The Twice-Hanged Man

by Priscilla Royal

  According to Brother Thomas, Bardolph was struck unconscious before he was hanged and Sir William was as well before he was decapitated. To her mind, and her fellow monastics, those were the acts of a mortal. Imps can hang or chop heads with the simple wave of a clawed hand.

  Eleanor opened her eyes and stared at the sky through the treetops. The death of Father Payn was a fine inspiration for someone who had been hoping to find a way to achieve some purpose and now saw a way by blaming a ghost.

  She laughed. “If so,” she said to the murmuring of insect and avian life around her, “the death of Father Payn was an accident, and poor Bardolph was killed solely because his death would help further cast the real intent into shadow. The intended victim has been Sir William all along.”

  Although her heart now raced with excitement, she forced herself to consider alternative conclusions but found no other that fit what appeared to be the motive quite so well. The only doubt that remained was whether the sheriff’s death was the end point or other murders might occur.

  So who was the murderer?

  Loving Hywel, Eluned might have reason to seek revenge for his condemnation, if not his death, but she could not have struck either Bardolph or her master hard enough to stun them. Nor was she likely to have the strength to hoist one man up on the gallows beam or strike another’s head off. Then there was the detail of Lady Mary demanding her maid remain within call at night since the hanging. That might be an odd request, one to which Eleanor would give further thought, but neither did she have cause to cast it aside.

  Had Hywel helped the maid? A man twice hanged, but who still lived, was unlikely to stay around for a possible third hanging if he had the chance to flee to Wales. From what she had learned of the man, he truly did not seem inclined to violence. It seemed more likely that he had chosen to accept his survival as a precious miracle and hide until he could safely escape.

  Indeed, Eluned seemed a weak suspect.

  She could not entirely dismiss Lambard, who had certainly contributed to this tangled story of alleged treason, God’s mercy, secret lovers, and as yet incompletely answered motives for murder.

  It did seem that the spice merchant was viewed with some unease. Bardolph’s mistress praised him for his charity, and other villagers would likely do the same, and yet her comment that he did not take advantage of her whorehouse did not sound quite like the virtue it should. Although Eleanor had not heard how Mistress Maud had phrased it, she had seen Brother Thomas’ look when he repeated the conversation. There was an inexplicable shadow that crossed his face. At the time, she had not questioned him further and now regretted her failure.

  Yet she had no good reason to think the merchant was disloyal to the king, and Eleanor was inclined to believe the tale of Hywel’s innocence. Lambard gained nothing from the death of Sir William. He seemed to have some quarrel with Father Payn, but Sister Anne believed that to be a natural death, a conclusion against which there was no rational argument.

  The prioress shook her head. Lambard might have his secrets and his transgressions, but she did not think he was guilty of murder. She was inclined to set his name aside as she had Eluned.

  That left the Lady Mary and the new heir, Sir Rainold.

  There was reason enough to assume that the younger brother had lusted after the title and lands. It was not an uncommon tale, and he would not be the first younger son to find a way to prematurely inherit when he might especially enjoy the wealth from land and rents in his comparative youth.

  In addition, there was one more detail that pointed to Rainold as the killer. If revenge had ever been the motive, he should have died after Bardolph. He was the most instrumental person in guaranteeing Hywel’s guilty verdict. All Sir William did was order the trial and confirm the result of the verdict. In short, the wrong man had been killed after the hangman.

  But Eleanor was not sure Rainold was alone in this quest. She had suspected the brother-in-law and sister-in-law were lovers. They were much alike and too close in age. Yet she was not sure just how deeply the young widow had been involved in the plot.

  At no point had Eleanor seen any cleverness in the woman. Maybe her only guilt lay in the still grievous sin of adultery. If she was as frivolous and self-absorbed as she seemed, the true planning had to have been done by her ambitious lover. The only one who should hang was Sir Rainold. Although an adulterous woman could be burned at the stake for her sin, the king usually left the punishment to the Church. Thus, penance would remain the duty of Lady Mary’s priest.

