Satan's Lullaby (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-nine

Father Davoir sat in silence.

Although Brother Thomas and Crowner Ralf remained, the two nuns had left the chambers.

Prioress Eleanor waited.

Gracia stood by the door, her eyes wide with curiosity. As she looked from priest to her mistress and back again, her shifting gaze was the only motion in the deceptively still room.

At last the priest spoke. “I am a judicious man, Prioress Eleanor. I did not come to Tyndal with an ardent desire to find you guilty of the charge against you. I wished to gather all the facts and dispassionately establish the truth based on reasoned judgement.”

Reasoned judgement? Eleanor bit her lip. When he suggested she might have ordered the death of the clerk, he most certainly was not basing his decision on facts. When he ordered Sister Anne thrust into that cell, he did so out of anger and grief, not logic. The effort not to admonish him was almost more than she could bear.

But then she heard a low growl from Crowner Ralf and knew it was her responsibility to remain calm and keep this meeting civil. It did not matter whether she liked this priest or not, he was the brother of her abbess and a man of great influence in the French court.

If she said what she wished, she could endanger far more than the release of Sister Anne in time to help at Gytha’s birthing and the conclusion that she and Brother Thomas were irrefutably innocent of the charge against them. Were she rash, the consequences of her actions might well nip at the pride of kings. The past was littered with corpses slaughtered in battles waged for lesser insults than what an English baron’s daughter and prioress might inflict on a French religious whose head would soon wear a bishop’s miter.

With effort, Eleanor’s smile successfully conveyed the expected appreciation in response to Davoir’s words.

“But when my clerk was killed and the only cause seemed to be the medicine sent by your sub-infirmarian, I had reason to suspect that she was either incompetent or had tried to protect you out of some benighted hope that I would be frightened away or perhaps less inclined to find you guilty of the charges against you.” He raised his hands to suggest how obvious his conclusion must have been.

Eleanor nodded. Her neck ached from the effort to do so politely.

“Now I fear that someone wishes me ill and the attack against Renaud suggests that the death of Jean might not be solely due to your sub-infirmarian’s incompetence.”

Eleanor could understand why someone might want to wring this priest’s neck. “Indeed,” she said.

“I might still be inclined to suspect you had a hand in this, considering the seriousness of the allegations against you…”

Ralf stepped forward.

“Peace, Crowner,” the prioress whispered.

“…but the words of your sub-prioress made me pause in thought. She had no love for you after your king sent you to replace her, a woman so respected by the religious of this house that she was duly elected to succeed the former prioress. Her great resentment is a sin, but, for once, truth was strengthened by her human wickedness.” He smiled. “Her testimony on your behalf was powerful.”

Eleanor smiled back. “I shall long remember that insight, Father.”

For a moment, he said nothing and sat watching her with a preoccupied look. Then his brow smoothed, and he waved one hand in a gesture of surrender. “I have erred in suspecting you of complicity in murder,” he said, “and your sub-prioress has convinced me that you are innocent of the charges laid against you.”

“Although Sister Ruth is an honorable woman and strives to speak with honesty under all circumstances, I would not want you to take the word of only one member of our community, Father. I hope you will question others here as well.”

“I have.”

Of course, you have, Eleanor thought, but in this one instance I am glad you did pursue your investigation beyond all good sense. “And have you found support or condemnation? I do not ask for the names of those who gave witness to either.”

“Nothing but praise,” he replied. “Some have called you
blessed.
”

“Which I am not,” she quickly replied with a modest bow of her head, “being a frail mortal and a lowly daughter of Eve.” Seeing he was about to say more, she decided she must control the conversation until he had admitted all she wished in front of Crowner Ralf, the one presumed impartial witness. “I am sure you found none who had any criticism of Brother Thomas.” She was tempted to smile up at the monk but deemed it unwise lest her gesture be misinterpreted.

“Again, I heard only acclaim. Some have even said he most resembles the founder of this Order in the strength of his virtue.” Davoir looked briefly at the monk, his expression suggesting that he had found this discovery regrettable.

Brother Thomas followed the example of his prioress and lowered his gaze in silent humility.

“May I speak, my lady?”

Crowner Ralf rarely sounded so meek. Had the circumstances been different, Eleanor might have teased him. Instead, she gravely gave consent to his request. Looking at his eyes, she saw them glittering with fury, although his demeanor otherwise suggested calm. Taking a deep breath, she decided she must trust him not to decapitate the priest in front of her.

“The leader of the soldiers, who provided you with protection on the journey here, believes you are in danger. I concur. You now agree.”

