Satan's Lullaby

Chapter Ten

Eleanor and the lay sister waited outside the chamber where the corpse rested.

Within, Davoir knelt by the body of his beloved Jean and wailed with unrestrained grief.

“He was like a son to him, my lady,” a voice nearby said.

The prioress turned to see the other clerk she had seen with the priest when they arrived. This time, there was no hint of his previous boredom. His thin lips trembled.

“My name is Renaud,” he said, opting to remind her of his name as a courtesy lest the tragedy of this moment had chased it from her memory. “I am second in responsibility to my dead companion.” A tear wove its way down his cheek.

Eleanor caught herself wondering why only one eye wept, then chastised herself for such a petty thought. “I grieve for you as well. The death of a friend, even one who has surely found God’s favor, is a wounding loss,” she said. Although compassion required that she honor his grief, her loyalty to Sister Anne equally demanded she probe into this inexplicable death.

“Father Etienne told me that the remedy offered by our healers did nothing for poor Jean,” she said. “I did not know of this, nor, I suspect, did our sub-infirmarian. She would have sought an explanation for why her measures were failing before this death took place.”

Renaud rubbed the dampness from his cheek. “She must have known, my lady. I told the lay brother, who brought the cure, that Jean failed to thrive. He said the treatment would take time and that he had informed Sister Anne of the symptoms I mentioned.”

How odd, the prioress thought. The sub-infirmarian had mentioned none of this, and, if the lad only suffered from a surfeit of ale, he should have been cured by now. “What was this lay brother’s name?” If there was blame to cast here, this information was the place to start.

“Brother Imbert.”

“Imbert?” The prioress frowned. “Are you certain?”

“I am, my lady. He mentioned his name several times.” He flushed. “I cannot be mistaken.”

She looked at the lay sister who shook her head. “We have no monk or lay brother bearing that name.”

“Someone lies!” Davoir leaned against the door to the dead clerk’s room, his eyes swollen from weeping. He gestured to Renaud. “Bring this sub-infirmarian here. Now. She has much to explain.”

“Her duties…”

“Now!”

Eleanor flushed at the imperious tone. This was her priory, not his, but she swallowed the insult and chose silence.

Davoir gestured to his clerk and pointed at the main door.

Renaud ran from the room.

***

It did not take long for Sister Anne to arrive. Seeing Eleanor’s troubled expression, she knew the summons involved a grave matter.

“Who is Brother Imbert?” Davoir’s eyes flashed.

The light in his gaze reminded Eleanor of sermons describing hellfire.

Anne looked at Eleanor, then at the priest. “I am perplexed by the question, Father. There is no such man at Tyndal Priory.”

The priest’s mouth twisted with contempt. “Tell her what occurred,” he said to Renaud. “Let her explain herself.”

“But you sent Brother Imbert!” the youth protested. “He brought the remedy for Jean and gave instructions for its use. He insisted that the directions came from you. When I repeatedly told him that my fellow clerk did not improve, he said he had conveyed the news and that you insisted we must be patient. The remedy would take time. Today Jean suffered convulsions and…” He covered his face.

“But I sent no such person to you!” Anne looked around in horror. “A clerk came at your command, Father Etienne. Once only. I did give him the treatment and instructions.”

“Name this clerk,” Davoir snarled.

“I cannot. He gave me no name. I never saw him again. Might he have been the Imbert of whom you speak?”

“Describe the man.”

“I am unable to do so with any detail.” She clenched her fist and shut her eyes. “Medium height. No distinctive accent or tone of voice.” Anne threw her hands up in frustration. “The light was poor. His hood cast his face in shadow…”

Davoir spun around to face Eleanor, his face scarlet with rage. “I sent no one. She lies! Her remedy was useless, and she wants to hide her incompetence by suggesting a strange plot.” Tears wended their way down his cheeks again. “Perhaps you are about to claim that this was an imp sent by the Evil One to kill a youth who served God well?” He swiped the moisture from his cheeks and pointed at Anne. “Maybe this fiend is well-known to you, Sister.”

