Justice for the Damned (19 page)

"Brother
Jerome waited? A minor miracle," Beatrice muttered.

"From
the way his body lay, the librarian was kneeling or bending over when he died.
I could not tell if he had been holding the Psalter, and then dropped it, or
was retrieving it from the floor when the killer struck."

Thomas'
eyes narrowed. "Was the Psalter damaged?"

"Apparently
not. When he examined it, Brother Jerome expressed relief that there were no
bloodstains."

"I
find it odd that the Psalter was not stored safely away until the monk came to
do repairs," Beatrice said.

Thomas
cleared his throat. "I might be at fault for that, Sister. When I came to
give an account of my evening at the inn, Brother Porter told me that Prioress
Eleanor had left the priory. Since I had heard your monks speak of this
wondrous Psalter, I went to the library to see it. Brother Baeda was kind
enough to show me the work."

Eleanor
frowned. "Yet you and I met together later in the afternoon. There was
time to put the Psalter in the manuscript chest afterward. Had Brother Baeda
grown so careless about the works under his care? I remember him as a most
meticulous man."

"He
had not changed. Our brother loved the books like a father might his
children." Beatrice turned with a wry smile to Thomas. "He must have
been pleased at your unexpected interest."

Thomas
met her gaze. For a moment they studied each other, and then he nodded as if
conceding some private debate. "The Psalter was open on the table when I
entered the library. Brother Baeda mentioned that word of its presence there
must have spread, for I was the second to beg leave to see the book of late.
Perhaps a third came later, and the brother did not have time to return the
treasure to a less public place."

"Or
else the first returned?" Eleanor suggested. "Who was this
person?"

Thomas
looked down at the floor and worried the rushes with his foot.
"Sayer."

"Did
Brother Baeda say what sort of interest our roofer showed?" Beatrice
asked.

"Sayer
expressed delight with the work itself and asked how such a valuable item was
stored to protect it from accidental damage."

"Wulfstan's
son showed a most commendable concern for the safety of our holy works."
Beatrice's eyes revealed no shaded meaning in that simple statement.

"A
worry that I share," Eleanor cried out. "Dearest Aunt, I know you
believe Sayer to be a harmless rogue, but the direction of all we have learned
deeply troubles me. May I have permission to present my concerns?"

"I
wish to hear them."

"We
know that man led weak-fleshed monks into sin for coin. His own father had ties
to lawless men when he himself was younger." She turned toward Thomas and
Anne. "Today, my aunt and I saw toeholds in the wall Prioress Ida had
asked Wulfstan to repair, gouges in the mortar that would allow someone to
enter and exit this priory. Even if he was innocent of that foul treachery,
someone who helped him was not. I must ask if Sayer was his assistant."

"A
question easily and soon answered. Please continue, my child."

"A
moment ago, we learned that this son, who has followed his father's example of
dishonest behavior, asked pointed questions about this priory's treasured
Psalter. Soon after, an unknown is seen escaping from the library after slaying
a monk, the body found lying on this same book. Why was the killer there? Might
these violent deeds be related in some way to the Psalter? Theft of relics and
fine works done in God's name is not unusual. Maybe Sayer and his father found
a way to benefit from the theft of this manuscript, quarreled over some detail,
and the son killed his father as he publicly threatened he would? Now he has
killed Brother Baeda who happened upon him while he was attempting to take the
Psalter."

Thomas'
face turned a dark red. "You have observed well, my lady, and I cannot
dispute your conclusion that Sayer might have killed the monk in a botched
attempt to steal the Psalter. Yet I cannot believe he killed his own father,
despite the argument at the inn and his drunken threats."

"Sayer
may have had minor differences with his father, but that quarrel is the first I
have heard that the two might have had a serious disagreement." Beatrice
glanced at Thomas before turning again to her niece. "The idea about a
planned theft of our manuscript is most interesting, however."

"You
know more of both men than I, Aunt, and understand the world far better. I beg
you to show me where I have erred."

"In
nothing, I fear. Yet neither Wulfstan nor Sayer has ever been a brutish maen.
The father was not alone in hungering after another man's fat purse, then
joining with friends to equally distribute such wealth." No mirth lightened
the novice mistress' laugh. "Do not mistake my meaning in this. A crime
was committed, but merchants lost money, not their lives. And, aye, Sayer took
advantage of men's weaknesses for his own profit. Both father and son were disgraceful
in their wickedness; nonetheless, neither ever added murder to his wrongdoing.
Man may be an evil creature by nature, but each mortal has his special vice.
Sayer's has never been bloodshed, although theft of a Psalter might not be
beyond him."

"Sayer's
mother speaks well of him," Thomas said softly.

"As
did his cousin, Alys," Eleanor conceded.

"Although
many might argue against me on this, I am not so sure we ought to ignore the
faith of an innocent girl or the testimony of a mother." Beatrice turned
to Anne. "I say this as a woman beyond the age when illusions are
common."

Anne
chuckled. "I might have said a woman who had not yet reached those years
when she is like to paint the past with the softer colors of delusion."

"You
flatter me, Sister. Yet I fear Sayer is involved in this matter even if I
question his role as a killer."

"If
Sayer and his father plotted the theft of the Psalter and argued about it for
some reason, the killing might have come about by accident," Eleanor
suggested.

Thomas
turned to Beatrice, his hands extended as if pleading with her to agree.
"I found Mistress Drifa creditable when she said the quarrel would have
been of little consequence had Wulfstan lived. She is not ignorant of her loved
ones' wrongdoings, no matter how much she might despise the deeds. Could such a
crime as this theft have seemed a petty thing to an honest woman? That said, I
suspected that she was hiding something, something she avoided telling me.
Whatever that might be, however, I cannot believe it was murder."