The priest clenched his jaw as if preparing for a test of wills.

“Since you have found Prioress Eleanor and Brother Thomas innocent of the foul lies leveled against them, I pray that you will allow them to join the captain and me in keeping you safe within the priory walls. In doing so, I believe we also have the opportunity to capture the miscreant who killed your beloved clerk, something for which you must deeply long.”

Davoir said nothing, tapped his chin, and turned his gaze to a fat fly resting on the table nearby.

“Modesty prevents Prioress Eleanor and Brother Thomas from saying this,” Ralf continued, “but they are both well-known in our land for their ability to bring evil men to justice.” With a reverent expression and an unusual acknowledgement to God, the crowner looked heavenward. “Only those in His favor could do as well as these two in rendering His justice when we more flawed mortals fail.”

Ralf lowered his gaze and shut his eyes so no one could read his thoughts, but Eleanor noted that he had blood on his lip from biting it. Although the crowner had long been a friend, and was the husband of her cherished Gytha, she suddenly loved him even more, knowing the effort it took for him not to rage against this man who had insulted his friends and put his wife in mortal danger with his arrogant blindness.

Davoir seemed oblivious to all the details and problems involved in finding the cause of the recent violence. The priest’s face betrayed his profound struggle to determine what he thought was best. He shifted the honor of his gaze from the fly to the rushes under his feet.

Think of your bishopric, Eleanor prayed, and do what is in your own interest to survive long enough to enjoy it. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to conclude that Davoir was not a truly evil man. The priest believed he had the gift of superior reason and thus his decisions must be beyond question. Yet if anyone was born unable to see beyond his nose, it was Father Etienne Davoir.

“You do think I am in danger of my life?” The priest continued to stare at the floor.

“We do,” Ralf replied.

“If I may speak, my lady?”

Eleanor was surprised that her monk had broken his silence, but she quickly nodded.

“In order to more swiftly decide who might wish you ill, Father, we must know if you have acquired any enemies, men so angry that they would wreak violence against you.” Brother Thomas’ tone was respectful.

“Any man, especially one who has found favor with mortals of great standing and God, acquires enemies.” Davoir glanced up, his expression revealing that he was perplexed by the question.

“As soon as you return to court, you will be elevated to a bishopric?” Thomas waited for the man to nod. “And you will carry your most talented clerks with you to higher rank as well, a well-known practice. When you arrived here, Jean and Renaud rode by your side, a position suggesting you held them in great favor.” He paused.

“All of this is well known. Please be brief.” Davoir glared at the monk as if Thomas were one of his clerks.

The monk ignored him. “Jean has been murdered. Renaud has been attacked. This violence suggests the culprit might bear a festering resentment against you. Perhaps he suffered some punishment you meted out or expected some favor you failed to grant. Are there any men who were once clerks but whom you sent away, or families who hoped you might accept a son into your service but for whom you found no position…?” His voice trailed off.

As Eleanor watched Davoir strive to put these elements together, she was grateful that her monk had asked the question. The priest would take that probing query better from him than from a woman, even if she was a prioress, or a man bound to secular law like Ralf.

Davoir frowned. “I have always made my decisions well-founded in logic.”

“Even if their conclusion was in error, who might have disagreed with you despite the aptness of your judgement?”

Not for the first time, Eleanor was proud of her monk’s calm.

“I am not in the habit of discharging clerks. My initial verdict on their suitability is rarely wrong, although I did choose one youth based on his father’s service to my family. That was a mistake, but the family has not yet been informed of his pending dismissal.” He thought a moment longer, and then raised one finger. “A few years ago, I had occasion to release one of my clerks. He was a promising lad from a respectable, albeit not titled, family. Sadly, he was found in a brothel and, when brought before me, confessed he spent much time there. I dismissed him.”

Thomas glanced at his prioress.

That means something to him, she thought and grew hopeful that he had discovered a clue.

Davoir sighed. “His family begged me to reconsider. I could not, of course, but promised to find him a living suitable for a penitent. It was in a poor parish, and he died months after of a fever, but none of us is exempt from death. Later, I heard that his brother blamed me for the youth’s fate and swore to take revenge, but nothing has ever come of these threats, perhaps because I rarely travel far from our king’s court.” He paled. “Until now.”

“It is possible that the brother may have followed you here. I spoke to a man who swore he was on pilgrimage from France to Canterbury, claims to have injured his ankle, and is in our hospital. I have no proof…”

Davoir turned to the crowner and roared, “You must arrest him!”

