“The information I have indicates otherwise,” he said. “I have questioned Astrolabe, and he admits to being with the Eonites, although he denies he is one of them. He also admits to knowing that Canon Rolland instigated the stories about him that nearly led to riot and cost me a thousand sestiers of barley. He was known to be in a position to murder the nun Cecile. He refuses to state his whereabouts last night when the canon was killed. In this situation, I feel that something more is needed besides a belief that he is not the sort of person to commit murder.”
“My lord.” John stepped forward. “My friend is being unnecessarily prudent in refusing to bring others into his trouble. I was with Astrolabe last night, as was Thomas, a clerk of the archbishop of Canterbury. He couldn’t have killed Canon Rolland.”
“Oh, John, thank you,” Catherine breathed.
Samson stared at him.
“And you are?”
“John, of Sarum in England, and lately clerk to Abbot Peter of Celle,” John said. “I’ve known Astrolabe for many years. He stayed with me last night at the residence of the archbishop of Canterbury.”
“So you never left his side all evening?” Samson asked.
“No… well, we left him at the bathhouse for a couple of hours,” John admitted. “But the people there will confirm that.”
“Actually, he mentioned the bathhouse. I’ve already had the attendants questioned,” Samson said. “It seems they left him in his tub and didn’t go back until he called for a barber much later. He could have sneaked out and returned with no one the wiser. You must admit that if one were to slit a man’s throat, a bathhouse would be the perfect place to wash away any evidence of the deed.”
“But that’s ridiculous,” John sputtered.
“Unfortunately, it isn’t,” Samson told him. “Now I presume you all understand why I asked you to help me adjudicate this matter. I propose to bring both Astrolabe and his accuser in. You may listen to both their stories. If any of you have more information, either in support or refutation, then I hope you’ll add it. I admit that if I had known the man’s parentage, I might not have had him arrested immediately. However, upon questioning him, I did not find that his answers convinced me of his innocence and I am not inclined to release him without further proof.”
“Then bring both men before us now!” Thibault ordered. “But I warn you, Samson, I’m not going back to Abbess Heloise and tell her that I left her son in chains in your prison.”
“I assure you, my lord count, that in any event he won’t be long in my prison.”
Samson nodded to the guard at the door. A moment later Astrolabe was brought in by the guards. Just behind them was a monk. Although he tried to keep his face hidden, Catherine recognized him at once.
“You were with Rolland!” She pointed accusingly at him. “I know you!”
He glared back at her. “And you’re the woman who told us you knew nothing about the heretic we were seeking. I knew you were in league with him. You consort with Jews as well. I know. Your aberrant life has been noted.
“My lords, my ladies.” Arnulf turned to the rest of the assembly. “This woman has shown herself to be a liar and a protector of heretics and infidels. Her house in Paris is infamous. Nothing she says can be trusted.”
“How dare you!” Catherine started toward him.
Countess Sybil waved her back with a warning gesture.
“Have they harmed you?” she asked Astrolabe. “Your cheek is bruised.”
He shook his head. “I tripped on the steps. I’m not accustomed to walking in chains.”
Catherine suppressed a cry. She was more angry with herself than the monk or the archbishop. She should have done something to stop this man before he could bring Astrolabe to such a state. They shouldn’t have been so afraid but gone at once to the archbishops and told them everything. Heloise had counted on her to protect her son. She had been useless.
Archbishop Samson gestured for the two men to stand in the center of the room, facing the prelates and nobles.
“This is Arnulf, a monk of Brittany,” he told them. “He has come to me with a story of heresy, deception and murder. I shall have him repeat it for all of you. Of course you, my lord archbishops, my lord count, my lady countesses, are welcome to ask anything you wish in order to get to the meat of the matter. The rest of you”—he stared pointedly at Catherine and John—“will speak only when addressed, or I will send you out. Do you understand?”
They nodded.
Arnulf began his tale. He told it well, dwelling on his certainty that Cecile had been a prisoner of the heretics, ignoring the horror she had fled at the hands of Henri of Treguier. He reminded them that Astrolabe had not denied that he had spent a winter in Eon’s camp and been captured there.
“And when he escaped from Archbishop Engebaud’s men, did he come to Tours and throw himself on the mercy of the church?” Arnulf asked. “No, he fled to Paris. And again, his first contact was not a cleric, who might have given him spiritual guidance and brought him back to the faith. No! Astrolabe, who will tell you he is a good orthodox Christian, summoned a Jew to give him aid. This I saw with my own eyes!”
“He said someone was following us,” Astrolabe muttered. “I should have listened.”
“There!” Arnulf said triumphantly. “He condemns himself! And then where did you go? To the bishop of Paris? Of course not. Instead you sought refuge with a merchant, a foreigner known to be friendly with any number of undesirables. And when they should have turned him over at once, he convinced them instead to smuggle him out of Paris, to Champagne and the protection of his doting mother. Do you deny this?”