The
novice mistress agreed. "Rogue the lad may be, a corrupter of those who
long to be seduced and mayhap a thief, but he has always been a gentle man,
willing to help the sad recover laughter with merry jests. That is not a man
who kills with the cruelty we have seen here."

Thomas
bent his head in concurrence.

"Do
we agree that Sayer is most likely implicated in some way, even if we hold
doubt that he slew Wulfstan or Brother Baeda?" Eleanor looked around at
her companions.

They
all nodded.

She
went on. "Unless we give credence to ghosts or believe that chance murder
has suddenly become the custom here, we must recognize that the killings share
a common element. That is the roofer."

"My
lady..."

Eleanor
held up her hand at Thomas' mild protest. "Do not misunderstand me. I am
not condemning, but I would be remiss if I did not note the connections.
Sayer's father was in charge of repairing the wall, a flawed mending that
allowed continued access to the priory. Wulfstan is stabbed and beheaded near
the very place. Sayer asks questions about the Psalter. Soon after, Brother
Baeda is throttled with a cord in the library."

"When
we met at the inn, Sayer was surprised that I had found a way out of the
priory. His reaction may prove he was not the one who left the toeholds in the
wall," Thomas said.

"Or
else he was amazed that you discovered his covert path, Brother," Anne
replied.

"If
that was true, he could have killed me to preserve the secret after I left the
inn," Thomas protested. His face fell. "Or might have done so if he
had not passed out from drink."

Eleanor
leaned toward her aunt. "Is it possible that someone from within the
priory is the culprit?"

"Not
of our librarian's death at least. Although Brother Jerome is often too full of
righteous zeal, I am grateful that he chose this time to note those present at
the Evening Office," Beatrice said. "Only Brother Baeda failed to be
there and no one could have left the chapel in time to kill the poor man. If
the monks are innocent of that, I cannot imagine any were guilty of Wulfstan's
killing."

Eleanor
looked over at Thomas. "And you believe that Sayer is an unlikely father
killer?"

"I
do," the monk murmured.

"I
find it hard to believe that Wulfstan wanted to steal our Psalter."
Beatrice shook her head. "He had honored the king's law for so many
years."

"Since
the birth of his third child." Thomas spoke so softly he might have been
talking to himself.

"Unless
he learned of his son's plot and wanted to share some of the profit," Anne
suggested.

"There
is something else to consider." Eleanor reached out and touched her aunt's
sleeve. "I do not believe in ghosts any more than you, but we cannot deny
that Wulfstan saw something before his death and was most frightened of it.
Might this alleged ghost have been Sayer playing a prank?"

"A
man in a woman's dress? That is most unusual." Beatrice glanced at the
faces around her. "Very well, it is possible and has been done, but surely
the father would have recognized his oldest son. The man was shaking when he
told me about the sighting that morning. His rank sweat is not easily
faked."

"Unless
he was so convinced because of the tales that it was the ghost he failed to see
a familiar face," Anne added. "Fear plays an imp's tricks with mortal
eyes."

"We
are circling problems but finding no solutions." Eleanor turned to her
aunt. "I beg approval..."

"Do
what is needed," the novice mistress replied. "We will get no
assistance from the secular world."

"Brother
Thomas, you are the best one to find Sayer and question him. If the man has not
fled, he may be innocent, yet have something to tell us about the wall, the
manuscript, and his father that will bring clarity to everything. For your own
safety, do this only in a public place and with much caution. If he is not a
killer but is guilty of some other crime, we can offer mercy..."

"Our
faith demands it," Beatrice said.

Thomas
agreed. In the weak light, his face was white.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

Eleanor
hoped the tranquility of the priory gardens would ease the pain this violence
had brought to her soul. On those occasions when she was able to fill her
spirit with silence, she knew that her position as prioress forced her into the
brutality of a secular world far more than was good for any one who had sworn
to serve God alone. But He demanded special sacrifices from each follower, and
her particular oblation allowed many others the encloistered peace required for
concentrated prayer. "We may not quarrel with the road we are set
upon," she reminded herself. "We must only pray that God grace us
with compassion and understanding."

If
there was ever a time when she needed both, it was now. Eleanor had left the
chambers with a mind aching for answers. Never before had she felt so confused
by events, by contradictory perceptions, and by the number of people who might
be involved.

What
questions would bring truth to the fore in this most complex maze of ghosts,
murder, Psalters, and intentions? There was some connection she was failing to
see and almost nothing she could dismiss.

Wulfstan
seemed to have no enemies, despite his lawless years, and she could not set
aside his equally long record of reliable, honest labor. His son may have led
others to sin, but her aunt, who surely knew him best and agreed he might be a
thief, thought murder beyond him. Were father and son involved in a plot to
steal the Psalter, as she suspected? Was the quarrel but a drunken spat?

Who
was the ghost? Was it a boy playing the fool or a killer in disguise? Mayhap
Sayer? Was the spirit a woman or a man dressed up to look like one? Perchance
Jhone, seeking to frighten both village and priory into reconsidering the
condemnation of her childhood friend? As unlikely as that seemed, it was not
something Eleanor could set aside either. And did it matter whether the shape
was judged to be a queen or a local spirit back from Hell?

And
what of this Bernard, a man in need
of
money to win the woolmonger's
daughter and a profitable business? His name had not even been mentioned as a
suspect, but she wondered if it should be. Was he a dreaming boy who truly
loved his Alys, or a scheming thief who sought to sell a stolen manuscript and
thus gain what he could not earn as a merchant of gloves? Even if Sayer and his
father had planned the theft of the Psalter, they needed someone to sell it for
them, a man who could travel with ease.