Priscilla Royal - Tyrant of the Mind

“What say you about his wife then?” Eleanor continued, her hand still resting on her father’s.

“As I promised you, I will be blunt. Sir Geoffrey has had problems with potency in this marriage. I had heard rumors that his wife has been less than understanding. Her youth may be blamed, perhaps, but there is tension between them.”

“Has he told you as much?”

This time, Adam did not bother to hide the flush of embarrassment. “He did confirm those rumors. In his cups one night at court, he told me that he has been unable to sustain his manhood with her. She has continued to share his bed but does nothing to help him as some wives…”

“I understand, father, but has she mocked him?”

“That she does not. As he has told me, she waits until it is clear he is impotent, then turns away from him and falls quickly to sleep, leaving him to suffer his humiliation alone.”

“Has she taken other men to her bed?”

“Sir Geoffrey feared such. He saw her tantalize other men in front of him as if he were not her husband. He confronted her. She claimed she meant nothing by it but youthful good spirits and gaiety, but he remained troubled. When he first arrived here for the marriage negotiations between our children, he suggested to me that he feared she had finally taken a lover, but he would not name him even when I pressed him to do so in confidence.”

Eleanor thought back to her own discussion with Isabelle. “Might he have thought Henry was the one? They were of an age and once believed they would marry.”

“That I doubt,” Adam replied instantly. “Even before you told me of the rape, it was obvious to all that she wished to avoid Henry. It was Henry who was pushing his attentions on her. I saw it, as did Robert. She had taken a dislike to her old playmate after her marriage.”

Eleanor said nothing but wondered once more if the rape might be good reason for Isabelle to have killed Henry. Had he tried to force her again? Might he have told her of some plan he had to void her marriage to his father? Had Sir Geoffrey found out and tried to protect her, overprotection perhaps for a woman he could not pleasure but whom he did seem to love for his own reasons. After all, he did believe that he had been potent with her once.

“We seem to be wandering in circles, child. You have presented good reasons for reducing the number of suspects to three. Now I wonder where you would have us go from here?” Adam asked, looking over at his daughter.

Eleanor sat back, then turned to Sister Anne. “Before I answer, I must first ask: how does my lord of Lavenham?”

“Weak but gaining strength, my lady. He is a strong man and I rather think he will recover from his wound unless gangrene appears.”

“In that case,” Eleanor said, turning to her father, “hear my plan.”

Bright dots of red splotched Sir Geoffrey’s cheeks, a macabre contrast to the almost luminous pallor of the rest of his face. Sitting next to his bed on a stool was Isabelle. Juliana stood just behind her stepmother, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Behind the baron was Anne. Eleanor stood to one side of her father. They all faced the knight.

“I know how you love your grandson, Adam, but the boy lies.” Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed in anger as he looked at his old friend.

Adam now flushed an angry color. “After all these years, you must surely know that indulgence in blind emotion has never been one of my flaws. Nor have I become such an old fool that I cannot see the flaws in those I love. It was I who assumed Robert’s guilt in your attack.”

“It was I who said he could not have done it. I have always believed in your son’s innocence, but your grandson is a child with a child’s imagination. Perhaps he did not mean to lie. Perhaps he believes he saw something he only made up. Or perhaps he saw someone he did not know and thought he had seen me.”

“I will not argue with you, my friend. Let us go on to what is most important here. Who did this deed to you?”

“I do not know.”

“You were stabbed in the chest, not from behind. You must have seen who did it.”

“It happened so quickly, Adam! I was walking behind the stables where I could find some solitude, deep in thought about the plight of your good son, when I heard a sound. I looked up. I saw something move toward me from the shadows. There was little light, as surely you noted yourself. Before I could react, I felt the pain and remember nothing more. If my son had enemies, they were not mine. Why should I fear an attack on me at Wynethorpe Castle? I was surprised, ambushed as we would have said in the old days when we were comrades-in-arms.” Sir Geoffrey smiled weakly but with fondness at Adam. “I never saw the face or even the figure of the man who did it.”

There was a knock at the wooden door. Sister Anne went to open it and Thomas entered the room. He whispered something in her ear and she beckoned to Eleanor.

Adam turned and looked angrily at the three. “What is it? I will have no whispering here!”

Eleanor’s hand fluttered to her heart. “My lord, perhaps we have good reason…” Her voice was as tremulous as her gesture.

“Silence, child! This is my domain, and, as I breathe, I am the lord and master here. What means this mumbling?”

Eleanor bowed her head in meek obedience. “My lord, Father Anselm has just awakened. It seems he has recovered wits, speech, and his memory.”

“That is good news!” Adam said, looking down at Geoffrey. “Perhaps he can give us a clue to the monster who is attacking good people at Wynethorpe.”

Eleanor nodded to Thomas, who stepped forward. “That he can, my lord,” he said.

Geoffrey looked quickly at his wife, his dark eyes widening.

“He saw who pushed him?” Adam asked.

“More than that.” Thomas shifted nervously and looked down at his feet.

“Out with it, man! This is no time for monkish meekness. Who?” Adam shouted.

Thomas coughed and looked sheepishly at Eleanor.

“Speak, brother. You have my permission,” she replied, her lips set in a grim line.

“He did not see who pushed him, but he did see who murdered Henry.”

Adam strode over to Thomas, put his hands on the monk’s shoulders and shook him. “Who, monk? Who killed Henry?”

“My lord, I hesitate to say.”

“Must I lock you up? Perhaps a few days in the dark of the keep will speed your decision to speak…”

“Father!”

Thomas paled. “There is no need, my lord. Father Anselm was at the chamber door of the murderer when he was attacked. The person who killed Henry was the Lady Isabelle.”

***

Isabelle’s scream rent the air.

Sir Geoffrey, his mouth open in silent horror, reached out to grasp his wife’s hand, then fell back, groaning in agony from his wound.

The Lady Isabelle stood, one hand shaking as she extended it in supplication. With the other, she clutched the fabric of her dress over her heart. “My lords…” she began in a whisper, looking in terror first at her husband, then at Adam, and then at Eleanor.

Juliana stepped forward. As she did so, she turned and caressed her stepmother’s face, tucking a loose strand of fair hair back under her wimple. “Hush, my lady,” she said in a soft voice. “You have nothing to fear.” She looked around at the staring eyes of the assembled group. “Innocent people must no longer suffer from the terrors of this mystery. I had hoped Robert would be found innocent of Henry’s murder. After the attack on Father Anselm, I thought he would be released for he could not have done such a thing from his prison cell. Then I hoped the attack on my father would gain the good man’s freedom at last. Indeed, Robert should not have suffered but for the accident of finding my brother’s corpse, and I never would have allowed him to die for something he did not do.”