Priscilla Royal - Wine of Violence

As Simeon came up, panting, Thomas forced the captive onto his back. Staring back at him was the face of Brother John.

“He tried to kill Prioress Eleanor,” Simeon puffed.

“Wine for all, please, Gytha. It is no luxury today,” Eleanor said, her voice echoing in her ears with more steadiness than she felt. “Even I will have some, albeit well-watered.” The pallor of her face matched that of the morning light coming through her chamber window, but Eleanor sat with back straight as she looked at Simeon and Thomas, sitting on stools in front of her. Their faces were gray from lack of sleep and from the shadow of beards yet unshaven.

Sister Anne sat in silence next to the prioress, her eyes staring at the floor, her back hunched as if in pain.

Crowner Ralf paced.

“He refuses to confess to anything, my lady.” Ralf took the goblet from Gytha and drank deeply. “He refuses to speak at all.”

Simeon waved away any water for his wine. “This is no longer your concern, Crowner. Brother John falls under the jurisdiction of Church law. This is not a civil matter.”

“It will be my concern until I know whether he was responsible for the deaths of our unknown man and Brother Rupert as well as the attack on Brother Thomas. If he had some special reason for attacking Prioress Eleanor alone, then he is all yours and I still must catch the culprit, or culprits, who did the other deeds.”

“It would be strange indeed if he didn’t commit all the crimes. Why only attack our prioress? Surely this house of God would not have two murderers, even three, in our midst at the same time?” Thomas asked.

“Indeed, good brother. My very point!” Simeon waved his empty goblet at Gytha, who scowled and refilled it without water. “Our prioress would not be his only victim.”

“Good sirs. If you don’t mind, I am still with you. Perhaps you would stop discussing the events of last night as if I were just a corpse placed in your midst to fill a chair.” Eleanor managed a half smile.

The men muttered apologies.

Eleanor nodded at the crowner. “I agree with Ralf that we cannot assume Brother John was responsible for both deaths and the attacks on Brother Thomas and me until we either get a confession or find more evidence.”

“Nonetheless, I saw him running from the direction of the nuns’ quarters, my lady, and I gave chase. He refused to stop when I called out to him to halt. In fact, he ran faster. I say that points to his guilt.” Simeon downed his wine, then scowled at the cup as if it had offended him by being empty. Gytha refilled it without a word.

“You first said that you saw him running from the church, Brother Simeon,” Eleanor said. “Which now is correct? And if the latter, has he said why he might have been in the church? Perhaps our real culprit has disappeared, and Brother John was in the same vicinity for good and legitimate reasons.”

“The man is as guilty as Satan himself or else he would say what he was doing,” Simeon replied.

Ralf shrugged in half-hearted agreement. “’Tis usually the case, my lady.”

Eleanor nodded and turned to the two monks. “Then you and Brother Thomas would not hesitate to tell me why each of you was abroad last night, also contrary to the rules?”

Simeon flushed. “Forgive me, my lady, but I do not appreciate such insinuations. I was the man who chased him and risked my life to do so. Why should I fall under suspicion of breaking priory rules?”

“I did not say you were, good brother. I was merely suggesting that reasons for not being where one is supposed to be might be difficult to give, however satisfactory.”

“Then I shall speak for myself first,” Thomas said. “I was unable to sleep and thought a walk in the cloister and an hour of prayer in the chapel might help. I had just entered the cloister near the refectory when I saw two dark shadows running toward me. One shouted to me to stop the other. And I did.”

“And I do believe you, brother. This time.” Eleanor smiled. “Sadly, your good works did not bring you the desired sleep. For that I am sorry.”

“The reward is but delayed. I am sure that God will be gracious in granting me rest some night in the future.” Thomas smiled back.

Simeon glared at her through puffy eyes. “Very well, my lady. I, too, was troubled with worries over our failure to bring in enough income to feed us with proper fare for the winter months, and sleep evaded me. I rose and walked toward the church.” He raised his chin. “I feel closer to God in my prayers at the high altar than in our small chapel so I go there.” He hesitated but continued when no one spoke. “Before I got to the sacristy door, I thought I’d check to see if the brewery was locked for the night.” He shrugged. “I do not trust the villagers not to damage…”

Eleanor cleared her throat and gestured for him to get on with his story.

“As I began to walk in that direction, I heard a noise behind me. I turned and saw a figure running from the direction of the nuns’ quarters near the sacristy. I immediately called to him, but he ran from me into the monks’ quarters through the passageway door I had foolishly left unlocked…”

“And thus you have both reasonably explained your actions. Do you think any man should have a good excuse as readily at hand if he is innocent of any evil?” Eleanor pointedly looked at Thomas and raised her eyebrows.

“He should!” Simeon’s voice was slurred.

“Perhaps not, my lady,” Thomas admitted quietly.

“There is also the matter of a wound the guilty man may bear somewhere on his face or hands,” Eleanor said. “The cat must have scratched him. I heard a cry of pain before he ran.”

Thomas raised his hands, twisting them to show the scrapes on both sides. “I fear scratches may not be good evidence, my lady. As you see, my hands are cut from sliding along the ground as I caught Brother John. Both his hands and face are equally scratched, but the abrasions might have been caused by his fall. Brother Simeon as well has…”

“A wound in the service of God’s justice is nothing,” Simeon muttered.

“Well said, brother.” Thomas patted the receiver’s back. “I believe I’ve made my point. There is no simple evidence here.”

“Nothing about this case has ever been simple,” Ralf growled.

“Perhaps it is time to make it so.” Eleanor looked at each man in front of her as she continued. “Perhaps I should speak to Brother John alone.”

“Never!” both Ralf and Simeon said in unison. Thomas, however, nodded approval.

“He is quite probably a murderer, my lady,” Ralf said, glancing at Sister Anne, who continued to stare in silence at her tightly folded hands.

“We will all take due precautions, but he may say things to his prioress he would not to any of you. Although temporal justice must be served, the peace of the soul is both spiritual and eternal. As a woman, I cannot be his earthly judge in either secular or religious court. As his prioress, however, I am his spiritual guide. He may listen and talk to me.”

Ralf raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“It is not well advised, but perhaps we could arrange some protection for you if you insist.” Simeon downed his third goblet of unwatered wine. Gytha ignored his perfunctory nod at her for a refill and turned to the crowner with the ewer.

Ralf waved away her offer of wine. “We could come up with a plan to protect you while you speak with him alone as you wish. Allow me to further suggest that you should not do so until at least a day has passed. If he be truly innocent, then some time alone with minimal bread and water in his windowless room by the monks’ latrine will surely bring the man to his senses. Whatever embarrassment he might now feel over some relatively minor sin should fade into reason after many hours of thinking about what could happen to him if he continues to act like a guilty man.”