Valley of Dry Bones

by Priscilla Royal

  Nodding, Ralf bent closer to her ear. “I may have many reasons to respect your monk, my lady, but Sister Anne was the better apothecary when they had their shop as husband and wife in the world. Might you call on her to examine…?”

  Eleanor whispered, “I had left her with Lady Avelina in the nun’s gallery. The moment I recognized this man as the lady’s servant, I sent for them both. If you will begin the inspection of the corpse, Sister Anne will be here shortly. Meanwhile, I must talk to the boy who discovered the dead man.”

  “Then I should be with you.” Ralf glanced at the child clutching a hand bell to his chest as if it were a talisman that would banish the horror of what he had seen. “The lad is terrified,” he said and shook his head with sadness.

  “He must recover from the cruel shock of such a discovery. I will question him gently and report to you what he says. If further information is needed, might you speak with him later?”

  Readily agreeing, the crowner walked away.

  Eleanor signaled to Brother John that he should take the boy into the chapel. For a moment she watched as Ralf knelt by the corpse. Then she bowed her head and followed the novice master.

  Inside, the dusty air was heavy with heat and pungent with the stink of fear.

  The boy trembled as if a north wind had cut him with an icy lash. The novice master hugged him close. “Tell Prioress Eleanor what you saw, and that shall be the end of it,” he said.

  At least the boy was young enough to shiver without the added pain of a man’s embarrassment, she thought, and prayed he would not suffer tormenting dreams. Glancing at the novice master, she saw he shared her fear and knew he would be kind.

  “We were waiting for Brother John to give us the sign to roar, my lady. I was at the back, near the open door to the grounds, and heard a retching noise, then gurgling.” The lad’s voice cracked with remembered fright. “There was a dreadful reek.” He began to weep.

  “He went to look, my lady,” Brother John said, “and saw the man’s body jerking as he died.” Caressing the lad’s head, he smiled down at him with evident pride. “Had he not shouted so loud to alert us, we might not have known about this.”

  “Well done, lad!” Eleanor raised an eyebrow, suggesting many unspoken questions.

  “If I may?” The monk looked down at the novice, then tilted his head toward the nave.

  “Of course,” she replied.

  Brother John led the child away.

  When the monk returned, he was alone. “He just vomited. I sent him to the dormitory with a lay brother.” He glanced back with evident concern.

  “Although there are answers to seek, I shall not keep you long, Brother. The boy needs you by his side for comfort and prayer.”

  “What do you want to know, my lady? He told me little else.”

  “I am interested in details other than the death the boy witnessed. Do you know why Kenard was here, rather than with the others in the nave?”

  “As I was going over a few of the parts with the choir before the performance, he approached me and asked a kindness. He begged permission to listen to our singing and to watch from the chapel. I saw no good reason to deny him, especially when he added that he was interested in the way some of the effects were created. He swore not to distract the boys, and, since he claimed to be the servant to the Lady Avelina, I agreed.”

  Eleanor gasped. “He spoke?”

  “Aye.”

  “Clearly?”

  “Plainly enough.” The monk’s brow furrowed with confusion.

  “Then you have witnessed a miracle, Brother. That servant was mute.”

  Crossing himself, the monk looked thoughtful. “Most certainly he did speak, although his voice was hoarse.” He hesitated. “I wonder that God would grant him the mercy of this cure only to let him die so soon after.”

  With relief she realized the novice master had not grasped that the death was possibly a murder. “We do not always know God’s intentions,” she said and quickly returned to her questions before he grew curious about matters she was not ready to discuss. “After you agreed to the man’s plea, what did he do during the performance? You may have been in the nave for a brief time, acting the part of a wicked king. For the most part, you were in the chapel. I ask to better comprehend the cause of his death.”

  “There was nothing in his manner that suggested ill-health. His demeanor was most solemn. I assumed that was out of reverence for the story he was about to see enacted.”

