“Tell the story!” The sheriff barked and then turned to face his guests with the gruffness noted in the earlier visit.
Rainold shrugged. “I had enjoyed my friend’s wine, but I was sober when I left him.”
“Did you notice anything odd on your return from his house?” Thomas had remained silent until now.
Eleanor was surprised by his sudden question but was grateful he had asked it instead of her. She wanted more time to step back mentally and study this younger brother who had testified against Hywel.
“On my way home, and just past the inn, I thought I saw a figure hiding in the shadows. I stopped. Even though thievery is rare in our peaceful village, thanks to the firm rule of law, a wise man remains wary.” He bowed to his brother. “As I looked more attentively at the figure, I could not see his face, but I would have sworn that the light from the inn passed through what was visible of his body as if it owned no substance. Of course, the light was weak, yet I was uneasy.”
Eleanor noted that he did not swear on his soul or by any saint. Then she wondered why she should be so troubled by that. He had taken no oath and was simply relaying what he had observed. She dismissed her concern as petty.
“I am not a man prone to seeing nonexistent things and decided everything was just a trick of light and darkness. In fact, he raised a hand and gestured as if summoning me. Assuming he had honest cause, I approached. The inn door was open. Many could come to my aid if the man had some ill intent. I felt safe.” Rainold looked down at his cup, turned to the servant, and requested more wine.
“Get on with it,” Sir William growled.
Eleanor almost thanked him.
His cup refilled, the younger brother drank deeply and then said in a tone that suggested fright, the depth of which he would likely deny, “To my dismay, when I got closer, I recognized the man as Hywel!”
“When was this?” Thomas was scowling.
Eleanor noted with relief that her monk had regained his wits and sounded fully recovered from whatever had caused his recent disturbing collapse.
“I cannot say, Brother,” Rainold said. “When my friend and I are recalling our youthful errors, we do not listen for church bells or seek the position of the moon and stars. Nor did I care about such observations after I left him. I can only confirm that it was most certainly long past my usual time for sleep.”
Eleanor liked this man no more than the absent Lady Mary. Had she not known Rainold was Sir William’s brother, she would have guessed that he was kin to the wife. Each is inclined to an irritating superficiality, she thought.
Immediately, she rebuked herself. Her annoyance with them was probably due more to her inability to easily solve this spectral problem after she had concluded it would take her little time to do so. Chastising herself for pointing to the sins of others to disguise her own wicked pride, she chose to remain silent.
Sir William snorted and told his brother to continue. But even he summoned the servant for wine and quickly drained his mazer.
Rainold extended his own cup for more but drank more moderately than his elder brother. “I was shocked by the sight and stepped back in terror. In doing so, I tripped and fell. The cause was a drunken oaf who was coming up behind me. Foolish man! He could have called out and I wouldn’t have soiled my favorite robe on the filthy ground.” With a fatuous grin, he pointed at his elder sibling. “Really, brother! Is there nothing you can do about keeping the streets around the inn cleaner?”
“That is not my job as sheriff, you fool! Find another way home from your debauches!”
Good-naturedly, Rainold shook his head in mock dismay. “But I managed to get back on my feet. No help from the lout! He staggered off to the inn, oblivious to my plight. The specter had also vanished. I confess I shivered but concluded I might have drunk more deeply with my friend than I had thought.”
“Did you look for the man?” Thomas tilted his head as if merely curious.
“There was no sign of the creature.”
Eleanor was quite aware he had evaded her monk’s question with an inadequate reply. Had Rainold been more frightened by the phantom than he dared confess? Had his pride prevented him from admitting he had no wish to look for a ghost that might have been luring him to Hell? Had Rainold even seen the creature? If not, was there a reason he would lie? A longing to step out of the shadow of his brother? She could not ignore the latter. Or was there another reason entirely?
“What did you do instead?” Thomas’ eyes narrowed slightly.
The prioress was pleased he had also observed the equivocation.
