“No, my lady, there are none. If I had not killed Mistress Hursel, I still would have lost my child. Now I shall lose both the babe and my life.”
“You must trust God’s mercy,” Eleanor said, and that, she believed with all her heart.
“God may forgive. In Him, I have great faith. It is men I do not trust.”
As the prioress began to find a few of the words she needed to offer hope, Janeta forcibly pushed her away.
The last thing Eleanor remembered was the odd sensation of flight. Then her head struck the corner of the window, and everything went dark.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Sister Anne turned from the window, where she had been musing, and saw Janeta run down the corridor. The maid often did leave in a hurry, but the sub-infirmarian wondered what crucial errand Prioress Eleanor might have sent her on. Then she realized the door to the chamber was open and she felt uneasy. With no further hesitation, she hastened to the room.
Eleanor was lying on the floor.
In terror, Anne knelt beside her and bent to check her breath. Then her prioress groaned. Her arm rose to touch her forehead.
“I shall offer a gift for this blessing,” Anne whispered to God and put her hand against the back of Eleanor’s head. She felt a lump and a bit of blood, but nothing felt soft or broken.
Eleanor’s eyes opened. “Where is she?”
Her eyes are unfocused, but her voice is strong, Anne thought with relief.
Eleanor struggled to sit up.
“Slowly!”
“Where is Janeta?”
“She has left but said nothing to me when she passed by. I assumed you had sent her on an errand. When I saw the open door, I came immediately.” She frowned. “I should have stopped her, but I knew of no reason to do so.” She braced Eleanor and helped her to sit back against the wall. “What has happened?”
“She killed both Mistress Hursel and Brother Martin. He was the father of her child. Mistress Hursel caught them lying together near the fishponds and threatened her with exposure if she did not pay her a fine price.” Eleanor felt behind her and touched the stone wall. “I must have hit my head against that.”
“Did she strike you?”
“I think she pushed me, but I’m not sure.” Eleanor closed her eyes as if incredibly weary. “I was trying to find a way to give her hope and failed. She knows she must hang after giving birth to her child.” She pressed a hand to her head and opened her eyes.
With a look of uncertainty, Anne gazed at the door which remained open.
Other than the wind whistling as it struck the side of a window, there were no sounds from the hall.
“I don’t know where Janeta fled, but we must catch her,” Eleanor said. “I worry little about the safety of others, but fear most what she might do to herself. Had she wanted to kill me, she could have. Instead, she tried only to keep me from impeding her escape. I do not think she intended any real harm.”
“You need care.”
“Leave me and seek Brother Thomas, Father Pasche, and Brother Damian, who should send his men out on a search for her. Lest any of them think she is a frail woman, and thus no danger to them, you may tell them that she was strong enough to crack open Brother Martin’s skull.” Eleanor winced but had managed to stand with Anne’s help. “If you can, please inform Prioress Emelyne of what has happened and then return to my side.” She glanced at the wine. ‘I swear to be obedient and do nothing until you are back.”
“No wine,” Anne said, jumping to her feet.
Then she ran out the door.
***
The sub-infirmarian found Brother Damian just emerging with his sister from her audience chamber. Anne concisely explained what had happened.
Prioress Emelyne cried out in shock.
“It is imperative that we find Janeta as soon as possible,” Anne said.
Damian nodded and said to his sister, “I will summon the brothers.” Then he raced toward the men’s house.
“What can I do?” Prioress Emelyne rested a hand on the nun’s arm.
“Send Sister Richolda to tend Prioress Eleanor until I return. I could not examine her properly before she ordered me to seek you and others to find Janeta.”
The prioress summoned a nun.
With a few words of thanks, the sub-infirmarian left to follow Brother Damian.
***
Brother Thomas was walking with a grim-faced Father Pasche toward the nuns’ priory when they saw Brother Damian running toward them with Sister Anne not far behind.
“I pray that there has not been another murder,” Thomas said to the priest.
Damian was clutching his stump. “We must find Janeta,” he panted. “She confessed to Prioress Eleanor that she had killed both Mistress Hursel and Brother Martin, and then she struck the prioress and fled. Have you seen her coming this way?”
“We have not,” Father Pasche replied.
“Has our prioress been seriously hurt?” Thomas felt an icy hand grip his heart.
The commander had turned away and was looking around frantically.
Thomas almost grabbed Damian in anger for not answering his question but drew back. “Our prioress?” he repeated, hissing through his teeth.
“She is well enough,” Anne replied as she joined the men. “A bump on the head. But she wants Janeta caught. She said she is less danger to others than to herself.”
“Why does she think that?” Father Pasche asked, inexplicably raising a thoughtful finger to his cheek as if he were about to engage them all in debate.
This did nothing to assuage Thomas’ brittle temper. “She is never wrong,” he snapped, glaring at the two men. “Where would the maid go? Friends? Family in the village or nearby?”
“None,” Damian said. “She came with her mistress and spent all her time at her side.”
