Justice for the Damned mm-4

by Priscilla Royal

  "You should expect it," Eleanor replied truthfully, yet she was unsettled by his mocking tone.

  "Thus all sweet courting must end. Although I am loath to do so, I have no choice but to make one final trip to Gascony, and so I go to Mistress Jhone to insist that the marriage be arranged before I leave."

  "You know that any woman may refuse a marriage…"

  "Alys might have that legal right, but surely she understands both the profit in our union and her moral obligation. The marriage was her dead father's wish. It is her mother's. It is mine. How can she refuse?"

  Eleanor nodded with barely concealed reluctance.

  "Once Alys and I are vowed to each other, I can take this last journey without fear that the mother will weaken and let the girl marry Master Bernard." Herbert folded his hands. "The boy is only interested in the wool business and would cast the widow from their hearth as soon as he had the daughter. I would not be so cruel."

  Why fear that Mistress Jhone would suddenly change, a woman who had shown no bending at all in this matter heretofore? Eleanor frowned, yet she could not quarrel with the vintner's fears regarding Alys and Bernard. Their meetings might seem too brief to the pair, but the prioress knew how quickly lust flamed and how little time it took to find a mutual quenching. "When do you leave?"

  "Within the next few days." He gestured with frustration. "You see why I need an immediate answer. My courting skills are indeed rough, but I like Alys. She may be young, but she is not a child and has a quick wit. She is like a bright fire, and I am a cold man without a wife. My heart finds warmth in her light spirit. In time, we could surely learn to love each other. He fell silent.

  "I will pray for good fortune in this matter," Eleanor said, carefully choosing her words. The vintner might have won her compassion with these latest arguments, and she feared that Bernard had an interest in stolen manuscripts, but her woman's heart still sided with the younger couple.

  Ignoring any ambivalence in Eleanor's fair wishes, the merchant smiled as if God Himself had approved his venture. He quickly asked a blessing, then hurried off to the woolmonger's family.

  Eleanor longed to follow but knew she had no cause to interfere.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  "Had this manuscript been stored properly, Brother Baeda would still be alive!" Brother Jerome might be an elderly man, but his opinions were as firm as his wiry body.

  "What mean you?" Thomas asked, peering down at the item in question, now resting securely inside the priory book chest.

  "This holy Psalter was handled without due reverence, and God does not forgive those who treat the work of devout monks, created with pious sweat, in such a casual manner." Jerome slammed the wooden lid shut.

  Several silverfish skittered out from under one metal-encased corner and disappeared into a crack in the floor.

  "Indeed, Brother, indeed." Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Considering the fate of Jerome's depiction of Eve with Eden's snake, he suspected the monk's present outburst had more to do with the deeds of unruly young novices than any failure committed by the murdered librarian. "Yet I am at a loss to understand why a ghost would choose to visit it."

  Brother Jerome opened his gap-toothed mouth, looked puzzled, and shut it.

  "You were about to say…?"

  Jerome blinked rapidly. "I was? Aye, I was!" He struck his chest. "My spirit trembles at the thought, but I believe that Satan was at work here. Brother Baeda was an honorable man, and I shall pray for his early release to Heaven, but I fear he suffered from the sin of pride just before his death."

  "Ah, pride!" Thomas nodded grave agreement. "Tell me the tale, for we learn most about the Devil's subtleties from the failings of honest men."

  Jerome exhaled through his mouth with virtuous disgust.

  Thomas was reminded of a horse.

  "The Psalter is a most prized possession. When I saw the tear, I told Brother Baeda that I could mend it. My talents in manuscript work may be modest, but they are a God-inspired skill." He bent his head with due humility. "Nonetheless, Prioress Ida decided that no one here was worthy of touching it. Our dear brother informed me that some monk with special expertise had been summoned. Until this expert came, the Psalter should have been stored safely away. I think any reasonable man would agree?" He sniffed.

  Thomas inclined his head with the anticipated concurrence.