“I went home where I met the night watchman.”
“Did he see Hywel?” Thomas smiled as if jesting.
“The man stank. He’d pissed himself,” Rainold replied with a short burst of laughter. “I thought at first he had seen a ghost, but it was the hangman’s corpse that scared him. He was quivering like a loose feather in a high wind when he approached me. I didn’t question him. He was too terrified by Bardolph swinging on the gallows to see anything else.”
The prioress lifted her hand as a sign to Brother Thomas that she wished to pose a question, then asked, “Did he take you to the gallows?”
“I insisted.” Rainold raised his cup as if saluting himself. “It was Bardolph, all right. We cut him down, and I told the watchman to have the corpse taken to Abbot Gerald. Since I assumed Hywel’s last victim had been buried, there had to be room for another in his chapel.” He smiled at what he clearly thought was clever reasoning.
“And what did you do next?” Eleanor refused an offer of wine from the servant.
Rainold languidly raised an eyebrow as if he thought the question was too idiotic to answer.
The prioress chose to ignore the rudeness and repeated it just to annoy the man.
“Well, I made sure the watchman followed orders. Would you believe that he actually wanted to go home and leave the body for the morning? I set him right about that! I guarded the corpse until he brought some men to carry the body, and then I followed the company to the abbey. At least the watchman had sent someone to awaken the abbot with the news, and he was waiting for poor, dead Bardolph with a few sleepy-eyed monks.”
“Well done, brother,” the sheriff muttered. “We must be firm. There is little respect for duty and responsibility these days. Mark how a man like Hywel, taken to the bosom of our village, turned into an ungrateful rebel. Young people now disrespect their elders…”
Eleanor let him mumble on as she addressed Rainold. “After you had the corpse taken to the abbey, what did you do next?”
“Woke Sir William and told him the tale.”
“And when morning light arrived soon after, I sent a servant to fetch you,” the sheriff said.
Now the younger brother looked at his elder with a more solemn expression. “You know, I had always thought Hywel to be a decent enough man, hardworking and reliable. Rarely remembered he was Welsh. Even knowing I was right to tell you that I had seen him kill soldiers, I regretted that I had to tell this sad truth at the trial. Now that his angry spirit has apparently come back from Hell and killed two innocent men, I fear he must have been wicked all along.” He shook his head. “Yet I grieve. It is well his wife has been long dead. She would have died of shame at his hanging.”
“Her only remaining brother came to me and swore they were all deceived when she married him or they would have refused to allow it.” Sir William shook his head.
“You are now convinced it was Hywel you saw last night? Might the phantom have had the opportunity to murder Bardolph?” Eleanor was interested in how Rainold replied.
“I saw something, my lady,” he said. “I have never seen a vision, suffered dreams while awake, or been inclined to imagine things when I have drunk a little wine. I hesitate to confirm these tales, but I most certainly recognized Hywel’s face. When I walked close
r to him, there was enough light from the inn to see more clearly. And who else would have killed Bardolph? People here avoided the hangman, but he wasn’t hated.”
“Could the crime have been committed by one of his brothers, whom you mistook for Hywel in the dark?” The prioress tried hard to disguise how much she hoped he would agree.
“Nay. Hywel looked nothing like them. They are ugly brutes, low-browed, and hairy as Satan. They are twins, yet survived to manhood.” He scowled with disgust. “But the Welsh are beloved by the Devil so their survival should not surprise.”
Eleanor knew that both babies in a birth of twins rarely survived, but such births were believed by some to mean the mother had lain with two different men or even the Devil.
The sheriff began to pace in a tight circle. “I have never believed in ghosts, never seen one, nor gagged on the Devil’s sulfurous reek on a dark night either. Yet two men connected with the brigand’s death have met tragic ends. A priest? The hangman?” He stopped and glared at the monastics. “Bardolph was a good servant of the king. He was experienced, and the condemned died fast enough. He didn’t deserve this any more than Father Payn. Both may have been sinners, as all sons of Adam are, but each was a dutiful servant to his respective master.”
