Satan's Lullaby (10 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Gytha winced and pressed a hand against her belly.

“Is it time?” Signy stood up, a worried expression on her face.

“No, but he kicked hard enough to make me wish it were so.” Gytha started to grin but winced again. “Nor shall I ever forgive our mother, Eve, for bringing this upon us all.”

Signy sat down again and smiled. “Your child shall come soon enough.”

Looking at the bowl of chicken and vegetable soup set before her, Gytha dipped her spoon to take a sip, then set it down and sighed. “Without Sister Anne to assist, my husband will be terrified.”

“And you?” Signy reached out and squeezed her friend’s arm.

“I fear this less than he, although birthing is a perilous time. Even if I do not have Sister Anne in attendance, I will have you to support me, and the comfort of your gift of the jet cup. Surely Sister Oliva, whom our beloved nun is training, will be a good midwife.” She watched the fragrant steam rise from her bowl for a long moment. “Should I die, Signy, take care of Ralf and Sibley. And if I can bear a living babe before my death, will you…”

“I swear all of that, but I have prayed much to God and am confident that He has no wish that you suffer more than any woman must in birth.” Signy grasped her friend’s hands and held them tight as if she could keep Death from Gytha’s side by sheer force of will. “You served Prioress Eleanor well before you married. Ralf, for all his faults, honors our prioress and serves justice fairly. God has grounds to bless you with a safe delivery and a healthy child.”

“Ralf’s last wife did not deserve her death.”

“We do not know what cause God might have had for allowing that sorrow. After my prayers on your behalf last night, I rose to my feet with a heart lightened of fear. I take that to be a sign that those pleas have been heard with favor by Him.”

Her tension dissipating, Gytha decided that God was most likely to listen to Signy, a woman of quiet charity and honorable spirit. “You have given me courage,” the young wife said.

Signy released her iron grip on Gytha’s hands, and the two women smiled at each other with deep affection.

Resting her chin on her hand, the innkeeper said, “Although I do not wish to ask too much of God, do you think this babe might be the son both Ralf and his brother desire?”

“I have no doubt of it,” Gytha said with a laugh. “He kicks like one of my brother’s donkeys, refuses to be born until he wishes it, and, I fear, will have a ravenous appetite like his father when I put him to my breast. This is no trembling daughter of Eve that I carry, but one who thinks he is the master of the world around him.”

“From that description, I believe you will most certainly give birth to a Norman son in the image of his father’s kin,” Signy said with dutiful solemnity.

Gytha sat as close to the table as she could. “But Ralf is distraught, as am I, over the injustice bestowed on our beloved Sister Anne.”

“Has he found anything to help prove her innocence?”

“Nothing except his knowledge that she would never kill the clerk.”

“So her version of events cannot be proven.”

“Nor disproved. The other clerk says a certain Brother Imbert brought the remedy and gave instructions for its use. Sister Anne says Father Davoir sent a clerk, whose face she could not see. The brother named is not one of our priory’s religious, lay or choir, nor has he ever been.”

“Then the clerk’s story truly cannot be proven any more than hers.” Signy shrugged. “Sister Anne cannot be condemned on such thin evidence.”

“But who had motive? The priest believes that our sub-infirmarian killed the clerk out of spite because her request to question and treat the lad was denied. The worst accusation is that Prioress Eleanor ordered her to kill the clerk, frighten the priest, and make him flee before he discovered the evils hidden in the priory.”

“What wickedness?” Signy snorted. “The mill does not make a profit?”

Gytha smiled but quickly moved away from that subject lest she be asked for more detail. “Ralf cannot find a reason for anyone to kill the clerk.”

After gazing over her shoulder and around the inn, Signy cupped her hands around her mouth to further muffle her softly spoken question. “Did Ralf not mention a man named
Conan
?”

Gytha thought for a moment, and then shook her head.

“He is the captain of the guard that brought Father Etienne and his group of clerks from the port. When Ralf was last here, he approached your husband for company, or so he said, and seemed quite curious about the priory and village.”

