Satan's Lullaby (9 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Davoir looked at Conan with contempt. “Why should I fear for the safety of my clerks or myself when the one who killed Jean is imprisoned?”

“She has not yet been found guilty, Father.” The pale light from the window only deepened the furrows and ridges of the captain’s scars.

“She shall be! If I can keep Prioress Eleanor and Brother Thomas away from the investigation into her guilt, the verdict against the nun will be fair and untainted. If necessary, I will insist the sub-infirmarian be taken from their undue influence to Fontevraud Abbey where my sister can render an objective judgement.”

A peculiar light flickered in Conan’s eyes. “You believe there is that much wickedness in this place consecrated to God? If you are so uneasy about the role of Satan in the priory, you should welcome my suggestion that I examine the security of these quarters.”

Davoir laughed. “You think your sword is strong enough to keep the Devil at bay? Who taught you about faith, soldier? It was no priest.”

Conan’s face became spotted as if he had a pox, but he said nothing.

“Father, may I express some thoughts in this matter?”

Sighing, the priest turned to his pale-faced clerk but barely hid his annoyance. “You have my permission, Renaud, but keep your speech brief.”

“The captain and his men have protected us from the moment we set foot in England. On the way here, no bandits attacked us. No harm came to us.” He waved his hand. “Other than that matter about the dead guard, but he was not of our…”

“Our safety was their purpose, my son.” The priest’s voice was rough with impatience. “Your meaning, if you please.”

“If Sister Anne has wicked friends in this priory, and the leadership is directed by the Prince of Darkness, might there not be other liegemen of the Evil One who wish you ill? If the poisoning of Jean was a failed attempt to frighten you away before uncovering the inequities here, another imp might try a direct attack since your resolve has not weakened.”

Davoir looked surprised. “You speak well, Renaud.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“I may have always found Jean superior to you in learning, perception, and quickness of analysis, but this concern for my well-being and your reasons for same are well-expressed and well-considered.”

Renaud’s face flushed with joy.

Conan stood as still as a statue in a church.

Davoir flicked a hand at the man. “Very well, Captain, tell me what you propose.”

“Perhaps your clerk will take me around the guest quarters so I might examine the various entrances to your chambers. Like a castle under siege, Father, those entrances should be guarded by a patrol for the duration of your stay here.”

“Guards in a house shielded by God? I will not permit armed men in this priory.”

“Prayer is useful, Father, but God has often shown that He approves of soldiers, depending on their intent,” Conan replied. “He did travel with those who took arms against the Infidel to regain Jerusalem.”

Shaking a finger at the captain, Davoir growled. “Do not preach to me or claim to know more than a priest about the reading of God’s holy will.”

For a moment, Conan looked like he might laugh. He bowed his head quickly.

“If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion, Father?” Renaud was wringing his hands.

Raising both eyebrows as if awed by a minor miracle, Davoir gave permission.

“We need not have armed men. If I show the captain around our quarters here, he can advise on the places where someone with wicked motives might enter. Day should not be as difficult a time to keep watch. Perhaps one clerk might walk around the buildings, but I could assign several clerks to do so at night.” He puffed out his thin chest. “I would take over for the weariest clerks. Our prayers will be our swords.”

A brisk knock at the door interrupted his argument. Renaud rushed to open it.

Gracia stood outside with hands meekly folded and head bowed.

“What do you want?” Davoir barked at her.

She stepped back, visibly trembling.

“Speak! I do not have all day.”

“Crowner Ralf asks permission to question Sister Anne, Father. He wants one of your clerks with him to witness the procedure. If you approve, he asks that this clerk record the meeting so there can be no doubt of fairness or propriety.” She pronounced each word like a child repeating a memorized passage.

Davoir opened his mouth, then rethought what he was about to say. “His proposal is fair. I shall allow it. Tell him to meet me here before the next Office.” He glanced at Renaud. “Surely you and the captain will have finished by then.”

Renaud flushed and looked at Conan.

The captain nodded.

Gracia fidgeted in the doorway.

Davoir glared at her. “Go! Tell the crowner of my decision.”

As directed, Gracia fled.

“Annoying girl,” Davoir muttered. “Having such a witless child as a maid does not reflect well on Prioress Eleanor’s judgement. She ought to have chosen a lay sister or even a nun of more mature years.” He shook his head. “Shut the door and get on with your plan,” he said to Renaud. “You will also record the meeting between the king’s man and this vicious nun.”

***

As Conan and Renaud walked around the guest quarters, Renaud said to the captain in a low voice, “I agree with your fears and plan, Captain, even if Father Etienne does not. He may be close to God’s ear, as well as that of our king’s brother, but he often forgets that evil men do not respect the armor of prayer and do violence against the virtuous. I fear for his safety.”

