The Twice-Hanged Man

by Priscilla Royal

  He tried hard to believe her. The noon meal, as she promised, had been especially good, and he never found reason to suspect her of adulterous thoughts again.

  Yet he had remained angry with Hywel for causing him to doubt his wife at all, and, when the man came to protest the innocence of his brothers and suggested he had been the leader of those who killed the sleeping soldiers instead, he was overwhelmed with a strong desire for revenge.

  Now he wondered if the man had actually confessed. In truth, he could no longer remember his exact words. Was it a confession or simply a badly worded plea to free the brothers? Had his rage against the stonemason and longing for retaliation blinded him?

  Surely the hanging was warranted, whatever he personally felt. Hywel had not protested his arrest, and even if he had put him in prison out of personal hate, he was a fair man. He never let a man be condemned without verification of any confession. After confirmation of Hywel’s guilt was discovered, he did feel joy but also refused to attend the execution lest God disapprove of his delight.

  The sharp mist from the river bit his cheeks and numbed his fingers, and he grumbled, again cursing the innkeeper. When Rainold told him of the man’s request, his brother was apologetic. But it wasn’t his fault, as he quickly told him, for not asking more questions to discover why the location of the meeting was necessary. Rainold suspected Wido felt it safer for him not to be seen speaking to the sheriff in a location well-known by the villagers. The innkeeper had always been squeamish about seeming to be too friendly with the upholders of the law.

  “The innkeeper always has been womanish,” he muttered. “I believe the tales that all of Maud’s girls together have failed to stiffen his manhood.”

  When he approached the bridge, he slowed, trying to stare more deeply into the darkness. With no moon, it was difficult to see anything.

  “Lord Sheriff!”

  Sir William was startled, spun around, and gripped his sword.

  “Here, my lord!”

  The voice was not one he recognized, although it was hard to hear anything clearly with the roar of the dark river water surging under the bridge.

  “Where are you?” he shouted back.

  “Come down the embankment to the path, my lord. It is drier here under the bridge.”

  “I hope the Devil rips off his balls, if he even has them,” Sir William grumbled and inched his way down the very steep embankment. Once he slipped and uttered another oath as his hands found a root strong enough to keep him from tumbling into the river. Finally, he reached the path and stared in vain into the night.

  “You had better have important information, Wido, or you will rue the day you brought me here.”

  “I do,” the voice said right behind him. “I think you might like to meet the one who murdered both priest and hangman.”

  Sir William spun around and reached for his sword. But when he saw who had spoken, he cried out in horror.

  His last thought, before the blow struck him, was that this was such a cold and lonely spot to die.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The Lady Mary wilted onto the bench, pressed her fingers against her eyes, and moaned.

  Although the news of Sir William’s grisly beheading with his own sword was appalling, Eleanor uncharacteristically struggled to feel sympathy for this woman. Despite presumed grief and shock over the brutal murder, the grieving widow still managed to pose herself in a manner most pleasing to the eye. Even her moan was vaguely melodic. Uncharitable though it was, the prioress could not dismiss her observation and wondered if the new widow felt much anguish at all.

  As the lady lowered her hands, the prioress noticed no redness in her eyes, common when tears of profound misery are shed. In fact, the woman’s cheeks appeared remarkably dry.

  “Fear not, my lady,” Rainold said, his words as smooth as one of Sister Anne’s balms. “Now that I am heir to your husband’s lands and title, I swear to honor you as his widow.” He touched her shoulder briefly. “You may never have given my brother the son he longed for, but you were his beloved wife and shall want for nothing as long as you live under my roof.”

  The Lady Mary waved at her maid with an impatient gesture.

  Eluned inserted a bit of cloth into her mistress’s hand.

  Pressing this soft cloth over her entire face, the lady uttered what sounded like a convincing sob.

  Surely I am being unfair, Eleanor thought with determined sympathy, yet her mind refused to acknowledge any cause for a kinder assessment. She glanced at Sister Anne beside her.

  The sub-infirmarian’s face was admirably unreadable, but the quick look she gave back in response flashed a hint that she shared her prioress’ opinion.

  “That was our deepest sorrow!” From behind the cloth, the widow wailed at a pitch that succeeded in not offending sensitive ears. “I longed to bear him a son. I failed, yet he never once threatened to set me aside for a fertile woman.”

  This time, when Sir Rainold touched Lady Mary’s shoulder, he let his fingers linger an instant longer. “He was a good man. All knew he was stern in defense of the king’s law, but he was ever fair and charitable.” Sir Rainold’s dazzling smile displayed every one of his white front teeth.

  The widow lowered the cloth and looked up at him with an expression of deep humility that was perfectly constructed to show a barren wife’s gratitude.

  Eleanor was not impressed by the performance of either Sir William’s widow or younger brother. Both are hiding something, she thought. Might this pair have a more intimate relationship than what was allowed by the bonds of their particular kinship?

  As if sensing her thoughts, Sir Rainold gave the prioress a questioning look.

  Eleanor did her best to eliminate any trace of her suspicions from her expression.

  The new heir returned to murmuring supportive platitudes to the bereaved widow.

