“It promises to be a long night,” he replied and forced a smile to hide his unease about this meeting.
“You have my permission to drink as you must, Brother. I trust you to remain alert,” Eleanor said. “We must all confess our failures to observe the Offices as we ought as well as our engagement with worldly things that goes against the normal rules of our vocation. In fact, I believe God both understands and shall forgive. Why else would He continue to send crimes our way to solve?”
“And what more can I do?” Anne asked. “I believe your sister-in-law could do without me for a few hours.”
“Then accompany me,” the prioress said. “I think we should visit the sheriff, Sir William. He arrested Hywel and sent him to trial. There may be something in those events that points to a solution to this odd problem.” She smiled at her two monastics. “But now we should all rest, including you, Brother Thomas, until you meet the merchant. If this investigation grows any more complicated, we will need the sum of all our God-given wits.”
Chapter Thirteen
The sheriff’s house was easy to find. It was one of the few with two levels and the only one where armed men hovered like a cloud of flies. A few sat on the ground and shouted wagers as they tossed uneven brown dice in the dirt.
When one of the gamblers saw the two women in religious dress approach, he nudged his fellows. They jumped to their feet in respect.
One man carefully placed his boot over the abandoned dice.
“We seek an audience with Sir William,” Eleanor said, carefully ignoring the sinful lumps of bone peeking out from under the man’s foot. “Abbot Gerald has already sent word to vouch for the importance of our request.”
It took only a few minutes for the man to return and escort Prioress Eleanor and Sister Anne into the sheriff’s presence.
Sir William bowed to honor the vocation of the two women and the rank of the prioress.
Standing just behind him, with her head bowed, was a woman Eleanor guessed was his wife.
While the knight introduced the Lady Mary, and they all exchanged common courtesies, refreshments were offered but refused.
The prioress scrutinized the couple before her.
Sir William was no longer young but had not quite slipped into that age when other men had little cause to be wary of his strength. His rounded belly and reddish complexion suggested a fondness for meat and wine. Noting the man’s swollen fingers and how he winced when he stepped on one foot, the prioress wondered if he had some pertinent health issues but knew Sister Anne would tell her later.
However, it was Lady Mary who especially caught Eleanor’s interest. The woman was many years younger than her husband and carefully groomed in the fashion of the day. Her head covering was a spotless and fine white linen. Her robe, dyed a striking deep fern green, was made of soft wool. Those two items alone, the prioress thought, cost more than a simple knight could usually afford.
Although the wife’s eyes were modestly lowered, and the lady remained dutifully silent, she had picked up a wiggling black-spotted white lapdog of indeterminate breed and held it in her arms.
Eleanor took an uncharitable dislike to the wife and quickly turned her attention back to the husband.
“Forgive me for saying so,” Sir William was saying, “but Abbot Gerald spends too much time on his knees alone in dark chapels. Do not misunderstand me! Prayer is most efficacious, but surely even that can be dangerous when practiced to excess by one whose race is inclined to preternatural imaginings.” He fell silent as if waiting for what her response might be.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow.
“He’s half-Welsh, you know. They live like beasts in the woods and worship devilish spirits that hide in trees.”
Eleanor was beginning to regret she had refused a cup of wine. “You say that the abbot is well-known for seeing ghosts and other things that no one else does?”
The sheriff pursed his thin lips. “I am an honest man, my lady, and therefore confess I have not heard that he has been so inclined. Yet I cannot set aside the influence of half his ancestry, even if it was on his mother’s side and thus a weaker influence than his father’s. At least she was Christian, and her family had wit enough to recognize the superiority of English laws and practices. Amongst the benighted, there are sometimes flickers of light.” He straightened his back and looked very pleased with the excellence of that observation.
If she wished to achieve her purpose here, Eleanor knew she would be wiser to stay silent about her time spent in Wynethorpe Marcher lands and her familiarity with the native people. The rebellion against King Edward was a political issue, and she stood firmly with the English king, but otherwise she had always been rather fond of the Welsh.
“You do not believe the tales that the ghost of the hanged brigand, Hywel, is haunting the village?”
He snorted. “Seen after the sun has long set and, I would point out, when men are coming back after a night of drinking? As for the death of Father Payn, I blame his unchaste life. That was more likely to have killed him than some errant spirit.” He studied his fingers for a moment. “Abbot Gerald is fond of repeating the wisdom of St. Paul about the wages of sin being death. Perhaps our abbot would be wiser to conclude that sin was the cause of his priest’s death and forget about some hell-spawned phantom.”
The Lady Mary began to pet her dog which yapped with pleasure.
“Why do you think Bardolph swears he saw the spirit bending over the priest’s body?”
Sir William shrugged. “I cannot say, having had little direct contact with him other than to order executions performed. Nor can I suggest anyone else who might know him better. He is not well-loved in the village. What hangman is? Even I, a man used to bloody battles, would hesitate to raise a cup of wine with him.” He straightened his back and raised his chin to suggest a martial stance.
Eleanor thought she saw a fleeting smile on his wife’s lips.