He rounded on Astrolabe.
“No, but—” Astrolabe began.
Arnulf cut him off.
“Exactly,” he said. “Are these the actions of an innocent man? Whatever his family, whomever his friends, I tell you Astrolabe of Le Pallet is a heretic and a murderer who must not be allowed to remain free.”
Catherine waited for an angry outburst from Countess Sybil or Count Thibault. Instead, there was silence. Arnulf wiped his face with a cloth and gave a satisfied smile.
“Very serious accusations,” Count Thibault said at last.
“B—” Catherine opened her mouth. Margaret kicked her before she could get a sound out.
“What can you say in your own defense?” he asked Astrolabe.
Astrolabe spread his manacled hands in uncertainty.
“I cannot deny the facts, only the interpretation Brother Arnulf has put on them,” he said. “I have killed no one. I am a good Christian, as much as I am able. My behavior may have seemed cowardly. I suppose it was,” he sighed. “I couldn’t let Cecile’s death be ignored, but I wanted to protect my mother from just the shame that has come upon me here. She has had enough grief in her life.”
“Brought it on herself,” someone muttered. Catherine thought it might have been Hugh of Rouen.
Astrolabe’s strong chin lifted. “I am proud of both my parents,” he said, “and only wish I were a more worthy reflection of their learning.”
“Yes, of course,” Samson waved that off.
Samson faced the others. “You see my dilemma,” he said. “He has declared his innocence and yet not provided me with proof of it or with an alternate suspect.”
Catherine could bear it no longer.
“Please, my lord,” she said. “I will swear on the bones of Saint Remigius, on the Holy Cross itself, that Astrolabe is innocent.”
“As will I,” John said.
“Me, too,” Margaret added, with a nervous glance at Count Thibault.
Samson glared at them. “I will excuse your outburst this once. Your offer of compurgation is noted. However, I believe we all would prefer to have the truth rather than simply the belief of his friends. Count Thibault, what do you say?”
“I believe Astrolabe’s story implicitly,” the count stated. “Brother Arnulf may have acted in good faith, but his conclusions must be in
correct.”
However, there was an edge of doubt in his voice. Catherine gripped Margaret’s hand in fear.
Archbishop Engebaud stood to address them. “I don’t want to believe that this man, of good birth and education, could be led into heresy and violence. But I agree that we have not been given an alternative to his guilt. If the deaths of this woman and the canon are connected, who else would have had a reason to kill them both? Who else was even present in both places?”
Catherine bit her lip. This was what she should have discovered.
“I agree,” Archbishop Hugh said. “I was in Brittany only a year ago, and I’m acutely aware of how heresy and violence have been allowed to flourish, even among the nobility. His family connections do not guarantee that this man is innocent.”
“Then you’ll support my plea for the excommunication of Olivier of Dol?” Engebaud asked eagerly. “It is his fault that these heresies have spread so far.”
“Yes,” Hugh answered. “It’s clear that he has not been a good shepherd and should be deposed if he will not submit.”
“Thank you!” Engebaud said. He seemed to have forgotten the matter at hand in his joy at acquiring an ally.
Sybil brought him back to the present.
“I have taken Astrolabe into my household and under my protection,” she said. “Since we are not agreed on his guilt, I insist that he be released to me. I, for one, would like to see more proof on both sides.”
“You’ll guarantee that he won’t flee?” Samson asked.
“The woman murdered was the sister of my ward,” Sybil said. “I promised their father I would watch over them. Finding the one who killed Cecile is of the utmost importance to me. I don’t believe it is Astrolabe. Therefore, I shall make my pledge for his compliance in your final decision. If he absconds, I will make restitution from my own purse.”
“Oh, my lady!” Astrolabe said.
“Are we agreed?” Samson asked the others.
They all nodded.
“This must be resolved soon,” Samson continued. “I have far too many obligations to allow this to take up much more of my time. I shall give Brother Arnulf and Astrolabe until Saturday morning to collect more substantial proof. Then, after consulting with the rest of you, I will decide the truth as best I can. Remove his chains.”
Arnulf strangled a protest. Regaining his poise, he bowed to all and left.
Astrolabe was taken away to have the shackles struck off. Catherine hoped they would be gentle about it.
The archbishop thanked his guests for coming and offered them more wine and some sugared almonds. The dish was pointedly not passed to Catherine’s corner.
“Didn’t I tell you it would be all right?” she said to Margaret, when they were back down in the street.
“Are you sure?” Margaret answered. “It didn’t sound settled to me. I thought my grandfather would say the charges were nonsense and tell everyone to go home.”
Catherine had actually been hoping much the same.
