Priscilla Royal - Chambers of Death

The prioress realized she had been lost in her thoughts too long. “The sons are so very different…”

“She favored Ranulf, of course. He took after her in his piety, and she showered him with praise, especially when he wailed over his sins. As for my Huet, he was not so inclined to prayer, being a boisterous lad much like his father, and thus he seldom found the comfort of a mother’s arms.”

How hard this must have been for Mistress Maud, Eleanor thought, hearing the woman’s pain as she described what maternal warmth each boy had received. “Then you saw your son on occasion?” she chose to ask.

“Before Huet’s birth, my husband and I were invited to join in feasts to celebrate God’s grace, or when sickness attacked the manor tenants. That practice continued afterward. If my husband had no immediate need of my services with herbs, Master Stevyn’s wife let me play with my son and did not take it ill when Huet ran to me when I opened my arms.”

And thus the steward’s wife did demonstrate an even more unusual kindness, Eleanor acknowledged. The lady knew she did not have room enough in her own arms for the little boy, but she did not prevent Mistress Maud from giving him what she could not. Many women would not have dealt with this situation so. “The deception seems to have been skillfully performed to remain secret, but how was the matter of Huet’s birth handled?”

“When I could no longer conceal my quickening, I moved away on the excuse that a far-away cousin required my care. Master Stevyn’s wife pretended a pregnancy at the same time and, when I sent news that my time had come, she took a short journey so that she might feign birthing some distance away. My babe was smuggled in by a loyal servant, her sole attendant, and thus became hers.”

“This servant…?”

“She was well rewarded but died of a fever many years ago. The pretense was successful.”

“Did no one question that a woman who was so frail might give birth to such a healthy child and suffer no further ill-effects herself?”

Maud’s lips turned into a sad smile. “She was most devout, and all assumed that God had performed a miracle, much as he did for the aged wife of Abraham, and blessed her with one last son.”

Eleanor nodded, unsure whether she should condemn such deceit or conclude that God had been kind to the babe by allowing him to stay with a father who loved him and a woman who was willing enough to show kindness if not love. “You had no further issue yourself?”

“God punished me for my sins, and I never bore another child during the years when I was able.”

“Were you not married at the time of Huet’s birth?”

Maud rose and walked over to the bed where Hilda lay. Gently she stroked the cook’s ashen cheek and sighed, a sound troubled enough to match the wounded woman’s rasping breath. “Aye. My husband was much older than I and a better man than I deserved, my lady, one for whom I felt much affection and gratitude even if my heart resided with another and my body sinned.”

“How could your husband not know of this? He was a physician and thus not easily fooled about such matters.”

“Did he know?’ She faced the prioress, her smile twisted with self-contempt. “As you suggested, he must have, but he never spoke of my long absence, nor did he question me about a cousin whom he had never before heard mentioned. When I returned home at long last, he greeted me at the entrance to our house, his bearing formal and proud, but his eyes filled with tears. My wretched heart broke, and I cried out to him. Before I could beg his forgiveness, he touched a finger to his lips, took my hand in his, and led me into the house. Once inside, I fell to my knees and wept, swearing I would never leave his side again, one promise I did faithfully keep. He never once spoke of that absence, nor did he condemn me for any sin.”

“And you were still married when Master Stevyn’s first wife died.” Eleanor’s remark was less a question than an observation.

“My husband did not die until after Master Stevyn had married Mistress Luce.”

“A young woman who could give him more sons,” Eleanor said. “Did you think he might confess Huet’s bastardy if he had other, legitimate issue?”

Maud’s cheeks flushed. “Our adulterous union might suggest we are faithless in honoring all oaths, but I did not doubt that Master Stevyn loved our son. When my husband and I visited the manor, I saw much evidence of Huet’s place in his father’s heart. He would never have cast our lad out.”

Eleanor joined the widow at Hilda’s side. Looking down, she observed a tinge of pink now coloring the cook’s cheeks and feared a fever had set in. She quickly offered a silent prayer for God’s mercy. “There are many tales about Mistress Luce’s infidelity. Some say she longed too much for a child, a babe her husband did not seed in her quickly enough, and thus played the whore,” she said, her thoughts returning to the current discussion. “What do you know of those rumors?”

“I have no right to give credence to any stories nor to criticize.”

The prioress shook her head. “I am not indulging in idle gossip; rather I seek reasons for why murder was committed. As for the pointing of self-righteous fingers, no mortal is so blameless that any have the right to cast stones. That said, observations lacking in malice are not sinful. Please tell me yours.”

“It was well-known that Mistress Luce and Tobye were lovers, yet he was unmarried and she…In truth, I can think of no one who has a greater motive for killing Mistress Luce than I.”

Eleanor raised her eyebrows.

Maud took a deep breath. “I was angry, bitter, and jealous when I learned that Master Stevyn had taken such a young woman to his bed, but after my worthy husband gave up his soul to God so suddenly that I could not send his spirit off with a final kiss, I knew He was punishing me for my sins. All my evil thoughts melted into grief while I mourned the loss of that honorable spouse.” She briefly covered her eyes. “Had I wished to kill Mistress Luce, my lady, I surely would have done so after the marriage, not waited until now. Master Stevyn has since regretted the choice of wife, and I have armored my soul against Satan’s pricking.”

“Why were you here when I arrived?” As much as Eleanor wished to believe this woman, there remained too many details, still inadequately explained, that troubled her.

“You have reason to ask that question, my lady. Not long ago, Mistress Luce’s behavior changed and she grew quite erratic. As I learned, she would be melancholic and refuse to share a bed with her husband one night, but the next might swell with wild lust and beg to couple with him most wantonly. Master Stevyn feared illness, perhaps even possession or madness. When he questioned her during one of her calmer moments, she claimed to have quickened. He begged me to attend her for the sake of her health as well as that of any child.”

The prioress gave her a look so incredulous that it needed no other statement.

Maud nodded. “Of course, I knew I should not come, but my husband had been the only physician nearby and he had died. Under his guidance, I have gained some small reputation as a healer and had often acted as midwife. For all his faults, Master Stevyn is not a cruel man and wished each of his wives to receive the best care possible. Thus I did agree to attend Mistress Luce, but only after I told him that my own door would be firmly barred at night.”

“An oath you kept?” Eleanor’s look was skeptical.

Her cheeks reddened. “Despite the firm resolve with which I locked that door, I silenced my conscience one evening and welcomed him to share wine and then my bed. Master Stevyn and I may no longer have youthful bodies, but we should have realized that aging flesh may still spark with lust. Leading us into temptation was easy enough labor for the Devil.”