  Compared to Sir William, who was aging into a corpulent fellow, Eleanor recognized that the brother-in-law had his charm.

  He is much fitter than the dead sheriff, she thought, as well as several years younger. I may find nothing tempting about him, but he is well-favored enough to spark lust in other women. And both Lady Mary and Sir Rainold are much alike, she reminded herself, a similarity that might well have drawn them very close together.

  “My lady?” Eluned spoke with hesitancy and a hint of fear.

  “What is it?” The mistress turned and glared at her maid.

  “The furred gloves, my lady. You wanted me to see the merchant about it again.”

  “I did?” The woman shook her head with a confused look.

  “Yesterday.”

  “Then go!” Lady Mary snapped and waved the maid off. “Tell him that his delay is crueler now that I suffer deep mourning for my dead lord.” She uttered a low moan, one clearly appropriate in pitch and dignity for a lady of her rank and sorrow.

  “I will return with little delay,” Eluned replied and fled the room.

  The glover is not your destination, Eleanor thought, and knew she must follow.

  As the two religious began to offer consolation, the prioress caught Sister Anne’s eye and relayed a silent message.

  The sub-infirmarian discreetly nodded.

  After she had deemed enough time had passed for Eluned to get the food and drink she needed to take to the crypt, Eleanor offered her apologies for needing to return to the lodge.

  Sister Anne assured the grieving widow and Sir Rainold that she would stay to pray with them for the soul of the murdered sheriff.

  With grave mien and somber pace, Eleanor left the room.

  As soon as she was outside, however, she saw Eluned in the distance. Lifting her robe so she wouldn’t trip, the Prioress of Tyndal ran with the speed of a child at play to the abbey church.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The crypt d
oor was ajar by a crack.

  Eleanor hesitated long enough to press her ear to the opening and listen for voices.

  In her rush to catch the maid and reveal the woman’s secret purpose, the prioress realized she had not only abandoned convention but common sense. Sister Anne had been left behind, and her vocation always required a companion for the sake of propriety. In this situation, wisdom also demanded the company of another for protection in case the revelation of what Eluned was doing was a dangerous discovery.

  Nonetheless, I am here and must act, she thought, and quickly uttered a silent apology to God. With three deaths, two of which were unquestionably murders, she explained to Him, I could not wait for another opportunity to confront the maid. I beg Your mercy and protection!

  Hearing no sound from the crypt and taking a deep breath, Eleanor inched her way through the open door, and slipped down the stairs.

  A feeble light wavered below, presumably from a cresset lamp, but silence continued to rule.

  Just before the last step, Eleanor carefully looked around the corner of the wall.

  The light was resting in a niche above the area where she and Brother Thomas had found the evidence of food and drink. Eluned had put the items she had now brought on top of one of the coffins and was bending to pick up what had been left.

  How does she protect the food from rodents, the prioress wondered, and why had she left the box and mazer on the floor before?

  Seeing no one else there, Eleanor took the final step into the crypt. “Are you feeding one murderer or two, Eluned?”

  The maid spun around, screamed, and froze when she saw who had spoken.

  Realizing that she stood between the woman and safety, Eleanor braced herself lest the woman attack. In order to escape, Eluned would have to strike or kill her.

  For a tense moment, the two women stared at each other.

  Eluned slowly knelt and raised her hands in a gesture that begged mercy. “Neither, my lady. I swear it.” There was no defiance in her tone, but there was an odd sadness.

  “Not Hywel’s two missing brothers?” Eleanor decided to trust her impression that the maid offered no threat and stepped a bit closer so she might study the woman better in the poor light.

  “If God granted them clemency, they reached Wales long ago. No one has seen them since they took Hywel’s body from the hangman.”

  Skilled though Eluned might be in the cautious evasions that wise servants soon learned with their masters, the prioress had met others far more adept at polishing a lie into the semblance of truth. Years of unmasking the vilest of sinners made the task of deceiving Eleanor a difficult one. She smiled at the maid’s weak feint and pushed her harder for facts. “Yet you sympathize with them or you would not have suggested that God had reason for leniency.”

  Eluned sat back on her heels and bowed her head. When she raised it, her eyes now held that missing hint of boldness. “They have been found guilty of no crime, my lady, either under English or Welsh law. They may have expressed a phrase or two of protest about the king’s insistence on following English law in Wales, as if we were a lesser form of God’s creatures than those who inhabit other nations. Would it be wrong to complain about the treatment of Welsh traders by English residents of castle towns who cheated them and mocked them as barbarians?”

  “They were not arrested by Sir William for such opinions, Eluned, but rather for slaughtering defenseless Englishmen in their sleep.”

  “For convenience sake alone were they cast into prison. No one saw them commit this crime. They were deemed guilty by the local men for nothing more than their race and their sympathies for kin treated like animals.”

  “Imprisoned only for the sake of convenience?” Eleanor felt a flash of anger over the accusation of unfairness. “Were they not then released just as quickly by the king’s sheriff?”

  Eluned chose to say nothing.

  “When the killer confessed, he was arrested instead.”

  “Hywel was just as innocent!”

