Satan's Lullaby

Chapter Sixteen

Gracia poured each of the men ale, and then offered warm bread and a white goat cheese.

The usually ravenous crowner glanced at the food and refused it.

”You have now heard everything Gracia has discovered from Sister Oliva,” Eleanor said.

Thomas smiled at the maid. “God gave you good wits,” he said, “and you apply them well.”

The girl flushed with pleasure. “It was my lady who thought to send me, Brother. If I have shrewdness, it is she who directed the use of it.”

Silent and melancholy, Ralf stared into his mazer.

“Something troubles you, old friend,” Eleanor said. “What is it?”

“I beg pardon, my lady. The moment I heard that Ann…” He glanced at Gracia and cleared his throat before rephrasing his concern. “Now that I know no one can identify the man sent to Sister Anne by the priest, it is hard to chase away my fears. As you know, I honor her and refuse to give up hope that she will be released. But that time seems even further off now, and my wife is near her term. Gytha must bear our firstborn in terrible pain without Sister Anne’s comfort and skill. I can only hope God listens to my wife’s prayers and shows mercy…”

“Sister Anne will attend your wife’s birth if I have to take our sub-infirmarian from that cell myself and stand guard outside the birth chamber like the cherubim at the gates of Eden.” Eleanor knew he was terrified for Gytha’s safety, a woman he cherished more than his own soul. Nor was Ralf the only one worried. Gytha had been her maid for several years before she married the crowner. The entire priory loved her, and the woman was as dear to the prioress as a younger sister.

Thomas watched his prioress’ hand form into a fist. Although she might otherwise tread carefully in this sensitive matter that could wound the tender pride of God’s anointed kings, Davoir and his army of clerks could not stop her from freeing Sister Anne when Gytha’s birth pains began. His spirits rose. Prioress Eleanor was no novice in the clash of wills and usually won the jousts.

“My lady, neither my wife nor I want to put the outcome of this ill-considered investigation, ordered by your abbess, at risk…” Tears trickled down the crowner’s cheeks. There were many in Tyndal village who would be shocked to see this often rough man weeping.

Eleanor shook her head. “Until Abbess Isabeau orders otherwise, Ralf, I rule this priory, not Father Etienne. I shall not allow the health and comfort of a new mother and her child to be set aside because one man has made a bad decision, one he shall soon rue. Sister Anne has been unjustly accused. She shall be at your wife’s side and bring both Gytha and the babe safely through their ordeals.”

“Your kindness is beyond measure,” Ralf murmured. “I shall reassure my wife.”

“And no matter what malicious lies have been spewed forth against us with unknown but foul intent, the God we serve at Tyndal Priory is loving and compassionate.” Eleanor’s face was white with fury. “He will vindicate the honor of us all, but the matter of Sister Anne’s innocence comes first.”

Thomas had rarely seen his prioress this angry or determined. “How to do so remains a mystery to me,” he said.

Ralf swallowed the last of his ale, and, his fears for his wife abated, he glanced at the food with renewed interest.

Gracia filled his cup and brought him the bread and cheese.

He thanked her with a smile.

“Neither you nor I can investigate without casting doubt on the validity of any evidence we find,” Thomas said to his prioress. “And Ralf’s authority here is limited.”

“You and I have always worked together in perfect accord, my lady, but Davoir will not allow me that freedom of consultation or investigation.” The crowner raised a fistful of food and then bit into his cheese.

“The precedent of cooperation has been set, Ralf. If Davoir questions it, any at this priory can confirm the practice and the respect you have always shown God’s law. In order to determine if this death is murder…”

“Davoir has already decided Sister Anne killed his clerk.” Fighting a resurgence of despair, Ralf waved a diminished handful of food at the ceiling. “May God curse him,” he muttered.

“And no matter how firmly Father Etienne holds that conclusion, he is in error. If he cannot be wooed by logic, I shall exercise my right to override any attempt by him to supersede my commands.” Her smile was as cold as a north wind on the feast of All Saints.

“What if he orders his clerks to lock you into a cell?” Ralf’s face turned gray.

“He has his clerks. I have loyal lay brothers under the command of Brother Beorn, all of whom wield pitchforks with the same skill clerks use quills.”

There was absolute stillness in the room as they all stared at her.

