judgement. Thus I might conclude the deed was not done in the heat of anger.” Fearing he had heard a sound, he glanced up.
Eleanor looked over her shoulder as she continued her prayers, then gestured for the monk to continue.
Thomas examined the head before quickly pulling the sheet over the body. “That is all my poor skills tell me.” Quietly returning to his prioress’ side, he knelt and whispered, “The lord of this manor could surely have killed the man who had put horns on his head.”
“Or else a woman, skilled with cutlery, who became enraged when another supplanted her in the bedding straw. We must look further into this crime,” she continued to chant.
Puzzled, Thomas looked at his prioress. “I am your servant in all things, my lady, but will you give me leave to ask a question?”
“Granted, Brother.”
“How far will we pursue this? I understand that the king’s man has a certain repu
tation, but reason also argues that those who live here know the nature and relationships of their fellows better than we. Surely they will provide good evidence and force the king’s man to render a proper justice. As strangers, I question our efficiency in this matter. As guests, do we have the right to interfere?”
Eleanor glanced at the door behind them. It remained shut. “Were this king’s man as conscientious as our crowner, we would reveal all we know and let him find the killer. Based on my brief conversation with him, however, I think he lacks a certain integrity. Yet his high position in this county may cause many to be anxious about retaliation if they present evidence which does not suit his purpose. Fear of retaliation may shatter their honorable intentions and render them silent.”
Thomas still looked troubled.
“Yet you would be right to question me further, Brother. My ardor for probing deeper into the matter is partly born of my own sinful craving for retribution. This king’s man showed disrespect for my vocation before he knew my rank. If he has so little regard for the sanctity of a simple nun, he will show equal contempt for justice if it interferes with his ambition. The courtesy demanded by our position as guests may be affected by that.”
Thomas’ face flushed. “What did he do?”
“You had stepped away on my command,” she continued, answering his unspoken concern, “and thus could not have seen him grasp my arm, an indignity no man commits against a woman dedicated to God.” Her Latin now fell again into the cadence of chant. “But feel no anger on my behalf. Honor shall be assuaged if he is forced to look beyond his self-interest to find the murderer. As we had decided before, we need not solve the crime, but we must set him irrevocably on the path he should take, whatever direction he may prefer. The difference between our original intent and the current one is only the force with which we shall push him. That purpose can only succeed if we produce proof which he cannot hide and of sufficient strength that he cannot dispute it.”
“What do you wish of me, my lady?”
“First, examine the stable for any evidence since no one seems to have done that. Next, learn what gossip is about, for you are sleeping in the kitchen and have access to many of the servants here. Take care not to arouse suspicion in this and remember that someone wields a knife with stealth and efficiency. You must not fall victim to the killer.”
“And you, my lady? Will you also take care? I fear that you will not remain apart from these troubles.”
“Do I not have yon lout outside the door in constant attendance?” Eleanor sighed. “Yet he bears no blame for the duty he was commanded to perform. Perhaps he may even prove more useful in protecting me than stopping me from doing what this king’s man feared I might. You and I shall meet for prayer before breaking fast tomorrow, and we shall chant the Office as well as our findings in this matter of justice.”
As one they loudly sang, “Amen!”
Thomas carefully opened the chapel door, and the pair stepped outside. There was no sign that anyone had lingered outside to overhear, but Eleanor’s confidence in her assigned protection diminished when she looked at her guard.
All their caution to speak in a tongue he would not understand was unneeded.
The man was sound asleep.
Chapter Fifteen
“How does Mariota?” Eleanor shut the chamber door quietly behind her.
Maud raised a cautionary finger to her lips and signaled for the prioress to follow her out of the room. When the widow saw the sheriff’s man leaning against the wall outside, however, she stepped back in dismay.
“Nothing more untoward has occurred,” Eleanor said. “Sir Reimund ordered a guard to protect me until Tobye’s murderer is captured.” Her voice gave no hint of her opinion about this gesture.
The man yawned, then flushed with evident embarrassment when his still sleepy eyes focused on the widow. “I beg…”
Maud waved his attempted apology aside. “I know the lad,” she explained to the prioress. Her composure restored, she turned her back to the man and lowered her voice. “The girl’s fever has broken, but she remains perilously weak. The barley broth seemed to help, and I did persuade her to sip some made of chicken, a remedy I have found to be more effective against a fever than those made of other meat. Still, she has little appetite and strength. Just before you arrived, she fell asleep again. May God be thanked, however, her breathing is easier.”
“There is reason for optimism?”
“When a fever snaps, there is always cause to hope, but Death is most stubborn, as we all well know. His rattling breath is still loud in the room.”