“We have nothing but a vague suspicion.” Ralf’s tone betrayed his anger at the very idea of complying with Davoir’s demand when the priest had also jailed Sister Anne with no evidence.

Eleanor winced at his ill-advised response.

Davoir jumped to his feet. “How dare you deny this request? I am in danger, a conclusion with which you all concur. You mention the logical suspect but now refuse to put him in irons.” He rudely jabbed his finger at the prioress. “Is this revenge because I did my duty as my sister required?”

“No, Father, but I think you would agree that capturing the man, with enough proof of ill intent to keep him in custody while we get a full confession, would serve all far better than arresting him on suspicion alone.” Eleanor tilted her head and glared at the priest, her patience at the snapping point.

“Without proof, he will be released.” Thomas smiled without humor. “And would probably try again to harm you at a later date.”

Defeated and frightened, Davoir sat back down with a thump. “I concur,” he muttered.

Eleanor realized she had been holding her breath.

“Let us plan a trap for him,” Thomas said.

“And release Sister Anne,” Ralf added. “Her innocence is proven.”

Slamming his hand down on the arm of the chair, Davoir shouted, “Not until there is as much proof of her innocence as you demand to establish the guilt of this alleged pilgrim! I am not yet convinced that she did not kill my clerk out of incompetence or malice.”

Ralf turned scarlet with outrage.

“Ralf, be calm,” Eleanor murmured. She knew the priest’s outburst was the cry of pain from a proud man who had been humiliated. A man, who believed himself almost godlike in judgement, had been publicly proven wrong several times since arriving at Tyndal. She chose to let Davoir have a small victory in exchange for his cooperation. “Let us plan the capture of the real killer and then our sub-infirmarian will be free. It is only a short time longer, and she is not suffering great deprivation.”

“If my wife…”

“If Gytha’s pains begin, I swear that she will have the comfort and skill needed for her travail.” And the prioress looked into the crowner’s eyes with a promise she prayed he could read well.

“Very well,” he snarled. “Now let us plan how to catch the real murderer.”

Chapter Thirty

The wind struck like a berserk warrior slashing through a band of enemy soldiers.

“It will be a cold winter,” Ralf growled, pulling his cloak tightly around his body.

“Sit closer to me, Crowner,” Conan replied. “The shrubbery is thick here.”

Hesitating a moment too long, Ralf moved only a fraction of an inch.

“You still do not trust me?”

The crowner was annoyed by Conan’s deep chuckle. “Have you given me good reason not to be suspicious?” Ralf waited for a response, but his companion said nothing. “A man friendly to Jean is murdered on the road to the priory. When the clerk dies soon after, anyone responsible for the king’s justice would find the circumstances troubling. You did offer an explanation I decided not to counter, but…” This time he let the sentence die in the chill air.

For a moment, the men said nothing, huddling to protect themselves as the wind grew in force and howled at them with primordial fury.

Just as quickly, it waned.

“True. Said clerk is murdered.” Conan’s teeth chattered.

“You suggest that an armed guard be set outside the priest’s door, a proposal you surely realized would be offensive to a man devoted to the peaceful worship of God.”

“And he was outraged. You claim I would have guessed as much, but I believed that the man had more sense than most of his vocation. I was mistaken.”

Ralf laughed. “Well said and I concur, but that does not mean I suspect you less of devious motives.” He rubbed at his nose which was dripping from the icy air. “After Davoir rejects your plan, Renaud offers a solution more acceptable to our priest, a godly resolution in which the clerks patrolled and offered prayers instead of carrying knives or cudgels.”

Conan snorted, then uttered a curse as the wind swirled around them once again. “Tonight, I would prefer that they be here, not us.” He looked over at the crowner. “If I thought it would help, I would even pray. But Heaven is supposed to be cooler than Hell, and I might choose Hell just to be warm again.”

“I confess a growing fondness for your wit, but I have known killers who entertained the crowds with fine jests before they were hanged.”

“Continue, Crowner. I shall save my breath to warm my hands.”

“You tell the clerk that he would please his master by taking the duty at the bleakest hour, one that was probably the most dangerous time.”

“I felt sorry for the lad. Davoir does not like him, and I wanted Renaud to do something that would please the man.”

“He does as you suggest and is struck down. At that time, you also just happened to be nearby.” Ralf wiggled stiff fingers at the captain to forestall a mordant reply.

“And I find him lying in the path outside the door to his master’s chambers and swiftly carry him to the hospital so his life might be saved. What troubles you about that, Crowner?”