Conan nodded, then pointed out a window which was just big enough to allow a small person to climb through. “Your eyes are red with weeping,” the captain said as they continued on. “You and the dead clerk must have been friends.”

“We were as boys, Captain, but Jean rose above me in so many things. Father Etienne saw his quick intellect and deep understanding of godly matters. He promised him a fine benefice or the position of secretary to a man of high ecclesiastical rank. Jean served him with great love and devotion. Rarely was he absent from Father Etienne’s side.”

Conan turned and studied the clerk for a moment. “And now you stand in that place of honor.”

Renaud flushed. “Do you think so? I am not sure. Father Etienne often criticized my writing and my ability to both learn and reason. My Latin is faulty as well.”

“I am only a rough soldier, clerk, but I think you misjudge his respect for you. Did you not hear his praise for you today?”

Renaud modestly lowered his gaze and walked on.

The captain followed, his expression a mix of pity and amusement.

As they circled the quarters, Renaud began to indicate other low windows and one door.

Conan said little more until they reached the main entrance to the priest’s quarters.

“I see the crowner coming,” Renaud said with a nervous quiver in his voice. “I must leave you and accompany him to the sub-infirmarian’s cell.”

“I will not keep you, clerk. Since I cannot send my men to protect your priest, you and some of the other clerks should patrol during the night. You know the dangerous entrance areas. If you see anything untoward, call out. Make a great noise. Awaken those who sleep. That should be enough to frighten off any man who wishes your master ill. If it does not, the shouting will bring help. Not all the lay brothers in this place are corrupt. And send word to me at the inn. Your master may not want armed men on holy ground, but we will come quickly if nothing else deters the wicked.”

Pleased, Renaud thanked the captain for the confidence he had shown in him.

“One thing more, lad,” the captain said, “I would take the darkest part of the night patrol yourself and alone. Perhaps between the last Office and the rising sun. Let the other clerks sleep. You know the perils best and what signs to look for. I think that deed will please your priest.” He winked.

Renaud glowed with hope and promised Conan he would do as suggested. “It is my joy to serve my master and take the greater responsibility on myself,” he said.

“Go meet the crowner,” Conan replied.

Renaud smiled and left.

Slipping around the quarters to another path, Conan found the way to the mill and carefully avoided the king’s man. He had accomplished what he desired and had no wish for any conversation with Crowner Ralf.

Chapter Eighteen

Seeing those gathered in her chambers, Eleanor struggled with envy, the child of her thwarted longing for action. Unable to participate in the investigation into the clerk’s death, she sat in these rooms, surrounded by accounting rolls, left only with the right to pray for justice. This galled her. As a consequence, she feared she spent too much time beseeching God for patience when she should be begging mercy for a long list of tormented souls in Purgatory.

As she glanced at Gracia, Ralf, and Thomas, she smiled with forced calm. I must stop whining and use what is left to me, she decided. If I am banned from the inquiry, I most certainly can direct others to do what I dare not. Do I not have the wits to circumvent these restrictions? She sat just a little straighter with renewed purpose, eager to hear what they had discovered.

“Ale for all,” Eleanor said. “Then let us discuss what we know and must do next.”

Gracia hurriedly served each, then ran to her place by the chamber door.

Ralf grinned at the girl. “Thanks to your maid’s forewarning,” the crowner said, “Sister Anne was very precise in her replies. Most of what she said was a repetition of her prior testimony as you described it, but she very carefully went over what Prior Andrew had observed and gave well-considered conclusions.” He drank from his mazer with obvious enjoyment.

Eleanor briefly wondered if the priory’s ale brewer ever gave the crowner and his wife the occasional gift of the beverage. Ale was considered calming for a pregnant woman, although she thought Ralf might need it more than Gytha when the time came for the birthing.

“I had already talked with the prior about what he had seen,” Ralf said. “The details were the same as those reported by Sister Anne. Then I confirmed all with Brother Thomas.”

The monk concurred.

“The clerk, Jean, had no fever, and his symptoms were no different from anyone else who has had too much to drink the night before.” The crowner laughed. “I know the signs well myself.” He blushed and looked away. “Or did before my marriage.”

“Did our sub-infirmarian know that the lad had not improved with the treatment she sent with this unidentified clerk?”