Eleanor nodded. “I shall give you relief by taking my turn watching over her. Since morning, you have had no respite and must be very weary.”
“Have you broken your fast, my lady?”
Eleanor bristled at the woman’s question but quickly prayed for calmer humors to return. After the sheriff’s insolence, her pride ached as if suffering an open wound against which salt had just been rubbed. She had grown too sensitive, she decided. The question had been brusquely asked, but she could truly find no ill intent.
“I beg forgiveness if I caused offense, my lady.” Maud’s pink cheeks deepened in color as the prioress remained silent. “My husband used to chide me about my thoughtless speech.”
“No disrespect was noted. I was only lost in some trivial thought,” Eleanor replied, relieved by the apology. Not only was she grateful for the widow’s competent care of Mariota, as well as her intervention when they all staggered in from the storm, but Eleanor had always preferred blunt honesty to falsehood sweetened with honeyed phrase. “Kind intent is never thoughtless,” she added with a smile.
The widow exhaled in obvious relief.
“As for nourishment, perhaps you would share some bread with me.” Eleanor gestured toward the stairs leading below. “I would welcome your company, and I assume you trust the servant you left in the chambers to be competent in her care of my charge.”
“If I did not, I never would have let her…” Maud firmly shut her mouth.
“Nor did I have any cause to doubt your decision.”
The two women smiled at each other, relieved to be in perfect understanding.
Walking toward the stone stairs, Eleanor did not bother to look over her shoulder.
Indeed, her guard was close behind.
***
When the trio arrived in the hall downstairs, the widow ordered a servant to bring some ale with fresh bread and led the prioress to a trestle table set by the fireplace. Eleanor invited the young guard to share the offerings when the jug and platter were put down in front of them.
His stomach growling thanks to match his words, he clutched a handful of bread, a pottery mug filled with new ale, and cheerfully settled at the far end of the table. Munching loudly, he left the prioress and the widow to chatter away as he perhaps assumed all women, whatever their rank or vocation, were wont to do.
Maud shivered despite the merry fire that snapped close by. “I pray this murder will not cause fear to invade the hearts of you and your party, my lady. This should be a place of refuge and no one should suffer unease.” She gestured toward the hall door. “Not that there haven’t been quarrels enough in my memory, but no more than is usual between men and most certainly never a slaying. We may all sin, but we are not prone to breaking that particular commandment against killing other mortals!”
“And I pray that the steward will not regret his kindness, concluding that our arrival has cursed him and somehow brought this wickedness about.”
“Master Stevyn is not superstitious, my lady.” Her eyes twinkled. “Some might even reproach him for not having sufficient faith in spiritual things, although his first wife most certainly made up for any lack.”
“Earlier, Brother Thomas and I knelt by Tobye’s corpse for some time, praying for his soul. We hoped that God would look favorably on our feeble pleas for mercy. Was the man especially wicked? I ask in case we did not pray long
or ardently enough.”
“He was no greater sinner than most of us, my lady.” She rubbed her forefinger against her chin as she considered the prioress’ question. “A good man with horses. I’ll give him that. Never mistreated the beasts and had skill enough for healing their ills.”
Eleanor leaned forward, desiring to give the impression that she was just enjoying a good gossip, should anyone nearby care.
The guard seemed quite unconcerned as he continued to gnaw his food with evident content. Even the complaints of his growling stomach had muted.
“Had Tobye served this manor long?” the prioress asked. “The loss of a valued servant would be a great one.”
“Valued? Well, I suppose by Master Stevyn, a man that loves his hunting and will forgive much if his horses are healthy.” She shifted her weight on the bench, then quickly sipped her ale. “As for me, I found the fellow rude.”
“Indeed?”
“My words were ill-chosen, my lady. He did what was required and served the steward well. That was all anyone expected of him. In truth, he rarely spoke much, unless a fair woman came by. Then he was all smiles and bows and pleasing phrases.”
Eleanor did not think the widow’s reddened complexion was caused by the warming fire. Was it jealousy or sadness she heard in the woman’s words? As the prioress looked at Mistress Maud’s face, she concluded once again that she might not have been a beauty in her younger days, but surely she had had enough charm with those dimples and pink cheeks that young men smiled, bowed, and graced her with pretty enough phrases. Was it youth the widow now missed, resenting the loss more than she did Tobye’s flattering attention to others? Or did the serpent of jealousy coil around her heart?
A chill now coursed through the prioress as she suddenly realized how quickly youth must pass. For those without her faith and vocation, how did they cope if the heart still longed for love songs after the hair had grayed and the breasts sagged?
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