Chambers of Death (7 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Sir Reimund frowned when he saw a tiny nun walking toward him. Surely God had not suddenly dropped him into a convent’s cloister. Might she be a vision?

The creature now stood in front of him, hands modestly tucked into her sleeves. He shut his eyes, hoping the apparition would be gone when he looked again.

She was no vision.

He bowed.

A phantasm would have been preferable. He had dealt with evil often enough that the Devil himself might arrive for a friendly supper and he would be little bothered. But a nun? Solving a murder on a manor run by the Earl of Lincoln’s steward without setting either earl or steward against him was difficult enough. Now he had to get this Bride of Christ back to the chapel where she belonged without offending God.

Eleanor nodded her head in acknowledgement of his courtesy. “Forgive me, Sir Reimund, but I have heard that the Prince of Darkness has caused some wicked soul to commit murder in this place.”

“You did understand correctly, Sister, and thus I most ardently pray that you return to the chapel and beseech God for mercy. Your immediate intercession with Him shall give us the strength needed to find the perpetrator.”

“Pray, I most certainly shall. First, however, I must beg a favor.”

“If you want a gift for your convent, I will consider it amongst the other worthy requests I receive almost daily.” He stared down into the gray eyes looking up at him. “I will send a suitable person to the chapel later to hear you out on this.” He turned away, feeling oddly discomfited by her look.

“My request has nothing to do with gold or property.”

He squeezed his eyes shut against a deluge of frustration. “A most persistent member of her ilk,” he muttered under his breath. “God preserve me from that kind.”

“Sir Reimund…”

He spun around. “This is no place for a woman dedicated to God’s gentler service. I will have you escorted away immediately.” While seeking out one of his men to attend him, he gripped her arm as he might any common woman who had gotten in his way.

As if a lightning bolt had just coursed through her, Eleanor went rigid with shock.

Perhaps it was the stiffening of her arm that awoke him to the profanity of his act, but Sir Reimund suddenly froze, then painfully willed open each offending finger and stepped back.

Eyes blazing with fury, the prioress remained speechless.

Sweating despite the chill air, the sheriff looked around. A monk stood just beyond a circle of men. Sir Reimund sighed as if a sharp attack of indigestion had just eased. “Brother,” he called out in a voice tight with tension, “will you please lead this lost sister to a safer haven?”

Thomas looked at the woman in question. “If my lady wills it.”

“My lady?” Sir Reimund gazed around the courtyard. What woman of rank had just arrived? Then he looked down at the nun he had so offended, and, for the first time, noted the signet ring on her now exposed finger.

***

Watching apprehension blanch his face, Eleanor willfully allowed wicked pleasure to fill her soul. “I am Prioress Eleanor of Tyndal,” she said, “granted hospitality here when a member of my party fell too ill to travel farther in the storm.”

“I know of your father, my lady.” The sheriff’s cheeks now became mottled. “I hope I have not offended for such was never meant.” He stiffly bowed.

Eleanor answered his concern with an ambiguous inclination of her head and caught the mild curse he muttered under his breath. “The favor I ask is a simple thing. I did not wish to interrupt your work, but the poor dead body, lying there in the mud, cries out for pity. I beg your permission to have it borne to the chapel. If you and your men are finished examining the sad corpse for clues, will you not allow the mercy? It seems a cruelty to let the body lie there in public view as if it belonged to some common criminal.”

“Gladly.” He shouted for two men close by to approach. “These will carry the dead man away as you wish. In fact, there is little enough the body has to reveal. The method of killing is common enough amongst those of low rank, and I expect we shall have the murderer in custody before long.”

Which poor, and most probably innocent soul will you weigh down with chains, the prioress wondered, the thought chilling her. Mistress Maud seemed to have the true measure of this man. Although she had intended to tell him what she had witnessed from that window, doubts stopped all speech. The sheriff’s outrageous behavior to her, when he knew she was a religious but not her rank, suggested he had little regard for those he deemed of little merit. Would he not toss aside any information that threatened an easy solution and one that would offend no one of high station?