  “Where did he stand? Did he speak to the choir?”

  Shaking his head, John grew pensive. “He stood near the door, saying he did not want to be in our way. After the Play of Daniel began, I believe he spoke to no one.”

  “Only you, the men who sang the individual parts, and the novice choir were here?”

  “That was all, and those are well-known to me.”

  Although the novice master’s expression revealed that he now understood this death to be unnatural, Eleanor was grateful he had checked his curiosity. “No others, secular or religious, joined you in the chapel even briefly?”

  “No one, and yet… This detail may mean nothing.” John chewed on a finger. “He carried a wineskin with him. Now that I think more on it, one lad did ask him for a drink to moisten his throat before singing. The man refused, offering some jest in reply. I thought little of it all, but, when I took up my scepter to follow the choir into the church, he drained the contents like a man with a punishing thirst. I did fear he would become drunk. When I returned, he was sitting quietly by the door and hunched over as if praying. I forgot my concern and he said nothing more. We were too busy with our roles to pay him further heed.”

  Eleanor felt overwhelmed with surprises. Kenard had suddenly recovered his voice, if he had ever truly lost it. He had come to the chapel, wineskin in hand, like a Roman eager to be entertained by some pagan play. And he was far more interested in the details of the performance than most servants would be.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and hoped that the pain throbbing over her left eye did not herald one of her blinding headaches.

  Although the servant had given a reason for wanting to watch from the chapel, and she agreed there had been no cause to deny him, she doubted he wanted to learn how boys roared to depict lions. There had to be another explanation for not joining the men in the nave. Was he a man who found tender boys sexually appealing? And why refuse to give a sip of wine to a young novice on a hot day? All but the most cruel or selfish would have granted the request gladly. How little she knew of this man. She was frustrated by too much ignorance.

  “My lady?”

  Feeling as if she had just been awakened from a deep sleep, she blinked and focused on Brother John’s face.

  His cheeks were pale with worry. “The boy…”

  “Go to him, Brother. I have kept you too long, and he needs your gentle comfort. Should I have more questions, I will summon you.”

  When the monk ran off to tend his novice, Eleanor gritted her teeth, spun around, and went outside to see the corpse.

  ***

  As the prioress emerged from the chapel, she saw Sister Anne bending over the body.

  Touching first the neck and face of the corpse, the nun then knelt and sniffed at Kenard’s hands and mouth. Next, she studied his wide-open eyes. “Is there anything left in that?” She pointed to the wineskin on the ground.

  Ralf reached down for the object and shook it near his ear. “Little enough. Do you want the thing?”

  The sub-infirmarian stood up, stretched as if her back ached, and nodded.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Eleanor saw Father Eliduc standing close to Avelina. Had the prioress not seen this woman before, she might have concluded she was more aged than she was. Bent and trembling, Avelina clenched her hands. She reminded Eleanor of a prisoner, facing the gallows, who was belatedly begging God for forgiveness.

  When the priest saw Eleanor, he whispered something to the lady and rushed to the pri
oress’ side. “This is outrageous,” he hissed. “While you were absent, that nun has been circling the corpse like a common whore seeking custom. When I protested, she claimed you had given permission! Had a bishop witnessed this, he would have been shocked and ordered severe penance.”

  “Forgive us, Father, but surely you would agree the circumstances are most unusual. We are not used to men dropping dead outside our chapels. Being but simple women, I fear the shock of this event has unsettled us, and we may have reacted in unseemly ways. Sister Anne is our sub-infirmarian and a trained apothecary, however, and I believe her guilty of nothing more than an ill-considered violation of modesty. I know the depth of her devotion to God and promise to counsel her.” Eleanor hoped that calmed the man. She most certainly did not want to reveal how often she let Sister Anne assist the crowner in matters of murder.

  His face flushing slightly, he stepped back. “In the turmoil of the moment, I did forget the reputation of your talented sub-infirmarian.”