“Explain why I should not conclude that you struck the clerk yourself, with force that was not quite lethal, and took him to the hospital to avoid any suspicion sticking to your untanned hide? Since Davoir refused an armed guard, you would be able to slip through the watch of half-asleep clerks who were not as eager as Renaud to prove himself to his master. Remove him, and you have access to your target.”

“Why even suggest Renaud patrol alone if I could have crept through a band of mewling clerks with greater ease? That conclusion was unworthy of you, Crowner! Instead, I propose to you that I might have come to the priory to watch for problems, knowing that the clerks might be fools, but still a company of fools. Renaud, by himself, would be a target, or at least a light enough guard that the culprit might be drawn out and caught by me. Is that not a more reasonable explanation for my actions?”

“I do not know you. Why should I trust any benevolent intent?”

Conon sighed. “You are making this very difficult, Crowner.”

“My purpose is not to make matters comfortable for these who commit murder.”

“You did not quarrel with me over the guard’s death at the inn.”

Ralf shrugged. “Since I do not have the time to confirm your tale about the man’s past crimes and you have complete authority over those under your command, I conceded.”

“If need be, I can give you a name, a man who will give you the proof you wish and one whom you will not doubt. Unless you arrest me, I see no need to do that. But, if you would assume for a moment that I am not lying about that incident, do you think I would do what was needed to protect Jean from harm then and kill him once he was here? Use logic, Crowner!”

Ralf bent closer. “If you have something to tell me that would relieve me of my suspicions, say it now.”

“I was told you were a good man, if a trifle blunt. A soldier’s soldier.”

“Stop prancing, cokenay! You are not a womanish courtier posing in a silly dance. We are talking about a hanging offense.”

Conan stiffened. “I might have killed another who said that to me.”

The wind whistled through the shrubbery in which they hid, mocking all their attempts to avoid it.

Shivering, the men glared at each other in silence.

“Very well, Crowner. You have won this toss. To continue the dice game is neither efficient nor necessary. I know you are a man of honor who keeps his word so the only price I ask for the truth is your silence.”

“Unless the silence puts me at odds with the law, you have my word.”

Conan pointed to the sword resting in front of him and swore on the hilt.

“Quickly. My ears grow numb.”

“You have heard that the accusations against Prioress Eleanor and her monk were made by a baron who quarreled with Sir Hugh and longed for retaliation. What no one here knows is that a man, who must remain nameless, learned early of this baron’s plan to attack the reputation of Sir Hugh’s sister and also achieve his old desire to have his own sister returned to the position she had lost.”

“Your meaning,” Ralf muttered.

Conan grinned and deliberately hesitated.

The crowner spat at the man, but the wind shifted direction and he rubbed his face dry in disgust.

“Our nameless man heard a rumor that this baron’s petty act of revenge might be used as a cover for a more dangerous purpose than a minor struggle for power between two noble families. He urged the king to provide protection for the party coming from France. I was ordered to lead the guard that would protect Abbess Isabeau’s brother and his herd of clerks during their entire journey in England.”

“Petty? Minor?” Ralf’s face was a shade of red brighter than could be blamed on the wind.

“Yes, Crowner, a trivial thing. There was no basis for the accusation, and the falsehood would swiftly become evident. A time-consuming, disturbing annoyance for Prioress Eleanor? Yes. More than that? No.”

The crowner grunted. “It has become more than that, but I agree with you in principle.” He nodded at Conan to continue.

“This same nameless man was afraid that the investigation ordered by Fontevraud Abbey might be used to create a deep rift between our king and Philip the Bold. If violence occurred on English soil against a man in high favor with the French king’s brother, bitterness and desire for retaliation might result. Neither king wants that, but the skin protecting pride within royal breasts is thin. I have said this before, but this is not my conclusion alone, Crowner. It comes from a man far more knowledgeable than I in matters of State.”

“Were you given any more specifics about this threat? The cause or names of those involved?”

“Neither the king nor his source said more, but the unnamed man is valued for his sources and loyalty to King Edward. Whether he knew the perpetrators or not, he would have responded to any threat of violence that might impact our king.”

“Continue.”

“My first concern was the inclusion of the now-dead guard whom I asked to be omitted from the company. As I told you, I was overruled. In my opinion, he became a threat to young Jean, but the guard died and relieved me of that apprehension. Once here, I came to the priory every night to make sure nothing untoward happened while all were sleeping. Sadly, the death of Jean by poison was unexpected. I failed in my duty.”

“The priest accused Sister Anne of incompetence or murder.”

