Justice for the Damned (24 page)

Compassion
battled against suspicion inside Thomas' heart as he watched Sayer clutching
his cup like a shipwrecked sailor holding onto a floating spar. "Why did
you two fight?" he asked at last, his voice soft. "You remember well
enough. Do not feign addled wits with me and claim your reason has grown rotten
with ale. Your words have been too quick."

Sayer
looked up at the ceiling, his mouth quivering with barely controlled grief.
"Brother, ask not why we fought." His voice hoarsened with tears.
"This I do swear to you on any holy relic: I did not kill my father. My
soul may be so black that even God in His mercy would turn His countenance
away, but I loved the man who sired me!" With that, Sayer began to weep.

Thomas
reached out to touch the man with a gesture of sympathy but his hand froze.
Instead, he quickly slid from the bench and found a serving wench. "Here
is coin," he said, gesturing back at the roofer. "Make sure he has
what he wants to drink, plus food and a bed for the night, should he need either."

The
agony he had seen in Sayer's eyes was an emotion he himself had hoped to set
aside one day. Now he doubted he ever could. Filled with his own confused fears
and sorrows, Thomas hurried from the inn.

Chapter
Thirty-One

"Prioress
Eleanor! What a pleasant surprise to chance upon you here." Master Herbert
bowed with grace. "Are you on your way to visit Mistress Jhone and her
daughter?"

"I
am returning to the priory," she replied, praying that her tone concealed
the dismay she felt at this meeting. After the recent discussion with
Wulfstan's widow, then Master Bernard, she longed to return in time for the
soothing prayers of the next Office.

"I
fear that you think ill of me," the vintner said, blocking her path.

Eleanor
cast a covert glance at the sun and then heard the bells. Even if she left now,
she would be late for prayer. Maybe God had sent the vintner to speak with her
and He would bring her that understanding later when she knelt alone in her
chambers. With a quiet sigh, she surrendered to the circumstances and inclined
her head with an encouraging gesture toward the merchant.

He
smiled. "I do understand why Alys might prefer a tender boy to this man
with hints of hoarfrost on his brow..."

Silver-headed
was not a word anyone would use to
describe this still dark-haired and well-favored merchant, Eleanor thought, and
she found that unsubtle plea to affirm his manhood mildly offensive. Swallowing
her irritation, she gestured sympathetically.

"..
.but I had hoped to win her over in time. Such a union is in both our
interests, and I am not so aged that she would have any reason to complain of
me."

"You
do not long for the lady herself?" The prioress shaded her question with
the tone of one who understands the merits of mutually profitable marriages.

"It
would be rude of me to suggest I fancied only her dead father's business."
He stroked the thick nap on his robe. "A business I need not, but one I am
most willing to take on for a wife able to bear sons. Of course, I do find her
most comely."

Eleanor
looked at him askance. "A woman worth bedding, but will you treat her
kindly even if she does not bear those sons?"

To
his credit, the vintner looked abashed. "My lady, I would never treat her
ill."

"Would
your first wife have agreed?"

Herbert's
brow furrowed deeply. "Who has accused me of cruelty?"

Eleanor
shook her head. Although the vintner clearly expected her to continue, Eleanor
remained silent, hoping he would feel obliged to say more himself.

"I
am confused by your question, my lady. My wife was a most pious woman, and we
bedded only for sons. It was our share of earthly grief that none lived, but I
treated her with respect as a man should his wife and did my best to persuade
the crowner that she died by accidental drowning. No woman who spent so many
hours in prayer would have killed herself." He shrugged. "Do these
actions point to a thoughtless husband?"

How
very strange, Eleanor thought. Once again she was faced with a man who tells
another that his wife cuckolded him, then shows forgiveness by arguing against
any verdict of self-murder. Although she should have respected him for his
Christian charity, she felt oddly uncomfortable with it.

"You
testified at the hearing?" she asked.

"Grief
tried to keep me away, but I spoke on her behalf most passionately."

Herbert's
story of Eda's piety and his defense of her manner of dying certainly matched
that of the glover. Even if she heard a hint in the vintner's words that he
might have preferred a more eager bed partner than he found in Eda, she
detected nothing that fostered suspicion that he had been harsh to her. Alys'
fears seemed to have less and less basis.

Herbert
suddenly looked over Eleanor's head, his widening smile one of peculiar
delight. "Is that not your monk, my lady?"

Eleanor
spun around. Rushing toward them, from the direction of the inn, was Brother
Thomas.

When
Eleanor greeted him, Thomas did not know whether he should feel gratitude for
the interruption to his grim mood or dismay at the sight of the fine-looking
merchant standing so close to his prioress. He quickly dismissed both thoughts
and replaced them with concern for Tyndal's honor. His prioress might know he
had reason to be outside monastic walls, but her companion did not.

"My
lady," he said. "I am most pleased to see you. I have just returned
from offering solace to Sayer as you requested."

"At
the inn?" The vintner's tone dripped with contempt.

Thomas
felt his body grow rigid with anger at the disapproval he saw in Herbert's
eyes. He swallowed his sharp reply, but his throat burned with the effort.
"I saw Sayer enter the inn and followed him there," Thomas said,
folding his arms. "The son laments the death of his father."

"And
uses his sorrow as an excuse to grow into a sot from drink," Herbert
snorted. "Yet I am sure the boy must grieve for a father who was murdered
just after they quarreled. It would be an unnatural son who did not, although
Sayer has always been a strange one." He shook his head. "Do not accuse
me of being uncharitable, Brother, for I am not the only one in the village who
thinks his soul does not praise God."

"For
what reason is he so maligned?" Thomas continued, his tone as icy as a
northern wind.