Eleanor was suddenly struck by a thought. The priest, who had refused absolution, was killed with all his sins on his soul. The hangman was hanged on his own gallows. Might there be a meaning in these methods of death? But were they revenge by an angry spirit released from Hell and seeking retribution? Would Satan even care about this comparatively minor event in a small English village when he had many other condemned souls with greater cause to wreak a more devastating havoc on the Earth? Some had claimed that the Prince of Darkness had a fondness for the Welsh, and thus would have favored Hywel’s cause. But Eleanor believed that such a conviction was more firmly grounded in the biased passions of war than in anything proven.
Sir William slammed his cup down on a table. “I want answers!” he shouted. “Abbot Gerald isn’t the only one who wants this evil spirit sent back to Hell!”
“And we shall do our best,” Eleanor replied with dignity and far more calm than she felt.
“We have given our word to God, and sacred vows cannot be dismissed,” Thomas added.
May it be so with you as well, Eleanor said to herself as she glanced up at her monk.
Chapter Twenty
Brother Thomas and Rainold walked in silence through the village to the abbey chapel.
Even though Sister Anne had wished to return to the lodge to tend Elizabeth and the child, and the prioress had chosen to accompany her, the monk insisted on seeing Bardolph’s corpse.
Rainold could not understand any reason to do so and asked why Thomas doubted the manner of death. Was there any question that the man was found hanging?
But Prioress Eleanor supported her monk’s request and insisted there was good cause. Ghosts often left a unique mark, she argued, something that might be helpful in making any required exorcism successful.
Hearing that, Sir William ordered his brother to accompany the monk, lest there be any further questions after viewing the body.
“What more can you tell me about the spirit of Hywel you saw last night?” Thomas knew he was abrupt, but he longed for sleep and was annoyed by having this man accompany him.
Rainold looked at him in surprise. “What do you want to know, Brother? I have told you everything.”
“Did you know Hywel well?
“As you may have noticed, this is a small village. Yes, his face was well-known to me. I had had dealings with him when my brother needed his skills on family properties.” He pursed his lips. “Although the light from the inn seemed to shine through him, his head was clear enough although very pale. I saw his features plainly.”
Thomas nodded. Although it had not been a full moon, he remembered he had found his way through the night easily enough after he fled from the merchant. “Had he cousins or brothers other than the twins?”
Rainold laughed. “None that I ever knew. Besides, I could see the dark mark left by the noose under his chin that extended back to his ears on both sides. I will swear, if need be, that the creature I saw was the phantom of the man hanged for murder.”
A man shouted, and Thomas stopped to look toward the abbey.
Abbot Gerald was hurrying toward them.
“Well met!” Rainold called out. “No sooner are you able to bury one corpse than the village sends you another, Abbot.”
Gerald paled except for two scarlet marks of anger on his cheeks. “I would gladly abjure such secular generosity in exchange for more coin to the glory of God,” he said, each word sharply enunciated. He turned to the monk. “I had been given hope that the evil spirit would be banished quickly before it could steal any more souls for his hellish master.”
“I am here to examine the corpse,” Thomas said with surprising meekness. “Perhaps Bardolph was killed by more mortal hands.”
The abbot pointed at the sheriff’s brother. “He saw the ghost of the hanged man last night near the inn.”
“I fear I did relay the news.” Rainold looked embarrassed. “Perhaps I should not have mentioned that when I sent word to Abbot Gerald?”
“There was no error in what you said,” Thomas said, “only in your suggestion that the dead man and the second sighting of Hywel were linked.”
“But surely they are!” Abbot Gerald was sputtering.
“Forgive me,” Thomas said, “but I do wish to confirm that there is no reason to suspect the king’s justice, not the Church’s rule, applies here. If I may examine Bardolph’s body, I will do so as quickly as possible.” His swift smile was intended to hide his irritation. “If God is merciful, I may find that Bardolph either died by his own hand or with the aid of a common mortal who held a grudge against him.”
