Priscilla Royal - Chambers of Death

Eleanor glanced at the door behind them. It remained shut. “Were this king’s man as conscientious as our crowner, we would reveal all we know and let him find the killer. Based on my brief conversation with him, however, I think he lacks a certain integrity. Yet his high position in this county may cause many to be anxious about retaliation if they present evidence which does not suit his purpose. Fear of retaliation may shatter their honorable intentions and render them silent.”

Thomas still looked troubled.

“Yet you would be right to question me further, Brother. My ardor for probing deeper into the matter is partly born of my own sinful craving for retribution. This king’s man showed disrespect for my vocation before he knew my rank. If he has so little regard for the sanctity of a simple nun, he will show equal contempt for justice if it interferes with his ambition. The courtesy demanded by our position as guests may be affected by that.”

Thomas’ face flushed. “What did he do?”

“You had stepped away on my command,” she continued, answering his unspoken concern, “and thus could not have seen him grasp my arm, an indignity no man commits against a woman dedicated to God.” Her Latin now fell again into the cadence of chant. “But feel no anger on my behalf. Honor shall be assuaged if he is forced to look beyond his self-interest to find the murderer. As we had decided before, we need not solve the crime, but we must set him irrevocably on the path he should take, whatever direction he may prefer. The difference between our original intent and the current one is only the force with which we shall push him. That purpose can only succeed if we produce proof which he cannot hide and of sufficient strength that he cannot dispute it.”

“What do you wish of me, my lady?”

“First, examine the stable for any evidence since no one seems to have done that. Next, learn what gossip is about, for you are sleeping in the kitchen and have access to many of the servants here. Take care not to arouse suspicion in this and remember that someone wields a knife with stealth and efficiency. You must not fall victim to the killer.”

“And you, my lady? Will you also take care? I fear that you will not remain apart from these troubles.”

“Do I not have yon lout outside the door in constant attendance?” Eleanor sighed. “Yet he bears no blame for the duty he was commanded to perform. Perhaps he may even prove more useful in protecting me than stopping me from doing what this king’s man feared I might. You and I shall meet for prayer before breaking fast tomorrow, and we shall chant the Office as well as our findings in this matter of justice.”

As one they loudly sang, “Amen!”

Thomas carefully opened the chapel door, and the pair stepped outside. There was no sign that anyone had lingered outside to overhear, but Eleanor’s confidence in her assigned protection diminished when she looked at her guard.

All their caution to speak in a tongue he would not understand was unneeded.

The man was sound asleep.

“How does Mariota?” Eleanor shut the chamber door quietly behind her.

Maud raised a cautionary finger to her lips and signaled for the prioress to follow her out of the room. When the widow saw the sheriff’s man leaning against the wall outside, however, she stepped back in dismay.

“Nothing more untoward has occurred,” Eleanor said. “Sir Reimund ordered a guard to protect me until Tobye’s murderer is captured.” Her voice gave no hint of her opinion about this gesture.

The man yawned, then flushed with evident embarrassment when his still sleepy eyes focused on the widow. “I beg…”

Maud waved his attempted apology aside. “I know the lad,” she explained to the prioress. Her composure restored, she turned her back to the man and lowered her voice. “The girl’s fever has broken, but she remains perilously weak. The barley broth seemed to help, and I did persuade her to sip some made of chicken, a remedy I have found to be more effective against a fever than those made of other meat. Still, she has little appetite and strength. Just before you arrived, she fell asleep again. May God be thanked, however, her breathing is easier.”

“There is reason for optimism?”

“When a fever snaps, there is always cause to hope, but Death is most stubborn, as we all well know. His rattling breath is still loud in the room.”

Eleanor nodded. “I shall give you relief by taking my turn watching over her. Since morning, you have had no respite and must be very weary.”

“Have you broken your fast, my lady?”

Eleanor bristled at the woman’s question but quickly prayed for calmer humors to return. After the sheriff’s insolence, her pride ached as if suffering an open wound against which salt had just been rubbed. She had grown too sensitive, she decided. The question had been brusquely asked, but she could truly find no ill intent.

“I beg forgiveness if I caused offense, my lady.” Maud’s pink cheeks deepened in color as the prioress remained silent. “My husband used to chide me about my thoughtless speech.”

“No disrespect was noted. I was only lost in some trivial thought,” Eleanor replied, relieved by the apology. Not only was she grateful for the widow’s competent care of Mariota, as well as her intervention when they all staggered in from the storm, but Eleanor had always preferred blunt honesty to falsehood sweetened with honeyed phrase. “Kind intent is never thoughtless,” she added with a smile.

The widow exhaled in obvious relief.

“As for nourishment, perhaps you would share some bread with me.” Eleanor gestured toward the stairs leading below. “I would welcome your company, and I assume you trust the servant you left in the chambers to be competent in her care of my charge.”

“If I did not, I never would have let her…” Maud firmly shut her mouth.

“Nor did I have any cause to doubt your decision.”

The two women smiled at each other, relieved to be in perfect understanding.

Walking toward the stone stairs, Eleanor did not bother to look over her shoulder.

Indeed, her guard was close behind.

***

When the trio arrived in the hall downstairs, the widow ordered a servant to bring some ale with fresh bread and led the prioress to a trestle table set by the fireplace. Eleanor invited the young guard to share the offerings when the jug and platter were put down in front of them.

His stomach growling thanks to match his words, he clutched a handful of bread, a pottery mug filled with new ale, and cheerfully settled at the far end of the table. Munching loudly, he left the prioress and the widow to chatter away as he perhaps assumed all women, whatever their rank or vocation, were wont to do.

Maud shivered despite the merry fire that snapped close by. “I pray this murder will not cause fear to invade the hearts of you and your party, my lady. This should be a place of refuge and no one should suffer unease.” She gestured toward the hall door. “Not that there haven’t been quarrels enough in my memory, but no more than is usual between men and most certainly never a slaying. We may all sin, but we are not prone to breaking that particular commandment against killing other mortals!”

“And I pray that the steward will not regret his kindness, concluding that our arrival has cursed him and somehow brought this wickedness about.”

“Master Stevyn is not superstitious, my lady.” Her eyes twinkled. “Some might even reproach him for not having sufficient faith in spiritual things, although his first wife most certainly made up for any lack.”

“Earlier, Brother Thomas and I knelt by Tobye’s corpse for some time, praying for his soul. We hoped that God would look favorably on our feeble pleas for mercy. Was the man especially wicked? I ask in case we did not pray long or ardently enough.”