  The prioress stood, brushed off her habit, and looked back over her shoulder at the lodge. Birdsong ceased at her movement and even the breeze hesitated.

  “Now that I must return to the world of mortals,” she whispered into the sudden hush surrounding her, “I must find a way to get the man to confess since I have no good evidence and am unlikely to find any.”

  With determined stride, she walked back to the lodge. Since the sheriff was dead, and no one had yet been chosen to replace him, Robert must take on the authority of the local lord and provide the men she needed. As representative of Baron Hugh of Wynethorpe, her brother was also the best witness to what she hoped would be a confession by one who had not only given false witness at the trial that condemned an innocent stonemason, but was also a double murderer.

  It remained Eleanor’s responsibility to make sure there was at least one person, perhaps two, to arrest.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Lies. All lies.” Sir Rainold folded his arms and gazed at his accusers with mocking smugness.

  The Lady Mary stood near the wall with her maid beside her and away from the assembled group. Although her head was bowed, and her expression unreadable, her stance suggested that she did not understand why she, a simple daughter of Eve, had been asked to join this gathering of men and the highborn Prioress of Tyndal.

  “Who dares to tell such tales?” His tone was less a question than a taunt.

  “I would not come here with my brother and his men if I did not have good reason,” Eleanor said in a voice that would freeze the resolve of most mortals.

  Rainold was not deterred. “Forgive me, my lady, for I honor your vocation, but your concept of reason is still that of a woman.”

  She smiled with the warmth of ice.

  Robert, who had been watching her, winced.

  “Proof!” Rainold snapped his fingers.

  “Statements will be given at your trial,” she replied, “but I shall begin with this: there is no ghost in this village. Father Payn died of a failing heart when he saw something that startled him, but the deaths of Bardolph and Sir William were caused by a hand made of flesh and blood.”

  The man pursed his lips with churlish disdain.

  Ignoring his swaggering attempts to unsettle her, Eleanor chose to reply in the manner of a mother dealing with a truculent child. “For that conclusion, there is sufficient evidence. Lest there be any doubt about my ability to recognize this, Abbot Gerald will confirm that imps do not need to render their victims unconscious before killing them.”

  “You have revealed nothing that points to the hand being mine.”

  “You asked for a logical conclusion, Sir Rainold, and I am starting by giving you the facts on which it is based. Patience is a virtue that is often rewarding.”

  He nodded but looked heavenward, clearly suggesting he was showing virtue enough by enduring a woman’s typically torturous route to any conclusion.

  “The death of the priest, and Bardolph’s testimony that the ghost of Hywel had been seen kneeling by the corpse, gave one man the idea for how he might disguise murder. Indeed, it was a clever stratagem to use the tale of a damned soul bent on vengeance.”

  Rainold blinked and briefly smiled.

  Eleanor noted that and continued. “Bardolph and Sir William were first rendered unconscious, or even killed, and then th
eir corpses were carefully posed. The hangman was hauled up on his own gallows, and the man who rendered judgment was decapitated. It appeared the stonemason’s tortured spirit murdered each according to the act committed that had sent him to Hell.”

  Rainold sighed.

  “I confess that I need your help with one matter, something only a man of your preeminence can do.” Eleanor tilted her head and gave the man a look of almost blinding admiration. “While I have been in this village, I have heard many say that you are a popular man, known to be possessed of unusual cleverness.” She hesitated, then smiled with evident appreciation. “It is never immodest to admit to a fact.”

  Rainold’s eyes brightened and he puffed out his chest. “It is true that I am noted for my superior wits.”

  “How sad that you were not the older brother. To his credit, however, Sir William did seem to acknowledge that you were far more capable than he.”

  After a brief hesitation, Rainold nodded although he looked perplexed.

  “He counted on you to manage the estates, and, I believe, often asked you to be his representative when he could not perform some duty as sheriff?”

  “That is all true.” Rainold frowned.