  “I take responsibility for the failure to summon another to provide proper attendance in my absence. I was also alone here when we first discovered the body, a fault for which I shall demand a hard penance. You were both kind and wise to remind us that we must practice modesty and remember the spirit of our vows, even when we are forced to deal with worldly matters.” She bowed her head, sensing the man was backing down from further outrage.

  Eliduc cleared his throat. “Surely the corpse can be removed from these rude stares.” He gestured at the small number remaining after the choir had been ordered back to their quarters. “The man was in the service of the Lady Avelina and owned a soul that belongs to God.”

  She gestured to Crowner Ralf and said in a loud voice “Have you further need to examine the corpse here? We would take the body to the chapel.” Then she tilted her head at the priest.

  Quickly, he glanced at Sister Anne who nodded consent. “I am done for the moment,” he replied. “I do beg permission to consult later on the nature of this death. Perhaps with Brother John?” A grin teased the corner of his lips.

  Father Eliduc walked back to the Lady Avelina.

  “We must speak in private, my lady.” Ralf watched the priest and kept his voice low.

  Eleanor discreetly nodded agreement.

  “Although I understand the need to move the body, I beg that it be placed where it can be guarded.”

  “We shall provide that protection,” she murmured. “Brother Beorn will arrange to have it taken to the hospital chapel and assign responsible lay brothers to watch over it.” Then the prioress added, raising her voice so it would be overheard by anyone standing nearby, “Brother John once owned an apothecary shop in Norwich. Although Sister Anne is also a talented healer, she is a woman. We shall honor your suggestion that he examine the body later this evening when he is finished with his duties as novice master.”

  “I am grateful,” Ralf replied. “I have some other matters to attend to now…”

  A commotion at the edge of the tiny circle of onlookers interrupted further discussion.

  A woman pushed forward.

  “Lady Avelina,” Eliduc shouted, rushing to prevent her from moving closer to the corpse. “Return to your chambers, I beg of you! This is no place for you to…”

  Ignoring him, she halted at side of the body, stared down at her dead servant, and began to moan.

  Eleanor approached and laid a gentle hand on the woman’s arm. “It is truly Kenard,” she whispered. “I promise we shall find out how this happened. If there is any question of a violent death, the guilty will be brought to justice.”

  Continuing to stare at the body, Avelina nodded. When she finally wrenched her gaze away and looked at the prioress, her eyes were awash in tears, her face ashen.

  “I will ask a lay sister to take you back to your chambers.” Eleanor looked up to see that Sister Anne was already by her side. “And our sub-infirmarian will attend you as well. You must rest. She will make sure you are comfortable and have anything you need.”

  Avelina shuddered; her eyes rolled back; her knees buckled, and she slid to the ground in a faint.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “Have you seen my brother?”

  Awakening with a start, Thomas cried out, his dreams fleeing with all hope of remembrance.

  “Forgive me!” Ralf stared down at the wide-eyed hermit whom he had assumed was only lost in thought.

  “There is no reason to beg pardon, Crowner. Sinner that I am, I shut my eyes for a moment and fell asleep. I had meant to pray.” He put his arms around his knees and shook his head free of the last remnants of sleep. “If you seek Sir Fulke, he has gone back to the priory.”

  “He was with you then?”

  “Something has happened. Will you tell me the news?”

  “Lady Avelina’s servant, Kenard, was found dead outside the side chapel. Your sub-infirmarian suspects poison.”

  “And you think your brother had cause to murder.”

  Ralf squatted beside him. “I pray he has not.”

  “After you left him at the inn, Sir Fulke drank far too much and staggered to this hut, arriving not long after you yourself departed. Considering the profit from the number of pitchers he must have consumed, Signy could surely confirm his presence there.” Thomas stood and looked inside the hut. “As for Simon, he has never left here. Unlike me, he is praying.”

  Saying nothing, the crowner jerked his head in the direction of the woods.