“He did mention that but not the man’s name. I told my husband that any stranger might look for amusement and ask about the village and priory. I saw nothing odd about the questioning, but my husband was troubled.”

Signy nodded. “After Conan left his table, Ralf asked me if anyone had told the captain that he was the crowner here, for the man had called him by the title. I had not and, when I questioned the serving maids, I learned that none of them had either, nor had they seen him asking any of the other townsmen. Indeed, this Conan is a solitary man and habitually sits apart from the usual customers and even his own soldiers. Do you not think it odd that such a man would seek your husband’s companionship? ”

“Is he here now?”

Signy subtly indicated a man sitting alone in the far corner of the inn near the entrance.

“A soldier, from the scars I can even see,” Gytha said. “As my husband has told me, a man accustomed to battle does not sit apart from his men if he has shared the company of Death with them. He may lead them, but he eats what they eat and endures the same hardships. I do not understand why he remains aloof, and Ralf may not have noticed this.”

“Then tell your husband that I find Conan odd as well. He does not spend the night in his bed either. Since I live near my inn, I can see the entrance and have witnessed him slipping away after I have gone to seek my own rest.”

“In which direction?”

“Night swallows his shadow before I have had a chance to see if he walks toward the priory or simply into the village.”

“A woman?”

Signy chuckled. “There is a serving maid here whom I saw flirting with him. When I questioned her, she confessed that the coin he flashed to pay for extra ale had tempted her to find out if he might tuck another into her hand for lying with him, despite his terrible face, but he has done no more than smile at her.”

“She is fortunate he did not take her to the hayloft. You do not countenance whoring.”

“As she well knows! She already has one babe born after accepting a pretty coin. I reminded her of this.” Signy shook her head. “But I fear there may be many babes born after these men leave. I see their eyes following any woman they see and know that they will seek bedmates because they have nothing else to do.”

Gytha wondered if any had dared approach her friend, then decided that few would try. She had seen the look Signy gave those so bold. Castration might be less painful. “Ralf told him that the inn did not allow whoring, and he seemed to accept it. To have so quickly found a woman from the village willing to lie with him seems unlikely.”

“The cause of this man’s strange habit may prove to be dreams of war that drive away sleep.” Signy looked pensive. “That is the most harmless conclusion. In truth, I do not like the man and trust him less.”

“You say he leaves the inn every night?” Gytha thought for a moment. “’Tis a pity we cannot have him followed. It might be helpful to know what he does.”

“Your husband’s sergeant?”

“He is some distance away, helping Tostig build a shelter for my brother’s new flock of sheep.”

Signy frowned in thought, and then looked up with a grin. “My Nute is small enough to go after this man for just long enough to see where he goes. If fortunate, we may even learn why the guard captain leaves every night.”

“Would that be safe? What if this Conan is an evil man?” Gytha reached around and rubbed her back. “Or fears the discovery of some secret and would do harm to protect it?”

“Your husband has taught my lad how to stalk animals in the hunt, and he can take his slingshot with him as protection. I will explain that all we need know is where Conan goes and perhaps why. Nute is sensible and will not seek further if I explain there might be unnecessary danger and I forbid him to do so. If the crowner supports my cautioning, he will listen.” She smiled. “He would do anything for your husband and will be overjoyed to learn he is helping Ralf out.”

“Tonight then?”

Signy nodded.

“I will tell Ralf as soon as I see him.” Gytha struggled to drag herself to her feet. She did not need to see her feet to know her ankles were swollen. “I do wish this child would decide he is curious to see the world.”

Signy put her arm around her friend as they walked to the door.

Neither noticed that Conan had been watching them.

Chapter Twenty

The night air was as soft as a lover’s kiss, but Nute was not yet old enough to know of these things and instead stood trembling in the shadows. Touching the sling tucked into his belt, he gained confidence and was determined to make Crowner Ralf proud of him before this night was over. He held that thought close to his heart, and it warmed him a little.

Stalking a man would surely prove to be little different from hunting game for the table, he thought, and threw his thin shoulders back. But a man was far larger than a rabbit and much more dangerous. Casting that thought from his mind, he hardened his resolve and waited.