There was another concern that troubled her as well. With the death of King Henry, a shift in power at court was inevitable. There was no guarantee that her father’s former influence would continue under King Edward. If the winds were changing even before the new king’s return, and Sir Reimund was cognizant of the fresh direction, he might choose either to ignore her testimony or somehow use it for ill if he saw political advantage in doing just that.

Prudence suggested she delay giving her evidence until she was sure it would be used in a proper manner.

“You said you were staying here because a member of your party had fallen ill?”

Eleanor tensed. Sir Reimund‘s expression reminded her of the look in a feral creature’s eyes before it killed the prey. “One of my charges, a young woman from our priory who seeks advice on entering God’s service with us,” she replied uneasily.

“And does she mend?”

Why would this man suddenly show such interest in the health of a potential nun? Did he know her family? “She remains ill,” she said warily, “although there are hopeful signs of improvement.”

“Ah! That means you must remain here for some time. I shall have a man sent to guard you.”

“There is no need,” she protested. “I was accompanied by several men and am sure you will require the services of all yours.”

“Your safety is my responsibility while you are in this shire, my lady. If I did not assign one of mine to protect you, and you came to some grief, I would suffer well-deserved censure for my carelessness. The man I will select shall be discreet and respect your vocation, but he must remain nearby at all times until this foul killer is captured.”

She had been bested! Eleanor seethed. This man, who must spend time at court, had apparently learned more about her than her father’s position. Why had she not realized this? Her aunt had told her that her exploits against those in Satan’s thrall had reached many ears. Sir Reimund had obviously heard the tales of how she had brought some to justice.

“After these men have removed the corpse to the chapel and out of profane sight, I am sure you will want to follow immediately and pray for the poor man’s soul.” With a deep bow, he turned and walked away, his bearing confident as if he had just won at chess.

Eleanor watched him, grinding her teeth with fury. This sheriff was no fool. Although she had never intended to meddle, he must have feared she might do just that. By placing her under guard, however reasonable that might seem, he effectively prevented her from doing anything that might embarrass him or keep him from making a quick arrest, one made with minimal concern for justice but maximum benefit to his ambitions.

“But you erred in your judgment of me,” she muttered, “and now shall pay both for your insult and your presumption.”

A lanky young man approached, most probably her guard.

She smiled sweetly at the sheriff’s man. As she remembered her brother once saying, an army might lose battles but still win the war.

Chapter Fourteen

Eleanor and Thomas knelt by the corpse and begged God’s mercy for Tobye’s soul. Yesterday, the man might have been handsome enough to entice any woman to tumble with him in the stable straw. Today, his mutilated body proved inspiration only to hungry maggots and priests seeking an image for a sermon on mortal decay.

“Might your guard join us here?” the monk asked in Latin, with no change in intonation from that of prayer.

Without hesitation, the prioress answered in Latin as if replying to a priest’s call for a congregational response. “He waits outside and gladly enough. I told him we wished to pray alone for the groom’s unshriven soul. The guard must be new at this work because his face turned green at the sight of this poor man’s slit throat, then paled at the thought that his spirit might still be hovering. Fortunately,” she added with evident amusement, “you do not fear ghosts, as I learned at Amesbury.”

After all this time, Prioress Eleanor’s Latin proficiency should not surprise him, but Thomas knew that most women of religious vocation, even those holding high rank, had little knowledge of it. Now that she had reminded him of the events at Amesbury, however, he remembered Sister Beatrice, a woman possessed of a most formidable mind and education, who had taught Prioress Eleanor and just happened to be her aunt.

“How I wish Sister Anne were here,” he replied, hoping his hesitation did not suggest he had changed his mind about wandering spirits.

“She has tutored you well enough, and I have long trusted your ability to note significant details. Please be quick in your examination of that body, however, lest my guard grow suspicious or someone else joins us in this small chapel. Convey in Latin what this sad corpse tells you.”

Rising quickly, Thomas walked over to the body and stood where he could keep the chapel door in view. He pulled the rough sheet down just far enough to expose Tobye’s naked chest, then began touching his cheeks and neck.

Eleanor continued intoning prayers.

