The Prioress’ Tale (25 page)

Lady Eleanor was still sitting where Frevisse had last seen her, eyes shut, Margrete beside her now. Margrete nodded to Frevisse without speaking and Frevisse nodded silently back, but Lady Eleanor stayed behind her closed eyes, sitting very upright and very still. Her help had not been needed with the body, but there should be kin present while the last worldly things were done for the dead, and although Benet was kin, Lady Eleanor held memories of Sir Reynold for more years of his life than anyone else at the priory and so she had kept him company through this last while, despite what it had obviously cost her. Frevisse looked to Dame Claire, silently asking how it was with her, if anything should be done; and Dame Claire as silently answered with a shake of her head that there was nothing.

Knowing that Dame Claire would on the instant leave the dead to fend for themselves if there was aught she could do for the living, Frevisse accepted that and went to stand over Sir Reynold’s body.

Her first thought was that there seemed to be so much less of him than there had been when he was alive. It was something she had thought before when faced with the dead, but used though she was to the diminishing of death, it still disconcerted her. The soul was incorporeal, but the body was reduced to such irrelevance by its going. Did the soul, when it went free in death, come to forget the body that had belonged to it? Was that something of how it was with Sister Thomasine? Were her austerities of prayer and fasting not so much a denial of her body as simply that her soul had begun to forget her body too soon? Poor body, forgotten while it still lived.

With Sir Reynold it was the other way around—poor soul, driven out of the body before it was ready.

Benet and Lewis had nearly finished cleansing the body, the task more awkward because of the stiffness still in it. Benet was wringing out a cloth into one of the basins; Lewis was pressing another cloth, dripping wet, to Sir Reynold’s lower left chest, over what Frevisse presumed was the wound, soaking loose the blood, she supposed. She gestured at it and said to Dame Claire, “The blood was dried.”

“Dried. Darkened,” Dame Claire agreed.

“He’s been dead all night?”

“Allowing for everything, the body’s stiffening and the cold and the blood, yes, I’d warrant he was dead most of the night.”

“May I see the wound?” Frevisse asked.

Lewis and Benet both jerked up their heads to stare at her.

Dame Claire, with quiet authority, bid them, “Let her see whatever she wants.”

Lewis uncertainly drew back his hand, removing the cloth and uncovering the wound.

Frevisse took a closer look than she wanted to at the gash with its curled lips of darkened flesh reaching from beside Sir Reynold’s breastbone around almost to his side, a narrow slash but four or five inches long. A desecration of flesh.

“The wound in his back,” she said, holding her voice steady. “Let me see that, too.”

Benet and Lewis looked at Dame Claire who again nodded and carefully they rolled Sir Reynold’s body to its side and almost over, holding it for her to see the other wound.

It was much like the one in the front but with the sliced flesh dragged outward by the withdrawing blade. She had been assuming he had been struck from behind because of how he had been lying and because it was unlikely he would have gone down so silently, so easily as he must have, if he had known the blow was coming. Now she could be sure.

But she could also see now that he had not been killed by a simple sword thrust. Front and back, the wound was too wide for that. He had been run through the body, and probably through the heart in the same stroke, by a long blade, that was certain; but then the sword must have been wrenched sideways hard enough, far enough, that the spine was probably at least partly severed in the bargain. If it was, it meant someone with a great deal of strength had wanted to be very sure of Sir Reynold’s death.

“His spine, is it cut through?” she asked.

Dame Claire knelt and felt into the wound. Benet jerked his head away to stare at the wall. Lewis looked at the roof beams.

“Not completely through,” Dame Claire said, withdrawing her fingers, “but it’s deeply cut, yes.”

“You can lay him down now,” Frevisse said and Benet and Lewis gratefully did. “Thank you,” she thought to add, her mind already away to what else she might learn here.

Behind her in the doorway Domina Alys asked hoarsely, “He’s not shrouded yet?”

Frevisse faced her as Dame Claire moved toward her, saying, “No, my lady. We—”

Domina Alys cut her off, turning away. “Call me when it’s done.”

Not wanting to, Frevisse followed her into the cloister walk. She had to question her sometime; sooner would be better and it might as well be now, before she found another reason not to do it.

Father Henry and Katerin were waiting outside uncertainly, but Domina Alys was walking past them without word, back toward her stairs, moving heavily, unsteadily, as if her mind were paying too scant attention to what her body did.