The abbot’s eyebrows shot up with hope. “Then examine him, Brother! Although I would grieve if he died by a mortal hand or committed self-murder, I would be grateful to be relieved of any fear that Hell’s pollution infects our chapel.”
* * *
It did not take the monk long to discover the likely cause of the hangman’s death. As he examined the man’s head, he felt a thick crust that had dried in his hair. Stepping over to a dying torch that offered some light in the darkness, he took it back to the corpse.
With better light, Thomas could see where the blood that formed the crust had come from. Just above the ear, he felt an unnatural indentation that was most likely the result of a heavy blow. God apparently had chosen to grant the abbot’s prayer, he thought, although he had noted no lesser sense of evil in the discovery.
“A ghost does not need to strike a man before he hangs him,” Thomas said to the sheriff’s brother and showed him the wound. “Without a more thorough examination, I cannot be certain this blow did not kill him. I would like the opinion of Sister Anne, but I am inclined to believe he might have survived it.”
“Perhaps another hit Bardolph, robbed him, and the malign spirit then came by and hanged him?”
Thomas bit his tongue to keep from expressing utter disdain for that logic. Also resisting the temptation to repeat what he had just said in a mocking tone, the monk continued. “Would Bardolph have carried anything so worthy of theft? Robbers are more likely to strike drunken merchants on their way home through darkened streets than the village executioner who must be far poorer.”
Rainold reluctantly agreed, and then quickly added, “Nor would they take the time to hang a victim they had robbed.”
Thomas nodded, thankful that the sheriff’s brother had finally shown he owned some wits. “A man who wishes to disguise the death as self-murder, however, might well render his victim senseless and then hang him.”
Rainold sighed. “I am relieved, Brother. May I assume you have concluded that these two recent deaths
are a coincidence?”
Hiding his actual thoughts on the matter, Thomas simply laid his hand on the corpse as if to suggest concurrence. Then he turned back to briefly check if he had missed anything else, decided there was nothing else to discover, and said he was done.
As they reached the chapel door, Rainold looked back at the corpse. “Sir William will not be pleased that he has a murder to solve, Brother.” He coughed as if trying to disguise a laugh. “He might have preferred that the spirit of Hywel had done it. It is easier to let God handle those things.”
“Surely, he has ideas about likely suspects. Bardolph must have had a few enemies. In his profession, how could he not?”
“Perhaps he did, but I fear there are many Welsh hiding in the shadows of the local forest these days, Brother. They might have resented the death of a fellow rebel, and they tend to be more elusive than Satan’s other minions.” He nodded with satisfaction over this idea.
Thomas chose not to reply, and the two men walked on.
As they neared the village square, Rainold stopped and pointed toward the inn. “I meant to warn you of something, Brother, for you do not know the people here well.”
“I thank you,” Thomas said. “What should I know?”
“Not long after I picked myself up from the ground near the inn last night, I saw you leaving with the spice merchant.”
Thomas felt his face turn as cold as ice.
The sheriff’s brother chuckled. “I drew no conclusions,” he said, emphasizing each word, “but I was concerned by what happened next. Since Lambard is a local man, I was surprised he led you to that dark alley.” He paused, smiling as if amused by something in the monk’s eyes. “It is, shall I say, a very dangerous area. I pray you came to no harm...” He stared at Thomas’ face as his words trailed off.
Thomas prayed that he not betray his dread at what this man might have witnessed. “I am grateful for your warning,” he said with an effort at mild embarrassment. “I fear he and I had too much ale, and we needed a place to relieve ourselves, but we were also seeking the ghost. Perhaps that is why he took me where he did. In truth, I think he mentioned there had been a sighting of the imp nearby. God was kind, and neither of us came to any harm.”
The Twice-Hanged Man Page 10