“Enough!” Eleanor shouted with outrage. “Why assume there is something evil in a nun who has done much good in God’s name? We have no Brother Imbert, but that does not mean my sub-infirmarian has formed a pact with the Devil or is lying.” She began to turn toward Renaud and suggest he might have grounds to lie, but his grief-stricken face stopped her and she fell silent. One unjust accusation was one too many.

But Davoir had read her initial intent. “Why look accusingly at my clerk? What cause has he to tell a false tale? Renaud and Jean were like brothers!”

“I do not claim he did,” Eleanor replied. As if Satan had passed by, she wrinkled her nose. Something smelled foul, but she could not trace the source. All she knew for certain was that Sister Anne would not lie.

Shaking with anger and grief, the priest glowered at Sister Anne. “I accuse you of murder,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “When I refused to allow you to examine Jean, a godly youth who cringed at the very sight of women, you were resentful and let sin find a welcome in your heart. It was the Prince of Darkness who urged you to poison the devout lad out of wicked spite.” Suddenly, he faced Eleanor again. “Or there is another purpose here. You ordered your nun to kill my clerk so that I might flee in fear and not investigate the heinous crimes of which you may be guilty.”

Anne staggered in shock. Recovering, she turned red with fury and took one step toward the priest.

Eleanor put a hand on her friend’s arm to hold her back. “Beware the temptation to falsely accuse. God deems that a sin,” she said to Davoir, biting the end off each word. “If you insist on finding fault without proof, I shall plead my innocence directly to Rome.”

His horror was as palpable as his anger. “I never condemn without proof. Nor shall I denounce you until I have concluded my inquiry into the initial foulness of which you remain accused.”

Eleanor wanted to argue that he had lost all semblance of objectivity and ought not to continue this absurd investigation at all, but something stopped her. It would be futile, she decided, to attempt to debate with one who was blind to facts.

He raised a hand to command a silence that already existed. “Be grateful that I retain my desire, and that of my sister, for a just examination despite the painful death of my best clerk. I shall not order you to be locked away until I am done, Prioress Eleanor. If you are found innocent, your statements in support of this nun will be given due credence. If not, I shall denounce you both as Satan’s whores.” He pointed a shaking finger at Sister Anne. “She, however, must be locked away to prevent her from harming anyone else in my party. For that order, I have cause.”

Sister Anne gestured to her prioress not to protest on her behalf. “I accept that confinement, Father, but beg one thing,” Anne said, her tone unnaturally meek.

He hesitated, then sighed and agreed.

“Bring what is left of the remedy I am accused of sending so I may examine it. There is no evil in my request. You are here to watch me, and I shall immediately return it into your own hand.”

Sketching the sign of the cross to ward off evil, Davoir told Renaud to retrieve it.

When the clerk handed her the open jar, Anne asked what instructions had been given for its use.

He closed his eyes and repeated them slowly.

“Odd,” she said. “Those are not what I would have ordered for a drink of powdered ginger root and chamomile. She gazed into the jar, and her eyes grew round with disbelief. “This is autumn crocus,” she said in a whisper. “Tell me how he died?”

Renaud described Jean’s death agony in great detail.

“This preparation is for gout, not a queasy stomach. Even if Jean had suffered from gout, he would have died from the dosage you said I ordered.” Her face the color of chalk, she whispered, “As he has and in the manner described.”

“Lock her in a room with the guard I alone provide,” Davoir ordered. “If there is a man nearby who represents the king’s justice, he must be brought here to see the corpse.” He smiled at the infirmarian, his expression not unlike a cat savoring the sight of a doomed mouse. “But the Church will order the punishment you must suffer for this crime, and I promise that you shall long for death.”

“I submit to this, my lady,” Anne said to her prioress. “As Heaven is my hope, I shall be found innocent.”