"Surely
you would not ask me to repeat cruel gossip? If you spoke with him for any
time, you must have seen the color of his soul for yourself." He bent his
head toward the inn. "Satan finds joy in those who choose worldly
indulgence over godly acts."

Thomas
clenched his hand into a fist, then pressed it behind his back to keep from
striking the man down.

Herbert
smiled without humor. "Yet he may well have made peace with Wulfstan
before the killing." He shrugged. "I would not know that."

Eleanor,
who had remained quite silent throughout, now turned to Thomas. "I am
grateful you have performed the mercy I requested, but I believe Sister
Beatrice has another service for you."

The
monk bowed. "I was just returning to the priory to seek her out, my
lady." He suspected there was nothing the novice mistress wished him to
do, but he guessed that his prioress had read his anger well. In any event, he
was grateful to escape this offensive vintner.

As
he walked away, and Eleanor resumed her conversation with Herbert, Thomas heard
an uncharacteristic animation in her voice. The thought that his iron-willed
and most virtuous prioress might be attracted to the dark-eyed merchant flitted
briefly through his mind. The very idea made him uncomfortable, and he quickly
turned his thoughts elsewhere.

Perhaps
he should visit Brother Jerome? Now that Brother Baeda was dead, the irascible
monk had taken on the librarian's duties, including care of the Amesbury
Psalter. Time having somewhat faded the horror of murder, the witness might
remember more about the killer he had seen.

Chapter
Thirty-Two

Had
Eleanor known about Thomas' momentary displeasure and the cause, her reaction
might have been guilty delight mixed with surprised amusement. Herbert was an
attractive man, even clever were she to be fair in judgement, but no imp would
ever take on his form to torment her in dreams. Whatever charms this vintner
might
possess,
they were not unflawed. He was an easy temptation to set
aside.

"Your
words have touched this heart, my lady, and I have found merit in them,"
the vintner said as he shifted his gaze from the departing monk back to the
prioress.

"What
frail logic have you transformed into something of value, Master Herbert?"

"God
has surely sent you to bend me to His will. You see, I have suddenly lost all
desire to go abroad and think I would find comfort in remaining near my first
wife's lonely grave. I would never step on cursed soil, but might not my
presence and daily prayers give her tortured spirit some comfort even in
Hell?"

Souls
in Hell were not granted ease, but Eleanor did not want to discourage the man
from an act that might bring him respite from grief. "Yet you still wish
to remarry?" she asked.

"Aye,
I do, weak of flesh that I am. I would surely die of burning if I did not find
a wife." He flicked his hand toward the priory. "Unlike your young
monk, I have no religious calling, and sons are needed if any business is to
continue and prosper."

"Have
you new hope that Alys will accept you as husband?"

He
shook his head. "You spoke of kindness and thus persuaded me that further
delay in this marriage is hurtful to all concerned. Until Alys is firmly
pledged to me, she will persist with her dream that she may yet wed the glover.
While I have tolerated a young girl's itch for a boy, I now understand that
there is great danger in continuing to do so." His gaze was almost
caressing as he looked down at Eleanor. "Women who stay in the world have
led men to their damnation since Eve gave Adam the apple. Master Bernard would
have to be a saint not to bed Alys if she continues to give him encouragement.
No matter how much patience and compassion I might wish to show in this matter,
I do require that my first born be of my seed. Is that not reasonable?"

"You
should expect it," Eleanor replied truthfully,
yet
she was
unsettled by his mocking tone.

"Thus
all sweet courting must end. Although I am loath to do so, I have no choice but
to make one final trip to Gascony, and so I go to Mistress Jhone to insist that
the marriage be arranged before I leave."

"You
know that any woman may refuse a marriage..."

"Alys
might have that legal right, but surely she understands both the profit in our
union and her moral obligation. The marriage was her dead father's wish. It is
her mother's. It is mine. How can she refuse?"

Eleanor
nodded with barely concealed reluctance.

"Once
Alys and I are vowed to each other, I can take this last journey without fear
that the mother will weaken and let the girl marry Master Bernard."
Herbert folded his hands. "The boy is only interested in the wool business
and would cast the widow from their hearth as soon as he had the daughter. I
would not be so cruel."

Why
fear that Mistress Jhone would suddenly change, a woman who had shown no
bending at all in this matter heretofore? Eleanor frowned, yet she could not
quarrel with the vintner's fears regarding Alys and Bernard. Their meetings
might seem too brief to the pair, but the prioress knew how quickly lust flamed
and how little time it took to find a mutual quenching. "When do you
leave?"

"Within
the next few days." He gestured with frustration. "You see why I need
an immediate answer. My courting skills are indeed rough, but I
like
Alys.
She may be young, but she is not a child and has a quick wit. She is like a
bright fire, and I am a cold man without a wife. My heart finds warmth in her
light spirit. In time, we could surely learn to love each other. He fell
silent.

"I
will pray for good fortune in this matter," Eleanor said, carefully choosing
her words. The vintner might have won her compassion with these latest
arguments, and she feared that Bernard had an interest in stolen manuscripts,
but her woman's heart still sided with the younger couple.

Ignoring
any ambivalence in Eleanor's fair wishes, the merchant smiled as if God Himself
had approved his venture. He quickly asked a blessing, then hurried off to the
woolmonger's family.

Eleanor
longed to follow but knew she had no cause to interfere.

Chapter
Thirty-Three

"Had
this manuscript been stored properly, Brother Baeda would still be alive!"
Brother Jerome might be an elderly man, but his opinions were as firm as his
wiry body.

"What
mean you?" Thomas asked, peering down at the item in question, now resting
securely inside the priory book chest.