“She was pregnant,” Sister Anne said, and then added, “Brother Martin was the father.”
The priest stared at her in disbelief. Brother Damian’s mouth dropped open.
“This is not the time to explain or ponder these details,” she said. “It is imperative that we find her. Now!”
Thomas gazed down the path to the preceptory, and next at the one leading to the fishponds. Had the maid run toward the village or, ignoring both the dangers of outlaws and sheriff’s men searching for her, chosen roads leading away from it? Had she been so terrified that she believed it possible to escape to some distant city or even to the coast where a fisherman might take her to Wales for the price of her body? Was there any reason, no matter how irrational, for her to go in any particular direction?
He felt powerless. He did not know this land, and he did not know the maid.
Then an idea struck him. “Where did Janeta and Brother Martin meet to lie together?”
“The fishponds,” Anne replied. Reading his intent, she added, “If you were outside the commandery for any time, you would have seen her had she come this way.”
“What other ways, besides this path, are there to reach the ponds?” Thomas looked at the two men. “I fear she may have gone there to commit self-murder.”
As if awakening from a bad dream, the priest blinked. “Follow me,” he said and set off back to the preceptory.
***
It took little time to reach the dirt path that broke away from the road just outside the walls of Mynchen Buckland Priory and led to the ponds.
The water had overflowed the banks in several places and washed away some of the path. Roots from the willows were even more exposed than usual. Here and there, they saw footprints in the soft mud. Because the maid was taller than many women, and thus had larger feet, none of them could say if the tracks were hers or those of a man from the village who might have hoped to net a few fish the night before.
Brother Thomas spott
ed one place where the earth had recently crumbled and collapsed into the pond. But the ground was not as muddy there, and he could not determine if any marks seen were from footprints.
No one could see any sign of the maid, nor did they spy a body.
Brother Damian sent for a lay brother and a rope.
When he arrived, the man flushed with embarrassment as he glanced at Sister Anne. She turned her back, and he stripped, tied the rope around his waist, and jumped into the water. Brother Thomas held fast to the rope end so he could drag the man to safety if he floundered in the mud and pond weeds.
Normally, the depth would have been only a couple of feet to allow for easy fishing, but the rains had swollen the ponds significantly. According to Brother Damian, the swifter currents from the melting snows had also hollowed out dangerous holes in the bed of the pond. A man could slip into one and drown if he could not swim.
“We can send a lay brother to the island in a boat if needed,” Brother Damian said, “but I doubt she could have reached it by now.”
“Could she swim?” Father Pasche asked.
No one knew.
Did she even come this way? Thomas asked himself, yet he felt certain she had. If Janeta had fled without any destination in mind, her sorrow might well have driven her first to the one place she had found a brief joy—or else her guilt required she die where she had killed the father of her child.
***
It was a long time before the man found Janeta.
She was dead. The long weeds had already wrapped around her body and neck yet only gently held her below the surface.
When they dragged her out, Brother Thomas immediately knelt by the body to whisper God’s comfort in the maid’s cold ear and offer a plea that He grant her mercy.
But had she died by accident or intent?
Both Father Pasche and Brother Damian wanted to know and turned to the sub-infirmarian for her opinion.
Brother Thomas and Sister Anne first examined the area where the girl had fallen in. The rim of the pond had collapsed, dragging some of the path with it. To keep further erosion from occurring, rocks had been placed to brace the dirt, but several of those had fallen into the water. A small exposed tree root arched above ground near the outside edge of the narrowed walkway.
“This seems to have been recently pulled up,” Thomas said to Anne and leaned down to wiggle the willow root. The ground on either side of the exposed root was loosened, and the earth was still damp.
Sister Anne nodded, then turned back to kneel by the corpse. She examined the maid’s body and struggled not to weep when she put a hand on the dead woman’s belly. How could she prove that this death was not a sin? Despite the two murders this maid had committed, and perhaps against all reason, Anne still did not want to add another transgression to weigh down Janeta’s soul.
But when she turned Janeta’s head to examine the other side, she knew that her prayer had been answered. There was a large gash on the woman’s forehead.
Anne stood up and studied the angle of the exposed root and glanced at where the rock-lined pond bank was. In her blind rush, Janeta must have tripped on the root which would have sent her tumbling headfirst against the stones lining the rim of the pond. The blow would not have been hard enough to kill, but it was probably enough to have stunned the maid. If so, she would have been unconscious when she fell into the pond. It would have been easy to drown under those circumstances.
The sub-infirmarian looked up at the men. “There is no evidence of self-murder,” she said. “Janeta may have been guilty of other grave crimes, but she did not commit this one.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Immediately after the morning Office, Prioress Eleanor followed the three Hospitallers into the cell. The door was unlocked, and the brightness of wax candles shone from within. The elderly lay brother had been replaced with a round-cheeked, older nun who now served the former prisoner.