  “You were at the hanging of Hywel and the other felon, were you not?”

  Again, he nodded.

  “And, when the beam broke, you ordered Bardolph to hang both men again, even though Hywel had been declared dead and his body was covered with urine and feces. Why hang him twice?”

  “I committed no crime in that. The Welshman had been condemned for crimes against innocent Englishmen. The crowd loved my decision. They deserved to see him hanged again and mocked for the crimes he committed.”

  “Yet, in so doing, you put yourself in great danger. Should Hywel’s soul return from Hell to seek vengeance, it was you who ordered his corpse be treated with such contempt. In fact, you were in greater danger of revenge than your brother. Sir William tried to obtain objective proof that the stonemason was guilty, even though the man seems to have confessed. Of all those involved in Hywel’s hanging, Sir William was the least guilty because he tried to be fair.”

  Rainold looked horrified. “That means I would have been the next to be killed!”

  “Why, then, was Sir William killed first?” She tilted her head and watched him. “And, in answering that, let us not forget that there is no ghost.”

  He paled. “I do not understand your point in this.”

  The Lady Mary had raised her head and was now watching this interchange with much interest and an odd smile.

  Eleanor waited a moment longer before responding. “The answer is that the wrong man was killed after Bardolph. If revenge was the motive for the deaths, it should have been you for your testimony at the trial that condemned Hywel. But your brother’s death had always been the objective. When Father Payn died, and Bardolph said he had seen a ghost kneeling by the priest’s body, the killer realized how he could arrange a death he had long hoped for. There was no reason for Bardolph to die, other than to make your brother’s death look to be part of a pattern.” She glanced around and knew she had everyone’s attention.

  Rainold’s forehead glistened with sweat.

  “Thus no one would question it when you inherited everything as you had long thought was your due. Well done, Sir Rainold! No one else in this village could be so skillful in hiding murder.”

  “That is not true. I loved my brother.”

  The high-pitched, sharp laughter from Lady Mary caused the hair to rise on more than one neck.

  Only the prioress did not look surprised, and she turned to the woman with an encouraging smile.

  The widow pointed to her brother-in-law. “You lie. How often have you boasted to me that you were the best steward, that my husband was a ninny who could do nothing without you? You even told me what you would do if he should die without an heir, something you were sure he would never have because you claimed he was impotent.”

  “Be careful,” Rainold growled. “You have sins enough to hide, and I know them all.”

  She stepped forward and slapped his face with impressive force. “Where were you the night of my dear husband’s murder? I sought you for advice on an urgent matter, but you were nowhere to be found. When Bardolph was killed, you claimed to have been visiting an old friend. Yet he told me, when I met him in the market square, that you had only stopped for a moment before explaining you had a task to perform for me. Another lie, for I had begged no such favor.”

  Rainold’s face turned purple with rage.

  Lady Mary ignored him and turned to Prioress Eleanor and Robert of Wynethorpe. “I will gladly provide witness to all this and give you the names of men who can confirm what I tell you. I was not the only one to whom he said he hoped my husband would die and he could inherit.”

  “Whore!” Rainold screamed and lunged for the widow.

  One of the soldiers grabbed him. He and another man dragged Rainold back.

  The Lady Mary looked around at the others in the room. “Did you hear what he called me, this man who murdered my beloved lord?”

  “With cause!” Rainold shouted. “And I add to that an accusation that you are a witch!” He held out his one free hand to Robert and Eleanor with an imploring gesture. “She seduced me and begged me to free her from her husband’s bondage. She put me under a spell and, while I lay in her bed, said I should kill her husband. If I must hang for committing such a crime while I was under a spell, then she must burn at the stake for adultery and witchcraft.”

  Eleanor shut her eyes with gratitude. The man had just confessed.

  Despite the grim threat, the widow laughed again with honest merriment. “Burn? Adultery? My lord and I enjoyed a loving marriage. Only rarely did we not share a bed, and when he was absent, or I was suffering my courses, my devoted maid slept in my room to keep me company in my loneliness.” She gazed with much fondness at Eluned.