“My lady,” Frevisse said.

Domina Alys turned around. In the parlor her back had been to the light and Frevisse had not seen her clearly. Out here, with daylight now fully come, her face showed haggard, hollow, as if both anger and excess words were presently drained out of her. Coldly, unencouraging, she said, “Dame.”

There was no subtle way to go about it, no way that would make it easier on either Domina Alys or herself.

Frevisse asked bluntly, “Sir Reynold came to see you last night?”

Domina Alys stared at her dully, without any overt feeling before answering, “You’re after who did this to him, aren’t you? You. Still alive while he’s dead.” Frevisse, chilled, stood still, not knowing what to answer, more chilled as Domina Alys’ look deepened to a dull glare. “But better you than some fool of a crowner. Yes, he came after Compline, when Godard was dead.”

Father Henry shifted uneasily. Domina Alys swung her head and fixed him with a stare, and he pointed uncertainly at the nuns just now leaving the refectory. Almost apologizing, he said, “It’s time for Mass.” And past time; breakfast had taken far longer than was necessary over what was always very little food, and now they were hesitating in the walk, seeing their prioress, not sure which way to go. She twitched an uncaring glance toward them, jerked a hand to send them on toward the church, and said at Father Henry, “So go. Do it.”

Not hiding his relief, Father Henry went. Frevisse wished she could go with him. Domina Alys’ coldness of control where there should have been a rage of grief was worse to face than her familiar rage would have been, and to have it over with, Frevisse asked straight out, “Was it only you and Sir Reynold last night?”

“Don’t be a fool,” Domina Alys said as if it hardly mattered whether she was or not. “Sir Hugh came with him. And Katerin was there.”

Katerin bobbed a little in pleasure at hearing her name. How much she grasped of what had happened, either last night or this morning, Frevisse could not be sure but asked her carefully, not to startle her, “Katerin, do you remember last night?”

Katerin stopped bobbing to stare at her, mouth a little open, then said, “Yes.”

“What do you remember?”

Katerin thought again.

Frevisse prompted, “About last night.”

“It was night. We slept,” Katerin said. She nodded, more certain of it. “We slept.”

“Before you slept, do you remember anything? Do you remember what happened before you slept?”

It took a moment, but then Katerin’s face clouded. “They were angry.”

“Who was?” Frevisse asked.

“We all were,” Domina Alys said. “Before it was done we all were. Don’t set her off on it. She frightens when folk are angry. She’ll lose what wits she has if you make her think about it.”

“Angry,” Katerin said mournfully. “He was angry and then he went away.”

“Who went away?” Frevisse asked.

“Sir Hugh,” Domina Alys interrupted curtly. “She means Hugh went away angry. He was quarreling with Reynold. We were both quarreling with Reynold. Everyone quarrels… quarreled with Reynold.”

Katerin wailed softly, “Angry.”

“Be quiet,” Domina Alys said. “Nobody’s angry now.”

Katerin went quiet.

“Quarreled about what?” Frevisse asked.

“About what?” Domina Alys said, contemptuous of her ignorance. “About what he’s been doing. I said he couldn’t stay here after what he’d done, that it would bring too much trouble down on us, and Hugh agreed with me, and he and Reynold quarreled over it. He was even purposing to bring in more men, no matter that I said he couldn’t.”

“And Sir Hugh was against that? They were quarreling about it?”

“Don’t you listen, Dame? Yes, they were quarreling. I was quarreling. We’d have had open war with the Fenners on our hands, the way Reynold was going.”

So she had known about the Fenners. For how long? Frevisse wondered.

But Domina Alys, lost in a strange mixture of grief and rousing anger, was going on, “Hugh at least could see it. He understood. He’s not the fool Reynold is. Was.”

The twitch of tense distracted her. She paused, the thread of her anger lost. “Was,” she repeated slowly, with a denying shake of her head as if she could not make it real, and went on, the anger gone, “So Reynold turned all arrogant and set to insulting him. Once Reynold starts that, there’s no reasoning with him until he’s worn it out, so Hugh left, thinking I’d have a better chance at bringing him around alone.”

“And did you?” Frevisse asked.