“I suppose he couldn’t,” she said. “He can’t appear to be inequitable before the other lords and the archbishops.”
“That wouldn’t have bothered me,” Margaret said firmly.
Compline was long past and the street was deserted. Outside the gate they saw one forlorn soldier keeping watch. As they came out, he ran toward them.
“Godfrey!” Catherine said. “We have another chance. They’re letting him go, for now.”
“For now?”
“We have more time, at least, to find the real murderer,” she said. “That’s something.”
A moment later John came out. Astrolabe was with him.
“Are you all right?” Margaret asked him. “Oh, dear, that was a stupid question, wasn’t it? I can see you aren’t.”
Astrolabe gave her a smile and a hug.
“I can tell you, I’m much better than I was a few moments ago,” he said. “Chains!” He shuddered.
“Many noblemen, kings, even apostles have been unjustly fettered,” Catherine told him. “We even have a feast for Saint Peter in chains, right?”
Astrolabe looked at her a moment and then burst out laughing. The sound echoed down the dark street. He laughed so hard that he couldn’t catch his breath, and John had to pound his back.
“Hysterical,” he told the others. “After a day like this, I don’t blame him.”
“No,” Astrolabe was still chuckling. “It was just so idiotic, the image of me as Saint Peter. Catherine, do you see the whole world as an analogy?”
“I was only trying…” Catherine began.
“Never mind,” Astrolabe said. “I understand. Thank you. Thank you all for offering to stand for me. I don’t think I had truly understood how damaging the facts were. If you hadn’t been there, I might have been convicted tonight.”
“Instead, you’ll have to endure my snoring again,” John said.
“That would be music,” Astrolabe said. “But I can’t take your hospitality. Countess Sybil spoke to me before she left. I’m to stay in the guardhouse by the convent. I believe this time I’m the one to be guarded. She’s pledged me to appear in two days. She can’t take the chance that I’ll run off.”
“Ah, then I’D have to listen to you snore,” Godfrey said happily. “Have you ever thought about the noise a nose like yours can make?”
They all started at the sound of a shutter being thrown open.
“You down there!” a man shouted. “Take it somewhere else! I’m trying to sleep!”
“A good idea,” John whispered. “I’ll be at the convent at first light tomorrow. I know we can solve this. I wouldn’t be surprised if that Arnulf wasn’t the one who killed Rolland. He’s the sort who would plan how to cover up a crime before he committed it.”
“If only we could find a motive,” Catherine sighed. “I’d cheerfully see him taken to the gallows. Or sent on a long and dangerous pilgrimage,” she added hastily.
They set off for Saint-Pierre, parting from John at the corner.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Godfrey asked him. “There’s no one out at this hour but cutthroats and drunks.”
“I’ll run,” John said. “I’ve had years of practice racing the cutpurses home from the tavern. Don’t worry. It’s not far.”
By the time they got back to the convent all was dark except for one small oil lamp left to guide their way up the stairs. Godfrey and Astrolabe saw the women past the guard at the gate before going to sleep with the other guards.
“I’m so weary I don’t think I can even get my shoes off,” Catherine moaned as they went up the stairs.
“I’ll help you,” Margaret said. “I hope Annora is still up. Then we won’t be the only ones disturbing everyone.”
“Goodness, I had forgotten all about her.” Catherine stopped at the middle step to rest. “She was so quiet during the questioning. I hope the evening didn’t upset her too much.”
When they entered the room, the light showed all the other women asleep in their beds. Margaret shone it into the corner where their bed was to see if Annora was awake.
Once again, Annora’s place was empty.
“We assumed she was with you,” one of the women told Catherine the next morning.
“She probably stayed in the countess’s room,” another yawned, “rather than disturb the rest of us.”
Catherine let the rebuke pass. Where had Annora gone? The first thing that occurred to her was that the woman had a lover. But it didn’t seem like Annora to do something that would certainly infuriate Countess Sybil. So far, none of the women had reported her absence, but if this went on, Catherine was inclined to tell the countess herself.
In the meantime, she had to face another day.
“Only four days past the equinox.” Catherine tried to make her tired body stand. “I feel like it’s a midsummer dawn. I’m sure I just went to sleep.”
“Perhaps you should stay in today.” Margaret’s face was creased with worry.<
br />
“With all we have to do?” Catherine said. “Nonsense! I’m fine. I was just grumbling.”
“What do we have to do?” Margaret asked.
“Find Annora, first.” Catherine sat on the edge of the bed and let Margaret help with her hose and shoes. “Then I want to find out as much as we can about this Canon Rolland.”
“The man who was murdered?” one of the women asked.
Catherine cursed herself for speaking thoughtlessly. “I was just curious about how it happened,” she said. “They say he was found in the toll booth by the river. What would he have been doing there?”
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