Satan's Lullaby (5 page)

“If God is kind, and Jean heals quickly, our abbess’ brother may look upon the little faults in our priory with a more benevolent eye. Then we shall honor him with a feast of fish and vegetables from Sister Matilda’s kitchen before sending him back to Anjou.”

As she watched her friend depart, Prioress Eleanor’s brave words dissipated like a morning mist and she was filled again with a sharp dread of what might occur on the morrow.

Chapter Nine

Gracia carefully poured dark ale from a large pitcher into the small mazer held by Father Etienne. Not one errant drop dampened his robe.

He observed that, but his grim expression did not soften.

Catching her maid’s eye, Eleanor glanced at the platter of hard cheese and bright apples on the table.

Gracia replaced the pitcher and picked up the heavy platter. When she offered it to Davoir, he waved it away with a gesture commonly used to discourage flies.

Eleanor forced a smile, and then nodded discreetly at the table where her maid put the platter down. Now that the courtesy of offered refreshment was complete, Gracia went to the door and modestly cast her gaze to the rushes covering the stone floor. As inconspicuously as possible, she allowed herself a few glances to follow what was happening.

Savoring the drink, the priest pursed his lips, and then nodded. “Bitter but refreshing,” he noted. “I assume there is a purpose for the absence of wine and use of such humble cups?” He raised the small pewter mazer, but his tone suggested curiosity rather than criticism.

“We have wine for the church and the sick,” Eleanor replied. “As for the cups and platters, we only use gold and silver to honor God. Man may do with less.” She tilted her head, her lips twitching into a brief smile.

“And I agree. Like all men, vowed to God, I have turned aside from the glitter of worldly things.”

Without thinking, Eleanor looked at the jewel in his ring, then forced herself to look away as if distracted by the passing cloud that cast a brief shadow in the chambers. To be fair, she thought, the cross around his neck is simple, his robe is plain, and he wears no other adornment.

He waited, then continued. “What shall you do if King Edward visits?”

“Kings are anointed with holy oil, blessed on God’s altar. For our king, we would provide a finer chalice, not for the mortal man, but to honor the One who blessed him and granted him the privilege and responsibility of justly ruling a Christian nation.”

“My sister told me that you would be clever.”

She did not feel clever, and this wordplay was meaningless. Eleanor grew impatient, for she feared that moment would be like the lowering of the hangman’s noose over her head. She wished Brother Thomas was here with his calming manner, but Ralf had asked him to visit Gytha and hear her confession. Then, with a mix of dread and relief, she realized that Davoir shared her lack of interest in merry verbal games.

His smile fading, the priest cleared his throat. “My clerks found your accounting rolls to be in excellent order. The entries are done promptly and with adequate detail. They also found no payment for any item deemed inappropriate for a monastic house.”

She bit her lip. What did he expect to find? Entries for the cost of falcons? The purchase of arrows so the monks might hunt between the Offices? There were no high-born bishops or abbots here who brought their hawks and falcons to the steps of the altar while they prayed. Some priories and abbeys might allow these luxurious pleasures, but she would never permit them in her priory.

“Abbess Isabeau heard that you had turned the sad state of this priory’s assets into a profitable condition after your arrival. She will be pleased to know the tale has been confirmed.”

A situation the abbess had learned some time ago after Prior Andrew’s visits to the abbey with complete accounts, Eleanor thought, but murmured gratitude for the intended compliment. At least this investigation was not ordered because of some rumor of financial wrongdoing.

“As for the state of the priory buildings, walls, mill, fish ponds, orchards and gardens, I have some questions and a few deficiencies for you to address. Amongst those who accompanied me on this journey is a man who was a stonemason before God called him to a higher craft. I set him to examine the buildings.”

Gesturing to Gracia, the prioress indicated that she wished a certain document brought to her. Unrolling it, she waited for him to list his findings.

“There is an unsightly growth of dank moss in the window over the altar in the chapel. It dims the light coming into that place of worship.”

“The moss has been deliberately left to remind us that the human spirit must always strive to see the light in the darkness of earthly sin.”

Even if he did not acknowledge appreciation of her purpose in words, Davoir’s eyes brightened before he went to the next item. “The stones in the wall near the mill gate are loose.”

She looked down at her document. “We plan to repair that in late spring. If we did so now, we might have to mend it again after the snows. When the lay brother examined the wall, he found it strong enough to last one more winter.”

He mentioned two more items for which she had also planned work. Again he smiled. “Well done. As for the bee skeps, gardens, and orchards, your lay brothers and sisters have tended them with skill. Since these are things for which I have a particular fondness, I chose to examine that aspect of your priory myself.”