“No, but she was uneasy when she heard nothing. She knew she was not welcome at the guest quarters but did send a lay brother to offer advice or answer questions. He was refused admittance, told that all the clerks were busy with the investigation of the priory, and promised his message would be relayed.” Ralf shrugged. “I talked with the French servant who guards the priest’s gate. He didn’t welcome my questions, but a coin with an English king’s head serves as well as one engraved
PHILIPVS REX
. After payment for his time, he confirmed that a lay brother had come from the hospital and was sent away with the excuse reported.”

Eleanor waited, then asked, “To whom did this man give the message?”

“He gave it to one of the clerks but could not recall which one.” Ralf scowled.

Brother Thomas turned to his friend. “Might the man’s testimony be suspect? You paid him for the truth. Someone else might have paid him more to lie to you.”

For a long moment, Ralf stared at the wooden crossbeams in the ceiling. “It matters not if he was asked to lie about the clerk to whom he gave the message. It only matters that his story about the hospital lay brother confirms that of Sister Anne.”

“Now we have evidence that Sister Anne acted responsibly within the limits imposed upon her by the priest.” Eleanor gestured for Gracia to refill the mazers. “You also spoke with the lay brother who went to the priest with her message?”

Ralf nodded.

Putting down the pitcher and almost dancing with enthusiasm, the maid turned to her mistress.

Eleanor smiled. “Do you have something to add, Gracia?” How like a child and yet how unlike one, the prioress thought. She never knew which aspect of the maid would manifest itself.

“While the crowner was questioning Sister Anne, the clerk, Renaud, was very displeased when she offered an analysis of the cause of death.”

“Was he now?” Eleanor folded her arms.

“Until that moment, he had remained silent and busy writing down the testimony,” the girl added.

“Well noted,” Ralf said. “Sister Anne had had time to think about the presence of autumn crocus in the clerk’s room. From what she was able to learn about the symptoms, and what I told her about the corpse, she is convinced that Jean was poisoned with it. There are other lethal herbs that exhibit similar symptoms and cause death in the same number of days, but she saw no reason to think another method had been used when the autumn crocus was inexplicably found at the bedside. Once again, she confirmed that she had sent only chamomile and ginger with the elusive, hooded clerk. When she said that, Renaud stopped writing and insisted that she was lying.”

Gracia enthusiastically nodded.

“He demanded that her opinion be deleted from his record for he believed it was only an attempt to hide either her murderous intent or her incompetence and carelessness.” The crowner snorted. “Careless? Incompetent? Ignorant whelp!”

Knowing Ralf had more to say, Eleanor said nothing, raised an eyebrow, and waited.

The crowner leaned forward to continue. “I asked him what experience he brought to the matter of solving crimes. He confessed he had none as such, but he was knowledgeable in debate over higher matters pertaining to Heaven. I told him to use those skills when he took vows and let me deal with more worldly problems. I am crowner here. Heaven may be the Church’s realm, but murder is mine.”

Eleanor laughed.

“That did silence him,” Gracia said, her eyes twinkling.

Ralf’s eyes shifted to look at a fat loaf of bread, fresh from Sister Matilda’s oven and sitting on the nearby table.

“What was your opinion after you heard Sister Anne’s answers to your questions, Ralf?” Eleanor tilted her head toward the crusty bread, smiled at her maid, and looked back at the crowner.

Gracia brought the warm loaf to the crowner, who eagerly tore off a large piece and gave the maid a wide smile.

Chomping down on his fistful of bread, the crowner continued. “When have I ever doubted Sister Anne’s conclusions in these matters? She had no doubt that it was murder. Neither do I. The problem is how to convince that thick-skulled priest…” He turned aside and coughed in an effort to keep from insulting the other representatives of God in the room whom he considered friends.

Eleanor covered her mouth to hide her amusement.

“The use of autumn crocus as a treatment for gout is not widely known, but Sister Anne said its use as a poison has been recognized for centuries. What she did not understand was how it got to the clerk’s room. When I told her that the remedy had disappeared from the chest in the apothecary hut, she was horrified.”

“Nor was Renaud pleased when he heard this, my lady,” Gracia added.

“Why do you say that?” Ralf looked with curiosity at this maid. “I did not see anything to suggest such a reaction, nor did he voice any concerns.”

“Did you not smell him, my lord?” Gracia wrinkled her nose. “He stank of fear.”

Ralf eyes widened in surprise. Although he was an observant man, body odor was not something to which he paid much attention, other than the flowery scent his wife gave off when he held her. Knowing he had flushed with the thought, he lowered his head and muttered, “No, child, but then I was concentrating on what Sister Anne was saying.” He glanced up at the prioress.

“You are keen,” Eleanor said to the girl. “What else did you notice about the clerk?”