“Were I to guess why he might have claimed such a thing, I would say that he told the story to get attention and enjoy the rarity of people talking to him.”
Realizing he had nothing more to say on that subject, Eleanor switched to another. “I have heard that this Hywel lived here for some time. What was he like?” Glancing at the Lady Mary, she noticed that her pale skin had turned quite pink.
Sir William shrugged. “If you had asked me that several weeks ago, I would have said he was a decent enough fellow and a competent stonemason who did work for the abbey as well as for me. If you need more detail about his work, perhaps Abbot Gerald can answer your questions, or even my brother who oversaw the man’s labors on my land. I am too busy to be both steward and sheriff. But Hywel generally did have the reputation as a quiet man, one who honored the king’s law, and he was married to an Englishwoman.” He turned to his wife with a frown. “Your maid, Eluned. Didn’t she know her?”
“Indeed, my lord,” the woman murmured. Her lapdog, objecting to his mistress’ change of attention to something besides him, vigorously squirmed.
“It was his two brothers I never liked or trusted,” Sir William continued. “When our soldiers were butchered in that raid, I had them arrested. They had never hidden their traitorous sympathy for the Welsh rebels, nor did they have any witnesses besides each other to where they were that night. If they weren’t the leaders in that barbaric slaughter, I believed that they most certainly were in the forefront of it.”
“All of Hywel’s family lived in this village?” Eleanor observed that the man’s face was turning an interesting shade of vermillion.
“I cannot be expected to know his entire history. As sheriff, I maintain a residence here, but it is not my land. As for the parents, you must seek that information elsewhere if you think it pertinent,” the sheriff snapped. “The brothers came to my attention because they got into fights with other men in the village after too much drink.
The reason was usually how badly our king treated the Welsh. But Hywel was never a trouble until…well, it’s often the quiet ones, isn’t it?”
The prioress politely nodded.
“After I threw them into a cell, Hywel came to me and said they were innocent, and that I ought, perhaps, to arrest him instead. I was shocked, but what could I do? I sent word to release them and then jailed Hywel.”
Eleanor frowned. “He confessed to the crime?” There was something about the phrasing of that story which concerned her. Hywel must have been more precise about the details of his actual guilt than what the sheriff had said.
“How could anyone not understand that as a confession? ‘Arrest me instead’? No man would say that if he weren’t guilty.”
She bit her tongue from saying that she would have probed a great deal more.
“But I am a fair man, my lady, and would never send a man to the gallows without seeking confirmation.”
She nodded but knew mortals well enough to conclude that any man who announces his virtues so loudly and often may well be lacking the ones he claims.
“And I found one of impeccable character.”
Eleanor smiled with encouragement.
“My younger brother, Rainold, who had been one of the few to escape the slaughter. He told me that he had seen Hywel there, bloody sword in hand, but had not seen the two brothers. That doesn’t mean they weren’t there, but there were no other witnesses to their presence, the brothers denied guilt, and Hywel had, after all, confessed.” He shrugged.
“Your brother had said nothing about the brothers’ innocence until Hywel confessed?” Eleanor realized she should have phrased that more diplomatically and not so blatantly exposed her reservations.
“He was still recovering from his wounds,” the knight replied with no indication that he had taken offense.
“Of course,” Eleanor said, making sure sympathy was evident in her tone. “You said your brother was one of the few who escaped?”
“One died of his wounds before he could give evidence. The other said he saw nothing, although he knew the raiders were shouting in Welsh, and he fled to save his life. My brother remained long enough to kill one of the raiders, was wounded, realized he could accomplish nothing by dying, and also retreated. I found him in his bed the next morning with a bloody bandage on his head.”
The prioress thought for a moment. “When Hywel had his trial, did anyone speak up in his defense?”
By this time, the sheriff’s face was a regal purple, and he seemed reluctant to reply.
Realizing he would not tell her unless she insisted, Eleanor said, “If there was someone, who was it, and what was claimed?”
“I am an honest man, my lady, and I will let anyone speak if it is fairly done.” He turned to the Lady Mary.
He is actually grinding his teeth, Eleanor thought.
“Ask my wife,” he snarled, barely opening his mouth.
Lady Mary did not react and continued to stroke her dog.
Sir William abruptly bowed to the two religious. “I must beg your pardon, but I have duties that demand my immediate attention and may be delayed no longer over this matter of imagined malign spirits. I have real and dangerous mortals to capture, men who are traitors to our king, as well as others who destroy the peace of decent men.”
With grace, the Prioress of Tyndal thanked him for his help and patience.
With a more respectful bow, he muttered promises of future cooperation and stomped out of the room.
The Lady Mary remained, and then kissed her pet.
The lapdog began to whine.
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Mary put the dog down and called for her maid.
Eleanor and Anne watched the dog rush to a wall, lift his leg, and let loose a pulsing yellow stream of warm urine.
