“Who are you?” He was sure he heard a delightful little tremor in her voice.
“My name is Elyas. I am chaplain to Lord de Bray.”
She narrowed her eyes accusingly. “You are no priest.”
“No, indeed, though I once studied as such. I suppose that I have been many things, but for the moment it suits me to be a priest. A humble chaplain, as you see.”
He spread his hands wide in a self-effacing gesture.
“You killed that man at the church.”
Elyas saw no reason to deny it. “I see that you are very well informed for someone living like a hermit.”
“Why did you do it?”
“The old man had something I wanted; or at least I believed he did. As for the rather garish display, that stems from a little disagreement I once had with the Church. As I said, I once trained for the priesthood. In truth I regret my actions. Not the message,” he said bitterly. “The message was deserved, but the act itself was rash, and it has made my life more difficult than it needed to be.”
“And the girl in the woods? You killed her as well.”
His eye twitched in annoyance. It irritated him that the girl had been found so quickly. He had been careless, and Alice’s accusation was a reminder of the fact. It was another sign that he needed to be gone from here, sooner rather than later, before things became uncomfortable.
“A man has his needs. I am sure you understand. Margareta was a sweet but silly girl. Betrothed to the blacksmith’s son, I believe. Naturally she had a head full of romantic notions, as they often do at that age, and she had thought that she ought to experience a little of life before she was wed.”
“Why did you have to kill the poor child?”
“I had not planned to do so. I thought only to give her an education that she might one day share with her blacksmith. You will laugh at me, but I had even brought a concoction of wild herbs for her to take afterward so as to spare her any complications. I am sure I need not tell you that a tincture of a particular plant, in the right measure, can be quite an effective abortificant. I have found a use for it before. You see, I was quite thoughtful, really, and did not intend her any harm. But then she decided that she would rather retain her chastity. As you can imagine, I was more than a little disappointed. I felt cheated, and she paid the price. And once the deed was done, I could hardly have her speaking of what happened. It would not at all be consistent with the image I have worked so hard to create.”
“You did not need to kill her. She would not likely have spoken unless you got her with child. You know the way of the world for we women. The shame and the blame would have been hers to bear. Men ravish women with impunity every day.”
“Hmm, perhaps you are right. Unfortunately, she resisted me, and in my passion I was not entirely gentle with her. Had she submitted willingly enough, she would still be alive today. I suppose there is a lesson of sorts in there for both of us, no?”
“How many people have you killed?”
“You make me sound like a monster. I do not kill for pleasure, madam. Truth be told, I would rather not kill at all. Sometimes, however, it is unavoidable. If you must know, the first time was a monk, a Cistercian brother who had made certain unwelcome advances. He did so on several occasions, in fact. Once he even brought one of his brethren with him, and between them they made sure that it was a long and unpleasant night for me.”
Elyas grimaced sourly in distaste.
“I was not yet fifteen years old. Anyway, I killed them both. How could I not? There have been others since. I cannot say how many.”
That was not true. The number was twenty-four, and he remembered each one vividly. After the monks, he had lured men into back alleys, promising them pleasure and then cutting their throats for the coin they carried. Such a crude living did not appeal to him for long. He felt himself to be above such things and had learned to put his monastic education to good use, assuming positions in good households or serving as an itinerant chaplain. The veneer of respectability allowed him to inveigle himself into people’s lives, learning their intimate secrets and using those secrets against them. It had all become a bit of a game for him, really. He had learned the value of both threats and violence, and when best to use each.
And then there were the women. Some he would force to his will. Others he would take as it pleased him. He found that he had less interest in those who offered themselves to him freely. He much preferred to take what he wanted. Or, better yet, to trick some hapless thing out of her chastity, as he thought he had done with Margareta.
Alice interrupted his thoughts. “Murder comes so easily to you, then, that you no longer recollect the deeds?”
Elyas snorted loudly. “You are a fine one to accuse me so. What is it now—three dead husbands? Or is it four? Tsk, tsk, tsk. And I thought I was rash. You really must learn to control yourself. But let us cease these accusations. I find it tiresome. You have nothing to fear from me. I shall not harm you, and I can keep a secret as well as any man—for a price, of course. I am sure you managed to spirit away some valuables. I know you to be a wealthy woman.”
Alice stared at him levelly and spoke through gritted teeth. “I need what I brought with me if I am to begin again. It is all I have.”
“Oh, I have needs as well, and you are in no position to argue, dear. But I am not heartless. I shall only take half. Let us say the coin. I am sure you have it hidden somewhere around here. You shall still have your jewels, and your … charms. I am sure you will soon find some rich old man who would be more than willing to spread your legs. After all, I understand it is what you do best. And you have been well paid for the deed, have you not?”
“And if I give you the coin?”
“I think it fair to say that we have a mutual interest in discretion. And unlike the girl, it is not as if I need fear that you will expose me. I shall not harm you.”