  "Bound as I am to obey, I did not argue with our leader's decision, but I was struck with wonder at the careless manner in which the manuscript was treated. Brother Baeda was so willing to show it to anyone at all-even that young rogue Sayer-and thus I saw how Satan had filled our brother's heart with pride. Of all the monks in the priory, he had been found worthy enough to care for the Psalter, and he wanted all to see the treasure he was given to protect."

  "I concur. When I asked to see it, he let me view any page I wished."

  Brother Jerome turned red, a color that gave bright contrast to the sparse white bristle on his cheeks. "I have no quarrel with a noble and godly interest such as yours. Sayer, on the other hand, is of base birth and the son of a thief. Our librarian should not have allowed a man like that to sully the holy work with his profane gaze."

  "Of course."

  "Besides being proud, Brother Baeda was too tolerant of young men's sinful ways and often turned a blind eye on their wicked follies. In the afternoon, before the sad evening of his death, he told me that Sayer had come to talk with him yet again about the Psalter." The monk pursed his lips with disgust. "How he could have ignored that youth's wickedness is beyond my comprehension."

  "Did Brother Baeda say why Wulfstan's son was so interested in the holy work?"

  Jerome winced as if he had just bitten into a bitter fruit. "I am sure Sayer gave him some plausible reason. Our dear brother did not tell me what it was, but I made sure he knew of my disapproval."

  "And so you believe the ghost came that night for good purpose?"

  "There could only be one reason: to bring the message of God's displeasure."

  "A phantom you believe might be…?"

  "Queen Elfrida, without a doubt." Jerome's eyes glazed with recollection. "The spirit was tall. A noble lady would be of greater height than one of lower birth." He nodded thoughtfully. "I was confused when she struck me down with unwomanly force, but a soul released from Purgatory would be possessed of far greater strength than any mortal."

  "Edifying visions are so rare in these wicked times, and you have surely been granted one. Please tell me more."

  "The queen's ghost had much reason to be here. Her sins were so heinous, and despite the wealth she gave at our founding, we had grown lax in our prayers for her soul. Prioress Ida punished the monks who…" He swallowed, unwilling to even name the sin, then continued. "Perhaps that problem was solved, but the queen still had cause for outrage when Brother Baeda gave more attention to young men on their way to Hell than he did to the proper care of her priory's most sacred work."

  "Did the spirit tell you this?"

  "She had no need for speech. By her presence at the library door, she made her message clear, as she did by our brother's death." His expression grew sad. "I grieve that she found it necessary to kill him so cruelly, but might he not have died from the shock of seeing her unearthly face?"

  "Mayhap."

  "I pray hourly for his soul."

  Thomas nodded respectfully. "As a consequence, you have kept the Psalter away from impious eyes. For that zeal, both the ghost and God must praise you."

  Jerome slammed his hand on the flat lid of the chest, drew in his ill-defined chin, and straightened his narrow shoulders. "When Sayer came to me, asking to see the Psalter, I vigorously refused, telling him that his filthy hands would never again soil the illuminations on that precious work!"

  "And I am sure you showed him the strength of that chest, lest he try to open it when you were away at prayer."

  "He was most curious about that, Brother, so I made sure he got a close look at the
metal corners and heavy wood." Jerome shook the key that hung from his waist. "He also knows that I keep this with me at all times."

  Thomas raced from the library, his heart pounding with fear. Brother Jerome might be the next to die if this mystery was not quickly resolved.

  Was Sayer both murderer and thief? Although Thomas' heart shouted that the roofer was incapable of such brutality, his monk's mind argued with equal force that Satan was blinding him to the truth. Hadn't he just seen a man, struck by Sayer in a fight at the inn? Was that not proof enough of the roofer's violence?

  "Prioress Eleanor will see everything with the light Satan has chased from my soul," Thomas whispered as he sped through the priory. Indeed she must.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Silence fell while the servant laid refreshments on a table.

  Sister Anne followed the woman from the chambers, paused to make sure no one was outside the door, then shut it. "Our brother is right when he says we must delay no longer," she said.