They were met by a silent Amicia standing before the small altar where she had spent so many hours praying in the dark. No longer did she bear the appearance of a convicted and contrite murderer. Instead, she faced them with the quiet dignity of one who was accustomed to leading God’s servants with justice, wisdom, and piety. Her face was somber. Her hands were clasped and held close to her waist.
Discreetly taking a place to the rear of the party, Eleanor looked around at the still plain but more cheerful room. But now there was also an odd dusty scent in the air which she had never noticed before. With deep sadness, she wondered if the earth had already begun to claim the body of this woman long promised by Death.
Prioress Emelyne dropped to her knees. “My lady, you are free. All charges have been dropped. You were wrongly condemned for a transgression you did not commit.”
Without saying a word, Amicia gazed over the head of the kneeling woman at the two men standing behind. Her look expressed a simple question.
Father Pasche and Brother Damian quickly knelt as well.
“It was Janeta, your maid, who killed both Mistress Hursel and Brother Martin,” Emelyne continued and briefly explained the reasons for the crimes. “She has since died.”
Not a muscle moved in Amicia’s face, but Eleanor noticed that her eyes had closed for just an instant longer than the usual blink.
“After confessing to Prioress Eleanor, Janeta escaped and ran to the fishponds. The ground caved in, and she drowned.” Emelyne began to stumble over her words. “Brother Thomas whispered forgiveness in her ear.”
Amicia said nothing.
Eleanor concluded that the woman’s silence was unnerving the trio. The two men had begun to twitch.
Emelyne reached out with hands clenched together as if begging for mercy from a vengeful angel. “She was never tried for her crimes,” she said softly, “nor, according to Sister Anne of Tyndal Priory, is the manner of her death an obvious sin. We three have discussed begging the Prior of England for permission to bury her honorably so she may rise with others on the Judgment Day.” She waited for a reaction from the intimidating woman. If she had thought to gain some favor by this means, none was forthcoming.
“You may beg if you so desire. That is your right,” Amicia said in a calm voice, “but I shall not join in your plea. She was an unrepentant murderer. Whether or not she was tried, she admitted the crimes.”
Eleanor noticed that Amicia’s jaw was tensed, but not, she realized, with anger. This was iron self-control from a dying woman determined to survive this ordeal. Discreetly, she bowed her head in respect.
Swallowing her surprise over Amicia’s reply, Prioress Emelyne folded her hands more prayerfully and lowered her eyes with deep humility. “My lady, I have grievously sinned against you. Before I speak these words in Chapter, I must confess to you first. Overwhelmed as I was with wicked ambition to take your place as prioress here, I listened to evil counsel and willingly acted to unjustly depose you. I shut my ears to the weak arguments supporting your guilt and ignored the obvious truth that you were incapable of the crime.” She looked up at Amicia as if again seeking approval.
The woman remained silent. Only her eyes revealed a mix of sadness and desire to listen with compassion.
“With joy, I greet the news that your innocence has been proven, and therefore I now resign the position I stole from you, return the seal of office to your rightful possession, and ask that my crime be reported to the Prior of England.” She reached into her robe and pulled out a rolled parchment. “In this letter to him, I have summarized my transgressions. Until he renders his verdict, I will accept any punishment you deem appropriate.”
Amicia accepted the parchment and quickly read it. Placing it on the small table beside her, she said, “I accept your resignation and your desire to confess to our Prior in Clerkenwell. The letter will be sent to him by special messenger this day.” Briefly, she leaned on the table. “As for acce
pting the position of prioress, I shall do so, but only until such time as the nuns in Chapter are able to elect another in my place. As you all know, my health is rapidly failing, and I beg all that this election take place mercifully soon. Mynchen Buckland and the men’s commandery need stable leadership, and our work to fund the charity done by the Order in Outremer must continue with no further interruption.”
Emelyne slumped as if bone weary and struck with melancholy.
Eleanor wondered if the cause was shame and guilt, relief that her confession was over, or due to her loss of any hope that her sins would remain hidden.
“Henceforth, you shall be Sister Emelyne and dwell with the other nuns, those who hold no office in this priory, until such time as our Prior renders his verdict in your case. When he does so, we shall all honor his decision, whatever that might be. For my part, I willingly forgive any offense you may have committed against me and beg you to forgive any of mine against you.”
Emelyne murmured assent.
Prioress Amicia gestured for the chastised woman to rise and stand apart. Then she looked to her right and nodded at Father Pasche. “You have much to say to me as well.”
“I, too, have sinned against you, my lady, by falling victim to the Devil’s trickery. In the guise of Mistress Hursel, a wicked woman, he whispered vile rumors about you before you took vows. Although I distrusted them at the time they were reported to me, the rot infected my soul. When I saw you with blood on your hands, the festering tainted my judgment. On no evidence, I concluded you had escaped all punishment for one unproven crime, that this second showed a pattern of evil, and I was determined that you suffer for this latest.” Tears were coming down his cheeks. “My arguments for your guilt at the Chapter trial were spoken by Satan through my lips and using my tongue. I beg forgiveness and will accept any punishment you exact.”
Wild Justice Page 19