Lies. All lies. He had no intention of taking that risk. She would be lying beneath the leaves tonight, in a shallow grave. He would walk away with the coin and jewelry both. He might stuff one of her more gaudy baubles into her mouth as a parting gift. Yes, that appealed to him. He would prize her teeth apart and cram it halfway down her gullet. A sort of symbolic gesture, a profound message that those who found her would struggle to interpret. It was the kind of thing that set him apart from ordinary killers.
“But honestly, Alice—may I call you Alice?” He did not wait for a reply. “Honestly, Alice, it is not as if you have a choice. I could take what I want. All of it, if I were so inclined. I think I am being more than generous with you. And speaking of your charms,” he said, setting down his staff on the table, “I believe I deserve a little something in return for my generosity, to seal our understanding. These village girls are well enough, I suppose, but I prefer my women with a little more experience. I find that the fruit always tastes best when fully ripened, so to speak. And I can tell that you are ripe for the plucking, Alice.”
There was something exquisite to his mind about having her whore herself and then pay him for taking his pleasure. He’d had no such intentions when he had set out that night. But then he had imagined her to be a woman well past her prime. He could not have been more wrong. He felt himself stirring at the sight of her. She was undeniably attractive, but there was something else about her. An allure. A seductiveness. Something few women possess naturally. In some ways it was a curse. So often such women unwittingly became prey for men like him. Life could be so unfair.
“Well, what say you, Dame?”
He smiled broadly, showing her his full set of white teeth. He had always been proud of his smile, and he had found that many an evil thought and deed could be successfully hidden behind a nice smile.
CHAPTER 23
Cecily hesitated at the door to Isabella’s chamber when she heard the low murmur of voices from within. She could hear Isabella’s voice distinctly but could not tell for certain who was with her. Cecily wondered whether she should lea
ve and return later but quickly decided against such a course. If she left now, she might not come back at all. So, Cecily armed herself with her most charming smile, knocked, and entered.
Isabella was sitting in front of the grotesque mirror in her nightdress, brushing her hair. She liked doing that, even though she had a perfectly good maid.
Cecily looked about the room in confusion. “Oh, pardon me, Isabella. I had thought I heard someone else in here with you.”
Isabella barely inclined her head by way of recognition. “Oh, that. No, I was just praying. That must have been what you heard.”
Cecily thought it a little ironic that Isabella chose to pray in front of her mirror while grooming herself, rather than using the prie-dieu of which she and Justus had made such a big fuss—so much for her liking to spend time on her knees. She was almost certain that she had heard two people, though, and might even have suspected Isabella of having been engaged in a vigorous conversation with herself, were the notion not quite so absurd and more than a little disturbing.
Reminding herself firmly of why she had come, Cecily bit down on her cynicism and resumed her now slightly forced, but she hoped still ingratiating, smile.
“You look lovely tonight, Isabella. Your hair shines like spun gold.”
It was a specious compliment, but the kind of thing Isabella liked to hear, and she did indeed pause her brushing long enough to smile into the mirror at Cecily, even if the smile was distant and never reached her eyes. Still, it was a start, and Cecily was reasonably encouraged.
“I could brush it for you if you liked.”
Cecily almost gagged. She could not believe she had offered to do such a thing. Thankfully, Isabella gave Cecily another hollow smile and shook her head.
“I just wanted to thank you, Isabella, for your discretion when we met with the Dominican. It might have become awkward for me were you to have mentioned certain things.”
Isabella rounded on Cecily, her face a mask of anger.
“Don’t thank me so soon!” she hissed.
Cecily was taken completely by surprise and took a step back, finding herself actually a little frightened by Isabella’s vehemence.
“I know you hate me, Cecily. I have known it since the day I arrived. You were jealous that another woman might take your place in this house. That she might share a place in your father’s heart.”
“That’s not true!” exclaimed Cecily loudly, though inwardly she had to admit that she was not overly fond of her father’s wife. She thought her a silly and vapid creature who was never likely to prove a good companion for him. To begin with, she was far too young, and she was more than a little peculiar, what with her imagined illnesses and her vagaries. Not to mention the strange fascination with personal grooming.
“It is true and you know it. You have made it very clear, always acting as if you are better than me. You think you are so smart, with all your silly books and papers. Don’t think I don’t notice how you are always trying to use big words around me, and how you just have to speak in French or Latin every now and then to make me look foolish.”
There was something to that also, Cecily had to admit.
“Not once did you think how difficult it might be for me in a strange household, or that I might be lonely so far from my own family.”
Isabella was spitting venom. Her face was all screwed up, and she clutched the hairbrush in a white-knuckled fist like she might use it as a weapon.
“No, Isabella,” protested Cecily, “I have always wanted you to feel welcome.”
That too was a bit of a stretch. Actually, it was a blatant lie.
Isabella’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “Is that so? Is that why you still hold the keys to my own house, the stores, and the chambers? Keys that should rightly be mine to keep. It is I, and not you, who is lady of this house. The keys and everything they unlock belong to me by my right as a wife.”
Cecily blinked in surprise, once more taken aback by Isabella’s anger.
“But … but, Isabella,” she spluttered. “We had supposed—no, we believed—that you did not wish to manage the household.” Cecily searched her mind for a polite way to say what she was thinking. “That you preferred to have somebody else deal with those details … under your supervision of course.”