  "Sayer's unusual interest in the Psalter suggests he may be the thief," Eleanor said, turning to Thomas.

  "I agree, yet…" Thomas looked away. "… yet Wulfstan's son may be innocent or only a pawn in this game, my lady. Are you sure no one from the priory could be involved?"

  "It would be difficult for a monk to sell a Psalter, Brother."

  Thomas folded his arms. "For cert, but that also applies to Sayer. Where could a mere roofer sell such a manuscript? Someone else must be involved, making Sayer's crime a limited one. He might be acting on behalf of a monk, stealing the Psalter which he would then deliver to a man outside the priory who could sell it. If he did this while all monks were at prayer, no accusing finger could be pointed at any monastic. He may be little more than a courier."

  Eleanor nodded for him to continue.

  "He may even be innocent. When I first met the man, he showed no distress that this priory's monks had ceased to visit the inn, although he was willing enough to offer a complete stranger, me, a way to break my vows." The monk swallowed audibly. "If Sayer had some way to sell the Psalter, or else knew someone who could do so, he might have arranged with some monk to deliver the manuscript to him at the inn long before now."

  "I understand your argument," Anne said, "but he has not given you a good reason for his current and most unusual interest in this sacred work. Reverence does not appear to be one of his virtues. We must conclude he has another purpose."

  "I agree that there is no explanation for his questions about the storage of the work." Thomas took a deep breath. "On the other hand, he is only in the priory during the day. How could he steal the Psalter then? It would have to be done at night. Only a monk would know the habits of the religious best and when it would be safe to remove the work from the library without the chance of witnesses."

  "We cannot dismiss the wandering phantom that has been seen both inside and without the priory walls," Eleanor said. "The library is on the monks' side. If the ghost was created to keep formerly lusty monks quivering fearfully in their chaste beds, someone could climb the wall at night and steal the manuscript without fear of detection. Although this could have been a monk, I suspect the spirit has a more secular form. Based on Brother Jerome's statement, all religious were at prayers when Brother Baeda faced his killer. Therefore, no monk is guilty of this deed, an act that must have occurred during one attempt to steal the Psalter." Her expression was grim. "These two murders continue to trouble me. Brother Baedas death might be easily explained, but I fail to comprehend why Wulfstan should have died. I asked myself if he was involved because he repaired that wall and may have left the toeholds. Nonetheless, all have claimed he was a man who honored the law for so very many years." She stopped. "I need your thoughts, Brother."

  "I cannot cast light on your questions, my lady, yet I see no fault with your conclusions," Thomas replied, his tone hesitant.

  Eleanor put her hands together and studied the monk over the tips of her fingers. "Although I believe our roofer is the thief, your argument that someone else has to be involved is well-considered." She frowned. "Tell me, Brother, do you think Sayer capable of murder?"

  Thomas gazed at the ground. "He fought with his father before Wulfstan died and even threatened to kill him. Although I cannot discover the reason for the argument, we know that father and son have worked outside the law, both the king's and God's, for personal gain. The father may have reformed, but the son has not, if his attempt to draw me into sin is any indication. If a man commits one crime, may he not be suspect for another?" His voice faded on those last words.

  Eleanor grew thoughtful as she mulled over her monk's question. "If you mean the corruption of weak-fleshed monks, I agree that was a wicked deed." She knew the reason for the quarrel but would not speak of it. Cold reason might dismiss Drifa's easy forgiveness and her own aunt's fond tolerance of the man, but her mind could not reject one doubt about the accusation of sodomy: Wulfstan might have been mistaken in what he saw. There was no corroborating evidence. She closed her eyes and said, "Man may sin, yet not be guilty of all evil. Nor is he beyond redemption in God's eyes." At least she had faith in that, no matter how confused she was about the rest of this matter.

  "And repent he may have done. As you yourself have said, only one religious has visited the inn of late, and that man is you," Anne added.

