Tyrant of the Mind

Chapter Fifteen

Thomas watched his prioress’ brother lean back on his heels and cross himself. Robert had just finished his confession but had said nothing that would guarantee him a greater place in Hell than any other mortal man.

He had denied the murder. He had denied even wishing Henry dead, although he grieved over his desire to do him at least some bodily harm for insults he had made against the Lady Juliana and for the death of Hywel, an accident Sir Geoffrey had explained was the result of Henry’s thoughtlessness. The nature of the insults against his betrothed he had refused to specify lest they befoul the reputation of the lady. Even with the shadow of a hangman’s rope swinging above his head, Robert of Wynethorpe was a most chivalrous man.

“You will feel better after you have gotten a tub for bathing and clean clothes, my lord,” Thomas said at last.

Robert’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You are kind, my friend, kinder than my condition warrants.”

“One may be kind to a guilty man for the judgment of God is nigh. An innocent man deserves courteous treatment.”

“Do you not believe that I am innocent of Henry’s murder, Thomas? Your tone is harsh.”

“Then you misread the meaning. I cannot believe that a man would lie in confession, knowing he could never deceive God and must soon face Him. That aside, I do believe you are innocent, yet my opinion means little while the truly guilty remains hidden. The harshness you hear in my tone is from worry. I pray the murderer may be discovered ere long.”

Robert turned away. “Perhaps the killer has already made confession to his priest.” He hesitated. “Has no one ever lied to you in confession?”

“If anyone ever has, I would not be the one to suffer. Whether or not a man chooses to hide his sins from me is irrelevant. God’s justice will always prevail.”

“Of that I have no doubt, but, since I am still of this world, I find comfort that you have faith in my innocence.”

Thomas smiled. “Aye, Robert, that I do. I do not think you killed him.”

“I did not murder him,” Robert said quickly, then fell silent. “Had I done so, I would have confessed that.”

Thomas blinked. Was there some significance in his friend’s choice of words? “Can you tell me nothing more about what you saw and heard?”

Robert stared into space, his brows furrowed with thought. “Nay.”

“Think on it carefully. Might you not have seen someone when you entered the hall outside the chambers Sir Geoffrey shared with his wife? Something you saw that seemed but a shadow at the time? Your life is in the balance, Robert. Give me even the thinnest thread to follow!”

Robert stood and walked over to the basin of water that Thomas had put on a small table. For a long moment, he dabbled his fingers in it, staring as the water circled around them. “Nothing,” he said, his whispered voice hoarse.

“When you heard the voices, however…”

“In truth, now that I think more on it, I must confess that I spoke too quickly when my sister was here. I heard nothing, unless it was voices in the dining hall. Aye, it must have been that and thus my confusion. It would have been the servants. Nay, I misspoke, Thomas. I heard no speech between two people.”

Thomas frowned at this sudden and doubtful retraction. “Such a quick abandonment of your previous statements, Robert? But surely with the body so warm there must have been someone nigh, someone that could have escaped down the passageway to other stairways. You must have seen or heard…”

Robert swirled around, his eyes angry but focused on the wall behind Thomas. “I saw no man. I heard no one, and I did not murder Henry. That may not be enough, Thomas, but that is all I can say.”

“Hywel’s wife? Might she have come to confront Henry…?”

“His wife was given a draught by the woman who took her away from his corpse this morning. After I left the dinner, I paid a visit to offer what comfort I could, and the old woman assured me that the drink she had concocted would put the wife into such a deep sleep for so many hours that she would awaken with a lesser grief. She has, after all, young children she must comfort and cannot afford to suffer such deep sorrow herself.”

There was clearly no purpose in pursuing anything further with Robert. The man’s eyes had glazed over and his color was now a gray pallor. If need be, the story of Hywel’s wife could be easily confirmed.

Thomas rose. “Will you promise to send word if anything else comes to mind, my friend?”

“Aye,” Robert replied. His words were barely audible, his head bowed, and his expression was hidden.

As Thomas left the prison cell and the guard closed the door behind him, he asked himself how carefully Robert might have chosen his words. Indeed, the man did seem to make a distinction between kill and murder, but with greater interest Thomas noted that Robert had said he had told him all he could say, not all that he knew.