Isabella’s eyes flicked to the side, unconsciously conceding the point.
“Should you wish to have the keys, I would of course yield them to you. I shall fetch them at once.”
“Well, that is not really the meat of the problem,” demurred Isabella in a decidedly more conciliatory tone, evading what had become a difficult subject.
Cecily decided to seize the olive branch. “If I have appeared unwelcoming to you, that is entirely my fault, and I am truly sorry. Perhaps we can try anew. Could we do that, Isabella? We could be friends, like sisters.”
Cecily’s attempt at reconciliation had quite the opposite effect to that which she had intended, and Isabella’s face contorted with rage.
“Friends? Why on earth would I want to be friends with you? You who begrudge my son his inheritance, who plot against him? Your own brother.”
Cecily was almost at a loss for words. “But … that is ridiculous. It is simply not true,” she finally managed to say. And this time she spoke the truth.
“It is too!” Isabella snapped back. “He is your brother, and yet you plot against him. I see you with his father, huddled in secret discussions. Whispering all the time. Don’t think I don’t know what you are up to. You smile and you simper, but I know what you are, Cecily.” Isabella turned to face the mirror and resumed brushing her hair, tugging angrily at it. “And what is it exactly that you are doing with the young man from Lincoln, Cecily? I see the way you look at him, with shameful eyes. I know what you want from him. What you imagine him doing to you. It’s not fair that you should get him when I am stuck with that flatulent old boor.”
“Isabella, you are imaging things.”
“Oh really? I don’t think so. I see you making eyes at him. I’ll wager you think about him at night, don’t you, when you are alone in your bed? That you think of him touching you … Don’t try to deny it. I know it is true. Well, you cannot trust him. He will betray you. All men betray you in the end.”
Cecily was becoming mad herself at all the accusations being tossed her way. “And yet you trust the friar, Isabella. Isn’t he a man?”
Isabella paused her brushing and looked at her reflection thoughtfully.
“He is different,” she eventually concluded.
“Different? The man’s a fanatic. He’s as mad as—”
Cecily bit down on her words, but not quickly enough. Isabella whirled around. “As mad as whom, Cecily?” she hissed.
Cecily did not answer.
“As mad as whom?”
Cecily shook her head. “Isabella—” she began, but got no further.
“And what is it that you and your maid get up to so secretly at night anyway? Where is it that you go, Cecily? Where is it that you send her?”
Cecily gasped and then went on the offensive herself.
“I am not the only one with secrets, am I, Isabella? What secrets are you keeping pray tell? Why did your family’s old steward come here? What did he say to you? What is it that you know?” It was Isabella’s turn to be shocked. “And what was all that mummery with the friar, Isabella? Playing the helpless girl and batting your eyelids at him. Perhaps you think of him at night, in your bed, touching you.”
Isabella gaped. “How dare you! He is my confessor! And he is very interested in your midnight frolics, I can tell you.”
A sudden chill swept through Cecily’s body. It was a long moment before she could speak.
“What have you said to him, Isabella?”
Isabella turned back to her mirror and began brushing her hair again.
“Isabella? What have you told him?”
“Friar Justus was kind enough to hear my confession,” she replied in a much cal
mer tone, “and he asked whether I had seen anything wicked. I could scarce lie to him now, could I? Not in confession.” Her eyes became wide and round, all doe-like innocence. “Why? Is there something he should not know about? Are you doing something wicked, Cecily?”
Cecily’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper: “You have no idea what you have done, Isabella.”
Isabella glanced at Cecily in her mirror. “Do I not? Perhaps I am not as simple as you think. It is not I who is stealing about at night. It is not I who am plotting to steal my brother’s inheritance.”
Cecily stood motionless for a long time, the horrifying ramifications of what Isabella had done flooding through her mind, and then she walked from the chamber on unsteady legs, leaving Isabella staring calmly at her reflection.
CHAPTER 24
Thomas had still not been able to speak with Isabella, but since his discussion with Alice, he had been turning her strange behavior over and over again in his mind. How she avoided him. How she refused to answer his questions. Her mysterious relationship with Roger Lacy. And he had become more convinced than ever that she was in some way at the heart of this mystery. He recalled vividly now the first time he had met her in the little stone chapel and how she had emerged so furtively from Elyas’s private cell, a guilty look on her face, almost as if Thomas had caught her in the midst of some indiscretion. At the time he had attributed Isabella’s conduct to whimsy, but the inconsistencies in her explanation were now all too apparent to him. Why would she wait for the chaplain in his cell? Why would she not simply have summoned the man to her chambers or even to the private chapel in the manor house? For such a lady to be waiting for the chaplain in his personal quarters seemed to Thomas unseemly and unlikely. It had been pricking at him and had brought him back to the chapel, to where he had seen her that day.
“A bird does not shit in its own nest.” Wasn’t that what Alice had said to him?
Thomas pushed the door to the small room ajar, letting it swing slowly inward, the light from the chapel spilling in to illuminate the inner gloom of the chaplain’s cell.
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