  "Despite your last words, Brother, I have also heard you express doubt about the roofer's guilt. Do you believe Sayer is innocent in the murder of his father and Brother Baeda?"

  "He has charmed me, my lady." Thomas' voice broke, his words stumbling out of his mouth as if he hated to say them. "Perhaps Satan has blinded me to his evil, but I do not think he killed his father. I heard love in his voice when he spoke of Wulfstan. Nor can I imagine that Sayer murdered Brother Baeda. The method of killing was a ruthless act, and I have not seen such cruelty in the roofer. Nonetheless, I cannot overlook his unusual interest in the manuscript." Thomas exhaled, the sound akin to a sob. "Nor can I deny that Satan might not have given him a pleasing countenance to hide a dark soul."

  Eleanor said nothing for a very long time.

  Sister Anne looked from one to the other, then rose and poured a mazer of wine for her prioress and the monk. "If Sayer is working on behalf of someone else, might that person be involved in the murders instead?"

  Eleanor nodded in agreement. "Someone who has access to buyers of precious manuscripts, and someone who sells at some distance."

  "And that might be who?" Anne asked.

  "Merchants travel," Thomas said, looking hopeful.

  "Bernard the glover needs money to win the hand of his beloved Alys." Eleanor put her mazer down without tasting the wine. "He himself creates most artful designs and might well know others who appreciate beautiful things. Among such men there may be those who, if their own eyes covet it, choose to ignore that a work was intended to please God. I also saw him walking by the river with another of like enough age who might have been Sayer. Were they plotting?" She looked upward in silence for a moment. "Yet Satan may have blinded me as well, Brother. I cannot believe the glover is a murderer, and my woman's frail heart hopes that he and Alys can wed. I see no great evil in him."

  "On the night I went to the inn, I saw Sayer and the glover in close conversation. When I learned that Master Bernard wanted to marry the woolmonger's daughter, I thought that such speech with a cousin would not be unusual and did not consider any other meaning. Yet I, too, doubt…" Thomas suddenly brightened. "What about Master Herbert?"

  "Ah, our vintner! You have little liking for the man, do you?"

  "I do not trust him, my lady," the monk replied with open disdain.

  Eleanor grew pensive, sipped at her wine, and then smiled. "His dress and manner suggest wealth, but his first wife endured a long illness. If he could not travel to his vineyards because of her ill health, or the cost of her sickness was high, I wonder if his income suffered as a consequence. He is very eager, despite his protestati
ons, to take on a woolmonger's business."

  Thomas nodded, both surprise and pleasure obvious in his expression.

  "I have not met the man," Anne said, "but I must also ask if he is so eager for wealth that he longs only for a new source of it."

  "And I should ask if it is logical that a man steal a manuscript from this priory but remain here and sell wool." From the way Thomas clenched his fists, this statement took some effort for him to make.

  "Are there any others in the village who might be allied to Sayer in this matter?" Anne asked.

  "I do not believe the innkeeper cares to sell anything but ale and whores," Thomas said. "According to the glover, there are still robbers who lurk near that strange pile of pagan stones, but they do not trouble the merchants of Amesbury and thus must be local men. If they do not torment the village, why would they steal the priory's Psalter?"

  "Is the thief a man from somewhere else?" Anne continued.

  "According to the glover, no strangers have shown any interest in the Psalter," Thomas replied.

  "Then he is either lying or the thief is a local man. We have solved nothing here," Anne sighed.

  "We have not, nor do we have time for further debate or questions. Brother Jerome is in danger." Eleanor's eyes turned dark with anger. "Now is the time to weave a web like a skillful spider and trap whatever flies we may." She turned to Thomas. "I have a plot in mind, Brother, but it would require that you return to the inn."

  "The trap, my lady. How do you propose to set it?"

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The crow from the nest near the library soared into the sky when Thomas left the priory. Had he not been told that birds had no souls, he might have concluded that hers felt an especial delight over her young. With the world rejoicing in the renewal of life, he grumbled to himself, why must he deal with death?