Lady Mary giggled as she pointed at the growing puddle. “Clean it up, Eluned,” she ordered when the maid walked in. “My lord husband will be ever so angry if he steps in dog piss.” She turned to the two monastics. “He wants his floors dry,” she giggled, “just like he keeps his sword clean.” The lady widened her eyes, pressed her fingers to her lips like a child caught saying something bad, and simpered, “Was that naughty of me to say?”
Eleanor glanced at her sub-infirmarian and wondered if Sister Anne was finding this woman as easy to dislike as she was.
Eluned had knelt and was wiping up the mess.
“Wash the rag out right away. We mustn’t waste cloth.” The mistress of the house bent down, and the small dog raced back into her arms.
At least she seems to love something besides herself, the prioress concluded and chose not to ponder whether she was being too judgmental.
The maid left the room with her hand under the dripping rag.
“You had some questions for me?” Lady Mary blinked with excessive innocence.
The woman’s long black eyelashes were pleasingly curled, the prioress noted, and her hazel eyes had a gold tint. A hue that honors her fondness for rich attire, Eleanor thought, and then asked, “You were the one to speak in the brigand’s defense?”
“Speak in his defense?” The lady looked confused. “Do you mean the deposition I sent with my husband’s younger brother to the trial?”
“Most certainly that. If you spoke on his behalf, I…”
“I dictated a few comments. There was no reason for me to do more. But begging for at least some mercy is expected of a woman, and I am the sheriff’s wife.” Her tone was as uninformative as her expression.
Eluned slipped back into the room, softly shut the door behind her, and stood in silence with her back to the wall.
“Do you remember what you said in that affidavit?” Eleanor had not forgotten Sir William’s reaction when she asked if someone had spoken in defense of Hywel at the trial. If the Lady Mary had only performed the perfunctory duty of asking mercy because she was the sheriff’s wife, he would not have stormed out in a rage, a response that suggested more than a hint of jealousy.
“I said nothing that would help you in this strange matter of ghosts. Indeed, I had had no contact with the man myself.” She gestured at Eluned. “You were the one who knew him,” she said to her maid. “I begged for compassion on the man’s behalf as a favor to you.”
The prioress decided that mistress and maid were well-matched. Neither showed any hint of authentic emotion or opinion. If Eluned was angry, embarrassed, or otherwise upset, there was no traitorous color that washed over her cheeks to betray her. The Lady Mary resembled an overindulged child dressed up in adult robes.
“You were gracious as you always are, my lady,” the maid said after a brief hesitation, then turned to the prioress with a steady gaze.
Eleanor liked that directness and was relieved that the maid was not another simpering fool. “What did you know of Hywel?”
“Hywel was the widower of a woman in the village with whom I had long been friends. She and I were like sisters. I had always thought well of the man for the loving kindness he bore her and the care he gave after she fell ill and until her death.”
“He was Welsh and she English?”
“Yet her family offered no true objection to the marriage, although they might have preferred a different match. He was a talented stonemason with much work at the abbey and other places nearby…”
“Including for my husband,” Lady Mary interjected.
Eluned bowed her head as if especially grateful for that favor. “He was never one to tarry at the inn or seek the company of men who were better known for their sins than their craft.”
Putting the maid’s accent together with her name, Eleanor smiled. “You are Welsh?”
A wary look flashed in Eluned’s eyes, but she quickly countered it with a gaze of appropriate humility. “There are a very few of us here, my lady. We came with our Engli
sh masters from Marcher lands. My family continued in service to our English lords. Hywel’s kin was freed to practice the stonemason craft for all who needed it. This is a small village, and no one else nearby could offer the skills he and his dead father had.” She shrugged. “We have always lived together in peace, but this last rebellion has caused a rift of suspicion. Nonetheless, Hywel’s skills were still in demand.”
“And my husband has kept you on in his service.” The Lady Mary pursed her lips, not in contempt but more like a child who was prone to sulking even when there was nothing about which to pout.
“As a great kindness,” Eluned replied with a look of gratitude at her mistress, and then she turned back to the two religious. “My parents and siblings are all dead. Were it not for the charity of Sir William and his good wife, I would be starving and forced to find my shelter in the forest.”
Eleanor wondered if Sir William had another reason for keeping the woman in his service. Eluned owned some beauty with her pale skin, gray eyes, and black hair. She looked back at the man’s wife and repeated her question about what the lady had said in her offered testimony.
“All I did,” the Lady Mary said with a hint of annoyance, “was offer my testimony that Hywel, although accused of treason against our king, had always been known in this village as a sober man, a skilled craftsman, and a faithful husband to an English wife. As such, I begged some mercy for him in the sentencing.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “No one thought it odd that I did so.”
Except your husband, the prioress thought. “You are certain you never had any actual contact with him?”
That question was waved away with a lazy toss of the woman’s hand. “Of course not! I do not interact with stonemasons. Rainold, my husband’s younger brother, had dealings with him and had no issue with the simple statement I offered on the brigand’s behalf. That was all.”
Yet he was the one who testified against Hywel. Eleanor thought that was an interesting twist to the tale.
The Twice-Hanged Man Page 7