“Bring Reynold around?” Domina Alys made a small, sad sound that might have been, sometime, a laugh. “There’s never been any bringing Reynold around. He was set on his Fenner baiting. So I told him to take his men and be out of here. Today. I told him I didn’t want him in St. Frideswide’s any longer.”

“He agreed to that?”

“Agreed?” Domina Alys bit down on the word with distant bitterness. “No. He didn’t agree.”

“And then?”

“He left. He just left.”

“And you didn’t see him again.”

Domina Alys shook her head, her mind somewhere else. “No,” she said. “No. Not alive.” Careful in her persistence, Frevisse asked, “How long was it between when Sir Hugh went and Sir Reynold?”

“A while. Not long.” Vaguely, Domina Alys said, “Or it might have been. Who tells time when they’re arguing?” Her eyes focused, narrowed, as she finally heard what she was saying, what she had been asked, and with something of her familiar sharpness said, “Listen, Dame, don’t go trying to make out Hugh for Reynold’s murderer. The quarreling is nothing. They always quarrel. Reynold is… Reynold was—” She stopped again, tangled, then swept a hand at the air in front of her as if to push away something there and went on, “That’s all there was. Just that and no more. Now leave me alone.”

She moved toward the parlor door, back to Sir Reynold, as she spoke, and Frevisse stepped out of her way but asked as she did, “Why wasn’t the outer door barred last night?”

Domina Alys stopped, baffled a moment, then said, “That’s Katerin’s task. To see them out and bar the door.”

“But she didn’t last night.”

“She was too frightened by all the anger. I didn’t make her go.”

“Angry,” Katerin said unhappily.

“So the door was never barred last night,” Frevisse persisted.

Domina Alys started forward again. “She didn’t want to go and neither did I and I told her it didn’t matter. Now nothing matters,” she said and was gone into the parlor, her head sunk heavily between her shoulders as if she were facing a fight she expected to lose. Katerin, with a whimper, scurried after her, and Frevisse let them go, hesitant over what she could ask next and with no questions just now for Lady Eleanor either as she came out of the parlor a moment later. With the slightest of weary nods, looking as if she had no strength for more, she acknowledged Frevisse was there but did not speak and Frevisse nodded back as silently and let her go on toward her room, Margrete following her.

Benet coming out with his arms full of Sir Reynold’s ruined clothing and Lewis after him, carrying Sir Reynold’s sheathed sword and sword belt, were a different matter. Intent on what they carried, they went past with small bows of the head but Frevisse followed them, stopped them before they reached the passageway, and said, “You’re finished, then.”

They faced her and Benet nodded. “He’s shrouded now. Dame Claire said there’s a coffin somewhere, that someone in the guest halls will know where it is.”

“The loft of the carpentry shop for a guess,” Frevisse said. There was always a coffin ready. Death came so very easily for so many reasons—illness, accident, old age—that it was well always to have one to hand.

“Before you go, I need to talk to you, to both of you.”

He and Lewis exchanged looks, to see if either of them knew why she wanted that.

“About Sir Reynold,” she said, and went on before they could realize they could refuse her. “After Sir Reynold and Sir Hugh came to see Domina Alys last night, did Sir Reynold come back to the guest hall?”

They both looked puzzled and Lewis answered, “No, he was killed.”

“He didn’t come back to the guest hall and then return here later?”

“Why would he do that?” Lewis asked blankly.

Frevisse could think of no reason he would, but she had wanted to be rid of the possibility that he had left the cloister after quarreling with Domina Alys and come back later, been followed and killed. If that looked to be the way of it, it would have complicated things more than they already were, but it seemed he had not and she asked, “You didn’t wonder why Sir Reynold didn’t come back to the hall last night?”

“Why are you asking all this?” Benet demanded.

“Someone killed Sir Reynold. We have to find out who it was.”

“It was that mason,” Lewis said bitterly.

“But best to be certain past doubt,” Frevisse said. “If we can find when people were where, then maybe we can find who wasn’t where they were supposed to be when Sir Reynold died, and likely that will be our murderer.”

Benet and Lewis exchanged looks again but said nothing. In hopes that meant acceptance, Frevisse repeated, “You didn’t wonder why Sir Reynold didn’t come back?” and Lewis answered, “Before he left, he told me I could go to sleep if I wanted to. He thought he’d be a long while because he was going to have to argue her around, he said, and when he didn’t come back soon, I went to sleep.”