  Curiosity and surprise took over, and Eleanor felt her anger fade. The maid’s words had been spoken with a passion far greater than might be expected in defense of the husband of a dead friend. Switching to a sympathetic tone, she urged the maid to explain.

  “He never actually confessed, my lady.” Her voice caught as if clothed in a sob. “It is true that he did not protest when he was imprisoned. All he wanted was for his brothers to be freed so they could escape into Wales. He believed them to be wrongly accused.” She swallowed with a hiccup. “None of us thought he would be condemned. Sir William was not a brute. He insisted on collaboration of any guilt at the trial. Hywel knew there could be no witness to confirm that he was there that terrible night, let alone that he was the leader of the band. He had faith that the sheriff would be fair and release him.”

  “I understood that he did confess.”

  Eluned’s face colored. “With respect, my lady, Sir William alone heard what he said, and he claimed Hywel specifically said those words.” She shook her head as if recalling whom she served. “My master must have misunderstood exactly what Hywel said. I have heard it told that the stonemason merely suggested guilt but did not actually say he had killed anyone.”

  “And you heard this from whom?”

  Eluned bowed her head. “The brothers spoke with him in prison. Perhaps others as well. It was a story told on market day and had the ring of truth.”

  Gossip on market days did not convince Eleanor. “Rainold came forth as a confirming witness to this confession,” she said, her voice kept neutral.

  Eluned slapped her hand on the floor. “Was he even there, my lady? Ask yourself that question. He never came forth when the two brothers lay in a cell, even to say aye or nay. Why do so only when Hywel was on trial?”

  To herself, Eleanor agreed that she had made a valid argument with that observation. Yet how did the question of Rainold’s motivation for not coming forth until Hywel was on trial have a bearing on the murders? Hywel was dead. No one had seen the brothers since the hanging. And who but they would care to seek revenge on those who had hanged the stonemason?

  Still, Eleanor was troubled. The two should have fled immediately after release, yet they remained until after the hanging. If they knew he was innocent, would they not have escaped? Once his scheme to get them freed was revealed, they surely knew that they might well be arrested again.

  She expressed her belief and waited to hear how Eluned would respond.

  “Of course, they knew he was innocent, but they could not leave him without kin or friend under the circumstances. After Hywel was condemned, they were ordered to lead him to the gallows with his rope in hand as a cruel example to others who might be traitors to King Edward. They did so, not out of humiliation, but to comfort him. Escape was still possible while the crowds were celebrating Hywel’s death.”

  “You insist there was no witness to the attack,” Eleanor said, trying another approach. “How can you be so sure Rainold was not telling the truth and might have been the witness he claimed to be?” She hesitated. “Perhaps he was still healing from his wounds when the brothers were put in a cell and could not come forth until later.”

  Eluned seemed to ponder that for a long time, then looked back at the prioress. “There was a story that he had slipped away that night of the murders, abandoning his post and his fellow soldiers to meet with a woman.”

  “Yet he was wounded.”

  “That same tale suggests he injured himself to support his lie.”

  Men had been known to cut themselves, even severely, to hide their cowardice, Eleanor reminded herself. “Does anyone else know more of this tryst?”

  “This is about the sheriff’s younger brother, my lady. If anyone knows more, they are unlikely to confess it for fear of retaliation, and I am unable to give you names of those who whispered the story. It w
as another I overheard in the stalls on a market day.”

  More gossip, Eleanor thought, or was it? She could not discount that this maid had better sources than that. She was too intelligent to be convinced solely on the word of some fishmonger’s wife. Perhaps it was more probable that Eluned was unwilling to give names. “Then, if you can, tell me who the last person was to see the two brothers.”

  “I do not know for certain, but it might have been Lambard, the spice merchant. It was he to whom they took Hywel’s body. The merchant offered them the use of a hut behind his house to cleanse the corpse for burial.”

  Eleanor unconsciously took a step back. This spice merchant whom Brother Thomas met at the inn? Yet this man had not mentioned this detail of his assistance to the dead man’s brothers to the monk. The prioress had no doubt Brother Thomas would have told her had the spicer said anything. She would ask, of course, but the omission was odd after the man had told her monk he wanted to help in finding the answer to the ghost. Perhaps the detail was meaningless, but that was not up to Lambard to decide.

  “Very well, Eluned, I shall seek him out, but, as you well know, you have something to confess.” She gestured around the crypt.

  The maid’s eyes darted left and right, then focused once again on the prioress standing in front of her.

  Eleanor took a chance, knelt before Eluned who had remained on her knees, and grasped her hands. “Child, I wish you no ill. You claim you are not feeding a murderer. Then who are you bringing food from Sir William’s table to sustain?”

  Eluned began to weep. “Please, my lady, I do no real harm in this. First, let me ask if it is a crime to suggest that our king could have come to better terms with the Welsh princes. I speak only of one’s hope to end this war with honor and nothing of treason. Our king has been a strong advocate for good laws and a consistent adherence to them. Could he not show the same wisdom with his subject lords?”

  “One might debate that without offending God or even his anointed king.” Eleanor thought this was an odd question in response to her query and had no idea what Eluned intended with such a reply.