  “Indeed, that is true,” Eluned replied. “Either Sir William or I were in my lady’s company each night. She could not have lain with any other man.”

  When Eleanor looked at her, the maid dropped her gaze. It was an appropriate gesture for a servant in such an assembled company of the highborn, but the prioress suspected there was another reason. For a moment, she wondered if she should pursue her suspicions, then chose to remain silent. It was wisest, she decided, to remain satisfied with the victory she had won.

  The prioress turned to her brother and nodded.

  Robert stepped forward and gestured to his men. “He has confessed to murder. Arrest him.”

  Rainold struggled and could not free himself. Finally, he turned to Prioress Eleanor, his eyes glittering. “Do not do this, my lady,” he snarled. “You will regret your actions.”

  “That was a rash threat,” she replied. “I serve the God whom you must soon face. It would be more prudent to spend your remaining hours begging forgiveness for your sins.”

  Undeterred, he grinned back at her.

  Even though he was securely held, there was something in his expression that caused Eleanor a tremor of fear and made her step back.

  “Oh, but I do have cause, my lady,” he chortled. “How would the local bishop and your abbess in Anjou react if they learned that Brother Thomas was a sodomite?”

  Robert stared in horror at his sister.

  Eleanor could not respond. For that crucial moment, when she should have sharply retorted, the world seemed to tilt and she struggled to regain her balance. Fighting not to panic, she prayed silently for help.

  Rainold knew he had struck a good blow, and he hurried to take advantage of it. “The night your monk was drinking with the merchants at the inn, he left alone with Lambard, a man who is suspected with good cause by many to be a sodomite. You need not take my word. Ask others in the village.”

  Eleanor felt as if she had
turned to ice.

  “I saw them walk into a dark passage, very close together. Since I feared your monk might not know of the man’s wickedness, I was concerned and followed. The spot Lambard took him was well-known for evils committed and the presence of the Devil’s minions. It was then I saw Brother Thomas, his robes raised to his waist, and Lambard on his knees giving your monk a form of unchaste pleasure most abhorred by God.”

  Eleanor began to feel the welcome heat of anger but hoped that her face remained expressionless.

  “If you insist on my trial for murder, I shall announce to all what wickedness your monk has committed and you will lose a man whom, I believe, you cherish above all others.” He snickered over his blatant hint that she was also unchaste.

  Eleanor knew her face had turned red. Rainold may have thought he had humiliated her, but her reaction was based in rage.

  How dare he presume that she could be bribed when God’s justice was at stake? Whatever guilt she felt because of her love for Brother Thomas or even her shock at what Rainold was saying he had seen, she pushed all that aside and stepped forward with the expression of fury that would awe an archangel on the Judgment Day.

  Not expecting this reaction, Rainold backed into the men who held him prisoner.

  “Announce what you will to whomever you wish,” the prioress said in a tone pitched so low it rumbled like thunder. “It was at my command that Brother Thomas met with the merchants that night. He warned me that he might have to drink more than he should. Knowing him well, I knew he would be as temperate as possible, confess any excess, and serve his proper penance.”

  Rainold continued to grin but his lips trembled.

  “As for what happened in that dark alley, Brother Thomas told me the next morning that Lambard had led him to the passageway in hopes of seeing this alleged ghost. When they got there, the merchant, in his drunkenness, unexpectedly knelt before my monk, lifted his garments, and took hold of his genitals. Brother Thomas was frozen with disbelief but recovered and fled. He spent the night in anguished prayer. I have told him to confess and serve whatever hard penance he is given as soon as we return to our priory. Those are the circumstances you have tried to twist into a greater sin than occurred.” She gazed at him with utter contempt. “Now it is you who must think carefully. Whom do you think my abbess and the local bishop will believe? A man who foully murdered his brother out of greed? Or a monk who has, over many years, honored his vows and proven his devotion to God’s justice and service?”