“Then I am especially honored that you found no neglect.” Trying to keep her hands steady, she rolled up her document and gave it back to Gracia for safekeeping.

“I also noted that you seem to adhere to the Rule in matters of diet, silence, Offices, and attire.”

“Our nuns, barring needs of family or other assigned duties to God, spend their days in prayer. Our anchoress, Juliana, is known for her pious advice to those who seek it. Our hospital offers spiritual comfort for the dying and cures for those whom God does not yet call…”

He waved his hand to interrupt. “I found no defect in these matters.”

“Yet I hear a note of concern in your voice. In what have you found a fault?”

“Your infirmarian is a pious woman and helps the dying turn their thoughts to Heaven with her prayers. As for Sister Anne, I found a lack of humility in her as well as an unwillingness to be directed by those wiser than she.” He looked at his mazer.

In an instant, Gracia was at his side and refilled it.

“I am troubled that you have no monk or even lay brother with sufficient training to determine the necessary treatments and potions. While a woman’s bodily imperfections are simple and her frailties may be easily understood, the physical ills of God’s more intricate creations, Adam’s sons, are beyond the comprehension of a woman.”

“Since Sister Anne has performed many noteworthy cures, witnessed by physicians and priests alike, I must conclude that God guides her hand.” She bowed her head. “How else may we explain this daughter of Eve owning the skills of Adam’s sons?” Before he interrupted her, she went on. “But perhaps your investigating clerk did not realize that Brother Thomas has some skill in these matters. He often takes remedies to the village for those who cannot travel to the hospital to receive them.” She omitted any mention that the sub-infirmarian made the cures and had done the monk’s training.

“Her treatment of my clerk has not been successful. Perhaps God chose this time while I was here to demonstrate His displeasure with her.”

Eleanor flushed with outrage. If Sister Anne had improperly diagnosed the clerk, she did so because of the priest’s interference. “May I suggest that she and Brother Thomas be allowed to examine the young man together? Prior Andrew is not an apothecary. His skills lie in other areas, such as administering our lands and rents, which you found capably executed.”

He stiffened. “I find your stubborn insistence in this matter unseemly, despite my clear objection, and I reject your renewed suggestion. Although I would have preferred to reveal the purpose of my investigation in a gentler manner, you now force me to be blunt. This visit was not something my sister wished to order, nor did she want to send me away from court at the very time when I might be offered a bishop’s miter.”

Eleanor felt a chill course through her. Had winter come so soon? Trying not to show her fear, she clutched her hands, prayed for strength, and waited.

“It has come to Abbess Isabeau’s attention that you and Brother Thomas have an unchaste relationship.”

Stunned beyond belief, Eleanor leapt to her feet. “That is a lie! Who has dared to make such a vile accusation?” Her outraged expression of innocence was honest enough. Although she might long for a different union with the handsome and gentle monk than one of brother and sister in God’s service, she knew Brother Thomas had never once been accused of sin with any woman since he took vows. Most certainly, he had never shown the slightest carnal interest in her.

“The source of this news shall remain anonymous.”

“Ask anyone in this priory or in the village outside our walls. Brother Thomas has never once broken his vows by lying with a woman or even looking at one with lust. And, if he is innocent of that, then you may conclude that he and I are joined only by our love of God.”

“I have not yet begun my questioning of the religious in this priory.”

“Then start immediately!” Eleanor slammed her staff of office against the floor. All courtesy due this man because of his mission, relationship to the Abbess of Fontevraud, and his stature in the French king’s court had just ended.

Davoir blinked in the face of such rage and hesitated before he also rose to his feet. “I shall begin with your sub-prioress.”

It was Eleanor’s turn to pause. Of all the people he might have queried, he would choose the one who viewed her with much ill-will. But on quick reflection, she believed that even Sub-Prioress Ruth would not stoop so low as to accuse her of bedding Brother Thomas.

“She is an excellent choice,” Eleanor replied. “She will answer your questions in a forthright manner and will hide nothing to my discredit. She is an honorable servant of God.”

The silence in the chambers grew as heavy as the lead roof over the adjacent chapel.

A loud knocking startled them.

Shocked and outraged over the accusations leveled at her mistress and Brother Thomas, Gracia was red-faced with anger when she ran for the door. Who had dared disobey her mistress’ order to be left in peace while she spoke with this priest? If she had had a broom, Gracia would have gladly swept the rude intruder away.

But the lay sister on the other side of the door fell to her knees and reached out in supplication. “Please, my lady!”

Eleanor hurried to the door. “What is it?”

The messenger’s face was gray. “The clerk, Jean!”

Davoir stepped forward. “What has happened? Speak!”

“He is dead.” The woman buried her face in her hands and wept.

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.”