  The monk bent to pick up the jug near the door and sniffed at the contents. “I fear the heat has turned this ale. If you are thirsty, we can go down to the stream.”

  In silence, the two friends walked down the steep path. Halfway to the pond, Ralf stopped. “I did not want Simon to hear what he should not.”

  “So I assumed,” Thomas said with a brief smile. “Ask what you will, and tell me all you can.” Leading the crowner off the path to a bit of shade, the monk eased himself into a sitting position on the ground.

  “There is little enough known so far. Prioress Eleanor agreed to let Father Eliduc see the novice choir’s presentation of the Daniel story, which she hoped might entertain the queen. Kenard was given permission by Brother John to watch it from the chapel. The servant slipped out the door toward the end of the performance and died. One of the novices found the body.”

  “Why does Sister Anne suspect poison?”

  “He carried a wineskin, which he apparently drained quickly as if attacked by great thirst. She found suspicious leaf bits in his vomit and said she would examine them more carefully. There were no outward signs of injury.” He shrugged. “Although God may have struck him down, I trust Annie’s observations.”

  Nodding, Thomas said nothing about the crowner’s failure to use the nun’s formal title. Indeed, he was always touched by Ralf’s deep affection for a woman he had known long before she had even married the man whom she later followed to Tyndal Priory.

  “Why was Fulke here?”

  The monk grinned. “You frightened him!” Then he grew more serious. “For all his faults, your brother longs to own a virtuous soul. When he pounded on the walls of my hut, I opened the door to a man so drunk he could barely stand, but I did not doubt that his supplication for wisdom was sincere.”

  “And so he kept you from your rest. I’ll make sure he never bothers you again,” Ralf growled.

  “You must never speak to him of this. Show mercy, Ralf. He is worth that.”

  The crowner’s shoulders sagged. “We have no love for each other, or little enough, and yet I neither hate him nor do I want him to be a suspect in murder.”

  “If there is any possibility that poison was slipped into Kenard’s wineskin last night or up to the time he died, your brother is innocent. You stayed with him at the inn, and surely Signy or others will confirm how long he remained there. While he was here, we talked, wept, and prayed. When Nute came with food and drink from the inn, the sheriff sent him to Prioress Eleanor, explaining h
e could not meet with her this day.”

  “When I did not see him in the church, I assumed he had suffered too much from drink,” Ralf muttered. “And you also swear that Simon was with you the entire time?”

  Thomas stiffened. “He is innocent as well.”

  “I confess I had hoped he was guilty of one or the other murder.”

  “It seems he is not.”

  “You sound confident. What have you learned?”

  Rising, Thomas stretched. His eyes were red from lack of sleep. “You and Signy succeeded in convincing Nute that I am no imp, eager to devour little boys.”

  The crowner looked puzzled over the significance of this.

  “The child approached with caution this morning, perhaps reassured by the sight of Sir Fulke. Once here, he relaxed when I did not fly at him, claws extended.” The monk grinned. “When your brother sent him to Prioress Eleanor, Nute whispered that Signy had told him he must confess something to me. I walked with him a short distance along the road.”

  Ralf struck the ground with his fist. “He has remembered something more about the murder he witnessed!”

  The monk raised an eyebrow. “You will know best if this detail is meaningful. Nute said that the man, who met with Baron Otes the night he was murdered, owned a shadow of short stature with wide shoulders. His voice was hoarse.”

  For a moment, the crowner considered this. “When I first talked to him about what he had seen, he said only that he saw two men, one fat and the other lean. The first was obviously the baron.” He frowned. “The description of the killer does not fit my brother. Although his shoulders are broad enough, he is of my height and has a voice like a rutting bull.”

  “Nor Simon either. He is thin, tall, and spoke with clarity the morning he arrived here.”

  “Father Eliduc?”

  “He is short. The descriptions of the shoulders and voice do not match. Those arms never lifted a sword, and his voice has the endurance of any man who preaches.”