Priscilla Royal - Chambers of Death

Yet the possibility of a new lover might be important as well. If Luce had found a replacement for Tobye, was he another man of low rank? Or might he have been Huet, someone else Constance disdained? If so, the revelation of such great sin between two people she hated would certainly give her great satisfaction.

As much as Eleanor hoped such a relationship did not exist, she was forced to consider the possibility. Huet had not demonstrated any interest in Luce, while her attentions to him were of questionable nature. Was it all quite innocent or was he simply better at dissemblance than she? He had proven his talent at that when he entertained them by skillfully imitating the ways of several different people. She could not discount the relationship as completely as she wished, and, although many had gathered to see the excitement surrounding Luce’s hanging, Huet was notably missing. Was that absence meaningful? Unable to come to any conclusion in that matter, she went on to consider another problem.

How had Constance learned that her mother-in-law was going to the stable at that hour? Although it seemed unlikely, Eleanor did wonder if Ranulf’s wife had actually been told by Mistress Luce. Might she even have been the visitor for whom the second cup had been brought by that rude servant?

Eleanor doubted the two women were ever in each other’s company, unless some event or custom demanded it, and was thus inclined to dismiss the idea of such a meeting. There was little enough privacy in any dwelling, and much was overheard that ought not to have been. It was possible that Constance had listened in on some conversation meant to be private or had accidentally overheard it.

When the prioress tried to discover why she had gone to the stable, however, the woman had retreated into terrified moans. Even though Eleanor rephrased her questions to gently include promises of God’s forgiveness, Constance had cried out in tremulous voice that she must go to the chapel for prayer before she spoke any more to mortals. Without pausing for more than the conventional courtesy, she had then pushed past the prioress, mumbling that she might seek her later, and rushed away,

The entire encounter had been bewildering to say the least-and yet so promising.

***

As the prioress climbed the stone stairs to the chambers above the main hall, she set aside all thoughts of Mistress Constance and concentrated on her next problem. How might she handle the examination of Luce’s corpse with the physician’s widow, a situation fraught with its own difficulties?

Eleanor bade her guard remain without, then entered the room where the body had been taken. The steward’s dead wife lay on the top of a large storage chest, her body both naked and still filthy. Someone had put lit candles around the corpse, both for light and to mask the stench of body waste. Nearby, on a small table, there was a basin of water that sat in front of a crude wooden cross, resting against the wall.

Mistress Maud knelt beside the corpse.

Apprehensive in the presence of a woman she liked but could not disregard as a murderer, the prioress left the chamber door open and walked to the widow’s side.

“What is your opinion on the manner of her death?”

“Murder is a cruel act. We all should have the chance to cleanse our souls before dying, and her sins were no worse than those of many others. She did not deserve such lack of mercy.”

“Then you conclude she was murdered?”

“Your monk was most observant. Indeed, he is as clever as he is handsome.” Maud smiled.

The smile was infectious, and the prioress returned it despite the grim discussion and her chaste vocation. “Why do you agree with him?”

“As Brother Thomas noted, someone attempting self-murder usually repents as soon as he begins to choke and tries to save himself by loosening the noose or trying to climb the rope to safety. There are no scratches around her neck from fingernails, nor are there rope burns on her palms. I think she was dead when hanged.” Maud brushed her hand over the corpse’s eyelids to shut them. “And the one who killed her was a poor dissembler.”

“How do you know such things?”

“A fair question. Have you seen men hanged for their crimes?”

“A common enough event,” Eleanor replied. “On my travels outside the priory, I have passed by gibbets where the condemned still danced in the air as well as those left as fodder for birds.” What she did not say was that the sight troubled her and she had never stopped to stare.

The widow fell silent and tears began to flow down her cheeks. “They claw at their necks…”

The prioress touched her arm in comfort.

“Forgive me, my lady,” Maud said, rubbing her cheeks dry. “I also accompanied my husband when he was summoned to examine those who died by their own hand as well as at the hand of others. Being a weak woman, I did not have his strength to look on their faces without emotion. Yet…” She straightened her shoulders and went on, pointing to Luce’s neck. “Now look here.”

Eleanor could not help thinking that the widow was showing courage enough now. Was it because she disliked the dead woman, or perhaps had even killed her? Or had she simply mustered the strength of will because a knowledgeable eye was required? The prioress bent to look at the two marks Mistress Maud was indicating.

“See this bruise? And the one here?” She shifted the body so Eleanor could see the back of Luce’s neck. “See how my hands might almost fit the marks? And the rope burn is minimal. It does not cut as deeply as it would if she had leapt from the loft and let the noose take the full weight of her falling body. I would say that Mistress Luce was strangled, then hanged to hide the finger marks.”

Eleanor knew she must consider whether or not this woman was the killer. As argument in favor of that conclusion, the prioress noted that Maud’s appearance in the stable had been swift, yet her entrance unseen. The widow might be Huet’s lover, however she had never exhibited any greater affection for Mistress Luce than had Constance. The steward’s wife had also ordered Maud from the land, a command that had been blatantly ignored.

Against such a supposition, the prioress knew that few murderers would be so willing to argue that a body, which might yet be deemed a suicide, was the victim of foul play. And were she to take heed of her own observations, Eleanor would conclude that the bruises were too far apart to fit the span of Maud’s fingers no matter how she stretched them.

Taking a deep breath, Eleanor decided to trust her instinct and believe this woman to be innocent. The elimination of even one suspect was progress. As for the value of Maud’s testimony in law, it might not be taken with the seriousness granted a man of like background, but Brother Thomas would listen to her and give weight to her conclusions by taking them on as his own.

“You know everyone at this manor, Mistress. Who do you think had cause to kill the groom, attack the cook, and now murder the steward’s wife? Proof is still required for any finding of guilt, but your considered opinion might help bring a swifter end to these horrors.”

Maud stepped back from the body and turned her face to the window as if seeking some guidance from the light outside.

Eleanor continued to press for an answer. “I know Sir Reimund would prefer to find the slayer amongst the servants, but I fear the culprit may be of higher birth than that.”

She studied Maud, longing to read some hint of an answer in her expression. But the widow would not meet her eyes and remained as motionless as Lot’s wife when she was turned into the pillar of salt.

“Forgive me if I impugn an innocent, but I must ask if Master Stevyn might have committed all or one of the killings.”