“He twitched a lot as soon as Sister Anne began discussing the effects of autumn crocus. The more she explained, the more his face lost color.” She paused, then noticed the crowner seemed eager for her to continue. “When you finished questioning our sub-infirmarian, and he began packing up his writing instruments, I think I saw him weeping. I am not certain about that, but I would swear his cheeks glistened in the candlelight.”

“His tears are consistent with his grief over the death of his fellow clerk.” Eleanor shook her head. “His protest that her conclusions were as faulty as her cure might have been a loyal repetition of his master’s own assumption. What I do not understand is why he showed fear, not bewilderment or even anger, over the theft of the autumn crocus. Does he know who Brother Imbert is, or is he afraid he knows who is involved in this death, someone he wishes were not?”

“We have never asked him for the name of the person who administered the remedy to Jean. Was Renaud really the one to give Jean the medicine? Perhaps he is taking the blame, for reasons he has not told anyone, when he truly had no part at all in his companion’s death,” Thomas said.

“So many questions,” Eleanor said. “We have yet to identify this Brother Imbert. Renaud must be questioned further. I suspect he does know far more than he has said. Maybe Father Etienne ordered the lad to keep silent.”

The three were briefly interrupted when a lay sister brought a tray from the kitchen.

Ralf’s eyes widened in delight when he saw Sister Matilda’s vegetable pie.

Gracia served the company but gave the crowner an especially large slice.

Ralf took an equally huge bite, then continued. “I would like to hear your opinion,” he said to Eleanor. “Is it possible that the priest had a hand in this death?”

The prioress was relieved to see her friend’s legendary appetite had returned. “I doubt it, Crowner,” she replied, her expression grown serious. “I believe Father Etienne is devoted to his family honor and to his sister, our abbess. He left the French court to investigate our priory with the sole purpose of protecting her reputation in Rome, and I am certain he intended to resolve the accusation hurled at us in a manner that would give the most credit to the Davoir name. An untoward death in one of Abbess Isabeau’s daughter houses is scandalous and only sullies her reputation further. In addition, why would he kill his own clerk, especially one he favored?” She looked down at her uneaten food, then gestured for her maid to take it away. “No, Ralf, I do not believe he is a killer.”

“Yet he has no love for our Order, my lady.” Gracia had that solemn look the young often do when allowed to speak freely in the company of adults.

But Eleanor was most taken by the girl calling the Order of Fontevraud
our Order
. Although she would never force Gracia to take vows, she was touched by these hints of fondness for the priory and its rules. “He may not approve of women ruling men, but Rome has sanctioned the Order and his sister has been placed in charge of it, a high honor for a noble family. With these circumstances, he will set aside his personal opinion for the authorized one.”

“Then I should question Renaud further,” Ralf said.

The prioress nodded. “Have you spoken to the guard captain about the death on the journey here?”

“Not yet, my lady, but he is staying at the inn, and I shall delay no further.”

“Did you ask our sub-infirmarian if the container she saw was the same one stolen from her apothecary?”

“I did not,” Ralf replied.

“I would like to see that container in which the autumn crocus was held.” Eleanor stopped and shook her head with annoyance. “Someone else must do that. I cannot, nor should I chance the discovery that it was brought to me in secret.”

“I could slip into the room, look, and describe it to you and to Sister Anne!” Zeal for the game glowed in Gracia’s eyes.

“I shall not ask that of you,” Eleanor replied. “Searching through Jean’s room without clear purpose would endanger the safety of my best spy.”

Initially disappointed, Gracia frowned at first, then her smile indicated she had chosen to be content with the intended compliment.

“Ralf, you may ask to see it,” Eleanor said. “Look at it well, and we shall get the description to Sister Anne.” Gesturing to her maid, she smiled. “Since you take her meals to the cell, you can whisper the description in her ear, and she can tell us if it is the original container or if there is something noteworthy about it. My hope may be slim, but if the jar comes from the hospital, that may suggest the man named Brother Imbert stole it. If it is not, the owner of the jar might be found or suggest the identity of the killer.”

The girl eagerly agreed.

“I shall insist on examining the dead clerk’s room,” the crowner said. “Davoir can threaten hellfire on me all he wants. I shall remind him that no detail should be overlooked, for I wish to protect his sister’s reputation just as much as he.” He grinned at the prioress. “I promise to be more subtle than that, but he will be made to believe that I wish him no ill.”

“And question Renaud.”

“That too. I can tell him I want to go over his written report. In so doing, I can pose questions. When he grows uneasy, I shall press him on it.”

“At last I feel more confident that we will resolve this crime without giving Father Etienne cause to cast the discoveries aside,” Eleanor said.

“You have every reason to hope, my lady,” Gracia said, then pointed to Ralf and herself. “You have us.”