“He has not yet fully stiffened.” He checked the hands, arms, chest, and shoulders. “I cannot be sure, since I did not see the body where it lay, but I see no evidence of a struggle. No blood on the fingers nor obvious flesh under the nails, only the usual mud and dirt. No unusual cuts, bruises or scratches.”

The prioress gave a short answer to suggest they were continuing the call and response of a set prayer.

The monk now bent to study the throat cut. “If the groom was asleep when he was attacked, either a man or a woman might have slit his throat. It was cleanly done, which suggests little or no hesitation about committing the deed. That points to a man, one who hunts or has experience in battle. The killer must be skilled with a knife to cut so efficiently and quickly, nor was it deeper than required to send the soul to judgement. Thus I might conclude the deed was not done in the heat of anger.” Fearing he had heard a sound, he glanced up.

Eleanor looked over her shoulder as she continued her prayers, then gestured for the monk to continue.

Thomas examined the head before quickly pulling the sheet over the body. “That is all my poor skills tell me.” Quietly returning to his prioress’ side, he knelt and whispered, “The lord of this manor could surely have killed the man who had put horns on his head.”

“Or else a woman, skilled with cutlery, who became enraged when another supplanted her in the bedding straw. We must look further into this crime,” she continued to chant.

Puzzled, Thomas looked at his prioress. “I am your servant in all things, my lady, but will you give me leave to ask a question?”

“Granted, Brother.”

“How far will we pursue this? I understand that the king’s man has a certain reputation, but reason also argues that those who live here know the nature and relationships of their fellows better than we. Surely they will provide good evidence and force the king’s man to render a proper justice. As strangers, I question our efficiency in this matter. As guests, do we have the right to interfere?”

Eleanor glanced at the door behind them. It remained shut. “Were this king’s man as conscientious as our crowner, we would reveal all we know and let him find the killer. Based on my brief conversation with him, however, I think he lacks a certain integrity. Yet his high position in this county may cause many to be anxious about retaliation if they present evidence which does not suit his purpose. Fear of retaliation may shatter their honorable intentions and render them silent.”

Thomas still looked troubled.

“Yet you would be right to question me further, Brother. My ardor for probing deeper into the matter is partly born of my own sinful craving for retribution. This king’s man showed disrespect for my vocation before he knew my rank. If he has so little regard for the sanctity of a simple nun, he will show equal contempt for justice if it interferes with his ambition. The courtesy demanded by our position as guests may be affected by that.”

Thomas’ face flushed. “What did he do?”

“You had stepped away on my command,” she continued, answering his unspoken concern, “and thus could not have seen him grasp my arm, an indignity no man commits against a woman dedicated to God.” Her Latin now fell again into the cadence of chant. “But feel no anger on my behalf. Honor shall be assuaged if he is forced to look beyond his self-interest to find the murderer. As we had decided before, we need not solve the crime, but we must set him irrevocably on the path he should take, whatever direction he may prefer. The difference between our original intent and the current one is only the force with which we shall push him. That purpose can only succeed if we produce proof which he cannot hide and of sufficient strength that he cannot dispute it.”

“What do you wish of me, my lady?”

“First, examine the stable for any evidence since no one seems to have done that. Next, learn what gossip is about, for you are sleeping in the kitchen and have access to many of the servants here. Take care not to arouse suspicion in this and remember that someone wields a knife with stealth and efficiency. You must not fall victim to the killer.”

“And you, my lady? Will you also take care? I fear that you will not remain apart from these troubles.”

“Do I not have yon lout outside the door in constant attendance?” Eleanor sighed. “Yet he bears no blame for the duty he was commanded to perform. Perhaps he may even prove more useful in protecting me than stopping me from doing what this king’s man feared I might. You and I shall meet for prayer before breaking fast tomorrow, and we shall chant the Office as well as our findings in this matter of justice.”

As one they loudly sang, “Amen!”

Thomas carefully opened the chapel door, and the pair stepped outside. There was no sign that anyone had lingered outside to overhear, but Eleanor’s confidence in her assigned protection diminished when she looked at her guard.

All their caution to speak in a tongue he would not understand was unneeded.

The man was sound asleep.