It did not take long for the man to emerge from the inn. Despite the darkness, Nute knew he was the one to follow. His foster mother had made sure he served the man his ale and pie at supper so he could study the soldier’s shape. With no moon, Nute could not see the deep scars across the guard captain’s face, but this man’s walk and build matched the one the boy had been waiting for.

Although Conan was not tall, he walked at a pace that forced Nute to run. Fortunately, the road out of the village toward the priory was one the lad knew well or he might have tripped in the ruts and injured himself. That the man he followed did not know the road yet walked swiftly and with self-assurance astonished the boy. Perhaps he was one of those who saw well in diminished light. Some men did and were better soldiers for it.

When Conan reached the mill entrance gate to the priory, he hesitated, pressed himself against the stone wall, and peered around.

Nute rushed into the shrubbery by the road side as quietly as possible and felt certain that he remained undetected, even if the captain was sharp-eyed in the night. He held his breath.

Conan slowly opened the gate and disappeared inside.

Creeping up to the entrance, Nute peered around the gate.

Suddenly, the thick clouds above slipped aside to reveal a full moon.

Nute groaned. With the cloak of darkness lost, he would not find it easy to follow anyone on that open path to the mill. He forcefully reminded himself that the crowner had entrusted him with a man’s job this night. Clenching his teeth, he swore he would not disappoint Ralf.

He looked down and gripped the sling for courage, then entered the priory.

Once inside, Nute noticed that Conan had slowed his pace. The man looked neither right nor left but seemed intent on getting to some planned destination. The boy tried to keep his step light so the soldier would not hear the distinctive crunch of gravel behind him.

Other than the cries of scurrying night creatures, the rhythmic thump of the mill wheel, and the soft whisper of a gentle wind brushing through the trees, Tyndal Priory was quiet. The evening prayer done, the religious were asleep, although it would not be many more hours before they rose to greet the morning with orisons. Other than the moon, the only light came from the hospital where lay brothers remained awake and carried flickering candles as they tended the sick and dying. In that moment, the priory seemed as devoid of iniquity as Eden.

Suddenly, Conan veered off the path and down into the clearing where the bees dozed in their woven skeps.

There was no place for Nute to hide. Falling to the ground, he wiggled into deep grass and hoped that it would hide him well enough. A sudden chill wind blew across his back. He tensed and willed himself not to shiver.

Cautiously lifting his head, he saw a shadow crossing the bridge over the branch of the stream that ran alongside the guest quarters. At this distance, Nute could not say whether the shape was a man or a woman, but the figure was moving quickly in this direction.

Trembling more from fear than any cold, he desperately tried to control his breathing so no one could hear him. To his own ears, each breath sounded like a drum beat.

Nute waited.

The shadow turned down the path leading to the main gate and hospital, merged into the darkness, and disappeared.

Conan reemerged on the path and began to run to the bridge.

Nute jumped to his feet and tried to keep up. In his ears, he could hear his foster mother cautioning him not to take chances. It was a warning echoed by the crowner when he agreed to let Nute follow Conan.

He slowed his pace. Was it enough to have seen this man entering the priory? Dare he follow him further?

The choice was a hard one, and he had little time to make it. Finally, he stopped, asking himself what would be most helpful to the crowner while also keeping his word not to be foolish. “I must learn exactly where the soldier is going,” he muttered and continued to follow but at a safe distance.

Conan crossed the bridge and hurried to the guest quarters.

Halfway across the bridge, Nute halted and watched the man open the gate and slip into the courtyard leading to Davoir’s chambers.

Nute knew he should go no further. If he followed the man into the quarters, he would probably be caught. How could he explain why he was following the soldier? And even if he succeeded in hiding, would he be able to see anything of significance should the soldier enter the priest’s chambers? That was one place Nute most certainly dare not go.

On one hand, the boy longed to prove his courage. On the other, he feared breaking an oath he had been required to make while touching the crowner’s sword hilt. Even if he was willing to disobey his foster mother and Ralf, Nute knew he could not defy God.

Spinning around, the boy fled back to the inn where Signy and Crowner Ralf waited for his report.