Priscilla Royal - Tyrant of the Mind

“I had had a confrontation with Henry before the midday meal which our father broke up.”

Thomas nodded.

“That you were a witness to as well.” Robert’s look darkened, although the monk could not tell if the cause was anger or fear.

“By accident, my lord. I swear it,” Thomas answered quickly. “I was not spying on you,” he added, his tone gentle.

“Indeed, I am grateful you were there. Such witnessing may lend verity to the rest of my tale. At that time, as you saw, Henry continued his crude jesting with his stepmother. Later, he and I had, but for the presence of you, brother, been ready to draw arms against each other again. Why he was in the ward at such a late hour, I cannot say. I had been making plans to feed our livestock with this heavy snow upon us and was just returning to the barracks. Perhaps he and I had been too much in each other’s company the last few days, but it seemed we could not bear the sight of one another yesterday without fire sparking tinder. After I left him the second time, my spirit was sufficiently disturbed that I could not sleep.”

“A reasonable thing, my lady,” Thomas blurted out.

Remembering Thomas’ own history of nocturnal wanderings at inopportune times, she nodded. “Indeed, I doubt it not. Go on.”

“I decided to visit our father and seek his advice. He is often up before cock’s crow, and I thought we might talk about the marriage and Henry’s difficulties over it, as well as how I should handle the discord with my future brother-in-law. As I climbed the stairs to the quarters, I heard low voices. I stopped, not wanting to invade the privacy of, well, perhaps some lovers who did not want their tryst known. Then the voices stopped and, after waiting a bit, I continued up the stairs to the hall. I reached the top but saw no one. Suddenly, I tripped in the shadows and fell. My hands landed in something wet and sticky. After I picked myself up, I could see they were stained dark. When I smelled the metallic odor, I knew they were bathed in blood.”

“Are you saying there was no light but moonlight? When Father Anselm and I passed through, the rushes were dim but lit,” Thomas noted.

“They must have gone out before I arrived. It was quite dark with the snow falling and all windows barred shut. I did not know I had tripped on Henry’s body so I felt for what had caused me to fall. At first I thought it might be a large animal, a dog perhaps, but quickly realized the shape was that of a man. The body was warm still, but I could not tell who it was. I thought two drunken soldiers might have strayed into the family quarters, an easy enough thing to do, then gotten into a fight where one had fled after wounding his fellow.”

“How did you light the rushes?” Eleanor asked.

Robert hesitated. “When I stood up, Isabelle was standing in the door. She had a candle in her hand and reached out to give it to me. I lit the rushes with that, then knelt to see who was lying on the floor. I saw to my horror that it was Henry and the dagger lay beside him. I picked it up. Why I did that, I cannot say. Everything seemed so like a dream. I could not believe what was before me. As I took the knife into my hand, the lady screamed. I froze in horror as I looked down at the blood, which had also soaked into my clothes from my fall on the body. He must have been bleeding freely still. Then the next thing I heard was your voice, Eleanor. The servants grabbed me. You know the rest.”

“You saw no one else, heard nothing, not even the echo of footsteps running away? No glimpse of a garment?” Eleanor asked.

Robert shook his head wearily.

They were all silent for a while, then Eleanor looked over at Thomas. “You are lost in thought, brother.”

“Aye, my lady.” He turned to Robert. “You say you saw no one yet you had heard voices, perhaps lovers you thought. You must have had reason to conclude that the voices were those of a man and a woman.”

“I did not recognize them and cannot be certain one of the voices was that of a woman. The pitch of one voice may have been somewhat higher. That is all. Now that you ask me, I cannot say for sure that it was not two men.”

As he watched Robert lower his head and look down at his feet, Thomas was sure he was lying. The man was not practiced enough at deceit to look another directly in the eye while he twisted the truth.

Once again, Robert’s shoulders slumped with fatigue and hopelessness.

Eleanor reached over and hugged her brother. “You must rest. Perhaps more details will come to mind later. In the meantime, I will send for clean clothes and enough warm water to bathe away the blood you are not guilty of shedding.” As she stood, she nodded at Thomas. “Please stay a while and bring my brother some comfort for his soul. Then we must all pray that we find the truth before this storm ceases and we must send for the sheriff to take my brother away to crueler lodgings.”

Thomas watched his prioress’ brother lean back on his heels and cross himself. Robert had just finished his confession but had said nothing that would guarantee him a greater place in Hell than any other mortal man.

He had denied the murder. He had denied even wishing Henry dead, although he grieved over his desire to do him at least some bodily harm for insults he had made against the Lady Juliana and for the death of Hywel, an accident Sir Geoffrey had explained was the result of Henry’s thoughtlessness. The nature of the insults against his betrothed he had refused to specify lest they befoul the reputation of the lady. Even with the shadow of a hangman’s rope swinging above his head, Robert of Wynethorpe was a most chivalrous man.

“You will feel better after you have gotten a tub for bathing and clean clothes, my lord,” Thomas said at last.

Robert’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You are kind, my friend, kinder than my condition warrants.”

“One may be kind to a guilty man for the judgment of God is nigh. An innocent man deserves courteous treatment.”

“Do you not believe that I am innocent of Henry’s murder, Thomas? Your tone is harsh.”

“Then you misread the meaning. I cannot believe that a man would lie in confession, knowing he could never deceive God and must soon face Him. That aside, I do believe you are innocent, yet my opinion means little while the truly guilty remains hidden. The harshness you hear in my tone is from worry. I pray the murderer may be discovered ere long.”

Robert turned away. “Perhaps the killer has already made confession to his priest.” He hesitated. “Has no one ever lied to you in confession?”

“If anyone ever has, I would not be the one to suffer. Whether or not a man chooses to hide his sins from me is irrelevant. God’s justice will always prevail.”

“Of that I have no doubt, but, since I am still of this world, I find comfort that you have faith in my innocence.”

Thomas smiled. “Aye, Robert, that I do. I do not think you killed him.”

“I did not murder him,” Robert said quickly, then fell silent. “Had I done so, I would have confessed that.”

Thomas blinked. Was there some significance in his friend’s choice of words? “Can you tell me nothing more about what you saw and heard?”

Robert stared into space, his brows furrowed with thought. “Nay.”

“Think on it carefully. Might you not have seen someone when you entered the hall outside the chambers Sir Geoffrey shared with his wife? Something you saw that seemed but a shadow at the time? Your life is in the balance, Robert. Give me even the thinnest thread to follow!”

Robert stood and walked over to the basin of water that Thomas had put on a small table. For a long moment, he dabbled his fingers in it, staring as the water circled around them. “Nothing,” he said, his whispered voice hoarse.