“I did not believe that, Crowner. I was well-informed on those living within this priory. Since I did not know the clerks serving Davoir, however, I was pleased that they would all, except two, be housed with the monks. Watching for someone escaping the dormitory is easy. I could concentrate on looking for any other suspicious behavior.”

“Are you certain none of the clerks are involved in the murder or the attack?”

“The poisoning troubles me, Crowner. I have no idea how that happened. As for the attack on Renaud, I doubt it was another clerk.”

“Renaud claims to have seen the Jean’s ghost in the shadows, yet he was struck from behind. Two clerks might be involved.”

“I fear our lad sees the wandering damned when the branches of a shrub wave in the wind. It is a malady common amongst the religious—or so I have been told.”

“Why are you so convinced it is not another in Davoir’s company?”

“I saw someone hurrying over the bridge from the guest quarters and feared something had happened. I did not wait to see who it was but ran to the grounds, fearing injury to Davoir and cursing myself for being late. I was usually here earlier but was delayed because I suspected I had been followed and wanted to make sure no one was bent on killing me.”

“You were followed by our innkeeper’s foster son. She did not trust you either. When he saw you walk toward the guest chambers, he also saw the person coming across the bridge, and he ran back to the inn where I waited for his report.”

“Which explains why you came so quickly, Crowner. Does it ease your heart that I now no longer add you to my list of men who might be involved in this perilous matter?”

Ralf stared at him in disbelief, but then realized the captain had cause to wonder why he had been on the priory land at the same time. If Conan was truly sent by the king, he had as much reason to suspect him as Ralf had to distrust the guard captain.

“I did not see who attacked Renaud,” Conan said, “but I have seen a man lurking about on crutches. Once I noticed he was hiding in the bushes near the path to the guest quarters. The shadow that your young spy saw did not run toward the monk’s dormitory but toward the main gate or perhaps the hospital.”

“And what have you discovered about him?”

“Little enough. This hospital has several men on crutches. The lay brother told me there were many he could point out, and I had a poor description of him.” Conan frowned. “And if he were injured, I thought it unlikely that he would be an assassin. Perhaps he simply wanted a glimpse of a foreigner of such high rank.” He thought for a moment. “A man on crutches does not run as quickly as the escaping figure did.”

“One of your own soldiers?” Ralf asked the question because he knew he must, but he also recalled what Brother Thomas had said in the audience chamber about the man from France with the injured ankle. Should he mention that to Conan?

“Many of them I know, having fought by their sides. A few I did not, but I sat apart at the inn and watched those I had no grounds to trust. No one left the inn that I did not follow, but their paths all led to some woman’s bed.”

Before giving a reply, Ralf suddenly reached over, grabbed Conan’s arm, and pointed.

A shadow approached.

Ralf cautiously peeked through the shrub branches, then relaxed. “Greetings!” he shouted as the person drew near.

Renaud screamed.

“It is nothing, lad!” Ralf stood up as he called out. “We have no wish to harm you.”

The clerk fell to his knees and raised his hands heavenward.

“What is your purpose in coming here?” Conan picked up his sword, climbed out of the shrubbery, and walked over to the clerk. The blade of his weapon glittered in the moonlight.

Renaud’s mouth opened and shut but no sound came forth.

Conan grabbed him by his robe and dragged him to his feet. “Did the Devil castrate you?” He shook him gently. “If not, speak as a man ought.”

“I have brought an urgent message from Anjou.” The clerk squawked like a chicken.

Conan glared at him, then glanced over his shoulder at the crowner.

Ralf raised his hands, signifying that he saw no cause to question this.

“It is for my master,” Renaud added. His voice still trembled.

Conan let go of the clerk’s robe and gave him a slight shove. “Then go to him,” he said.

Freed, Renaud fled toward the entrance to the quarters.

As they watched the clerk disappear into his master’s chambers, Ralf walked over to join Conan. “Let us pray that Abbess Isabeau has learned that the accusation against Prioress Eleanor and Brother Thomas was fraudulent and has ordered her brother to return immediately to Anjou,” he said and then muttered, “which means that our prioress may release Sister Anne in time for my child’s birth.”

“I shall pray for your wife,” Conan replied.

Ralf looked surprised at this sudden display of piety.

The guard captain grinned, his teeth gleaming in the pale light. “With you as a husband, she needs God’s mercy.”

Ralf jabbed the man’s shoulder with his fist.

Each now satisfied of the other’s innocence, the two fell silent and waited for the expected killer.

The roaring wind from the north continued to slash with icy claws.

The subject of the pilgrim from France had been forgotten.