Thomas broke it with a laugh. “Brother Beorn might be army enough by himself, my lady. Even our crowner gives way to our lay brother on the path when they meet each other.” Glancing around, he was relieved to see that the mood had lightened. Even Ralf was grinning.

“At times I pity God that the lay brother serves Him,” Ralf said, then took more cheese when Gracia quickly offered it to him.

“If God has compassion for our guest, we may not need to use the lay brother, our greatest weapon. I can debate for hours with Father Etienne. By the time the priest and I have stopped quarrelling, Crowner, you will have done everything needed to prove our sub-infirmarian innocent or at least raise a reasonable doubt in Father Etienne’s mind.” Eleanor sat back in her chair and fingered her staff of office. The time for jests was over.

Ralf rose and began to pace. “Whom may I approach?”

“Begin with Sister Anne while you may,” she replied. “I will send someone with you for proper attendance. Ask for her version of the events, seek any clarification you need, and present your observations of the corpse. You have seen, touched, and smelled the body. From your questions and comments, our sub-infirmarian may have enough information to give you her firm opinion on the cause of Jean’s death.” She thought for a moment. “If God is kind, she may be able to help with timing of the death. Perhaps the beginning of the symptoms will provide a new clue, although I fear this elusive Brother Imbert remains the key to the locked chest where the solution lies.”

“But will Davoir allow this?”

“We shall invite his participation. Ask him for one of his best clerks to record and witness the interrogation. For all I care in this matter, you can leave the door to the cell open so everyone can hear what is said. There is no purpose in hiding anything if you phrase your questions cleverly.” Her smile was mischievous. “And I know just how clever you can be, Crowner. After all, you stole my maid from me.”

He flushed.

“Sister Anne must be made aware of this plan,” Thomas said. “How can that be done?”

The prioress gestured to her maid. “Gracia shall take our nun her meal from the kitchen and give her a brief message to alert her.”

“Won’t Davoir be suspicious if your maid appears so often, my lady?” Ralf asked.

Eleanor stood and gestured to the girl to come closer. Putting an arm around her, the prioress said to the crowner, “Look upon her. Do you see a child or a woman?”

“When you first came to Tyndal, Gytha was only a little older but had a woman’s form,” Ralf said after a moment. “Gracia does not.”

“Exactly. If Father Etienne notices her at all, he will dismiss her competence due to her perceived youth. Perhaps he thinks I selected a babe to serve me out of simple charity and will soon rue my choice. He most certainly does not see her as a messenger, nor one who observes and reasons far better than most owning many more years on this earth. Brother Thomas and I learned just how clever Gracia was in Walsingham. I am grateful she chose to come back with us and bring those skills.”

Gracia flushed with pleasure.

Thomas winked at her. “More fools they. Look at how effectively she questioned Sister Oliva in the hospital apothecary hut.”

“I did nothing except obey my lady,” Gracia said softly.

Eleanor gave her a hug. “And I take no credit for the gifts God has bestowed on you, my child.”

“Then let us plan what I must ask,” Ralf said eagerly.

Eleanor began to sit, then changed her mind and walked to the table to pour herself a cup of ale. “Forgive me, Ralf, but there is information I learned from Father Etienne that I should have sent to you long before now. I fear the clerk’s death and the arrest of Sister Anne chased the news from my memory.”

The chamber door creaked open, and the prioress’ cat entered. Contemplating all in the assembled group, he chose to favor Gracia with his attentions and rubbed against her legs.

She knelt to pet him.

“On the journey here,” Eleanor said, “one of the soldiers assigned to protecting our guests was killed. The captain of the guard insisted that he was aware of the circumstances and would render the appropriate justice. No crowner or sheriff was called. Perhaps the captain was correct, but I believe you should know about this.”

Ralf raised an eyebrow.

“Father Etienne did not say if any soldier was punished or executed for the crime. He was more concerned about the health of his clerk.” She sipped her ale. “Nor have I concluded there is any link between that death and Jean’s. Nonetheless, I did not want you to remain in ignorance, lest there be some connection or error in failing to alert you to the crime.”

Indeed I should know, Ralf thought, recalling the badly scarred man who sat with him at Signy’s inn and exhibited a rare curiosity about the village and the priory. Conan had made him uneasy. Now he had more cause to investigate this guard captain further.