Priscilla Royal - Justice for the Damned

"Where were you last night?" The monk cursed himself for such an unsubtle question. He should tease the truth from this man, not bludgeon it.

"Surely anything you might need me to do for you can be done tonight."

"I am afraid to come to the inn. The ghost has struck again. We had a murder here."

Sayer froze, then dropped his hammer.

In silence, the two men watched the tool tumble to the ground.

"Who died?"

"Brother Baeda."

"I grieve." Sayer swiftly rubbed at his eyes. "He was a virtuous man."

"You knew him well, did you not? So well, in fact, that he told me with what delight he had answered your many questions about the Psalter belonging to Prioress Ida."

Shifting his crouch, Sayer stared down at the distant ground.

"Your interest both amazed and pleased him."

"I may be unlettered, Brother, but I am not stupid."

"I do not understand what you mean." Thomas cursed himself again. The tips of his fingers burned to touch the man. He hid them in his sleeves.

"I shall rephrase: I am no fool. Do you wish to cast suspicion on me?"

"I meant no such thing! Surely you were elsewhere last night. At the inn? With many witnesses?"

Sayer rose and balanced himself with care. His face reddened. "I was enjoying what you have foresworn, Thomas of Tyndal, and that is more than you need to know."

"A witness!"

"None that I will name." He turned away and eased himself from the roof to the scaffolding.

"Wait!" Thomas called out. "I cannot get down from here."

"Find your own way out of your predicament, monk. I shall not help you." The man stood on the scaffolding and glared at Thomas, but his expression soon softened. "Although I believe you have some reason for wanting to call me Cain and mark me for his deed, I would not have you die here from your womanish fears." He gestured with a mocking toss of his hand. "Slide on your belly like a snake, and you will slip into the scaffolding like a birthing babe."

Thomas reached out his hand, but Sayer had already left.

Eleanor sped through Amesbury at such a determined pace that her two attendants were left some distance behind. In a dutifully courteous but clearly anguished tone, one cried out a plea for her to wait. She stopped and, turning, saw a plump young merchant emerge from a path between two houses.

"I am Bernard the glover, my lady," he said in warm greeting. "Mistress Alys told me what comfort you have been to her family after this tragic murder of her uncle."

"Grief is part of the human condition, good sir, but God never intended it to come without His comfort." Eleanor's suspicion of the man was briefly tempered with sympathy for young lovers. If he knew of that very recent visit, he and Alys had managed to keep in contact despite Mistress Woolmonger's probable and disapproving watchfulness.

"Are you returning to visit Mistress Jhone?" he asked, folding one hand over the other before resting both on his heart.

"Today I go to Mistress Drifa's house." With some amusement, Eleanor noticed that his gesture succeeded in showing off, to much advantage, the hand-stitching on the back of his glove.

"Alas, poor Wulfstan!"

His words might have been spoken in a tone more appropriate to a monk in a holy day pageant, but Eleanor sensed no hypocrisy. "Did you know him well?" she asked, uncomfortably aware that something insistent had just bitten her memory like a hungry flea.

"Since he was Alys' uncle…" The man's concentration wavered. His eyes stared into the distance.

Eleanor suspected that distraction was caused only by the word Alys. "Thus dear to her, I am sure, and a man quite without enemies?" To her dismay, whatever the gnawing thing was, it had vanished like the ghosts haunting Amesbury Priory.

Bernard blinked. "I believe he had none." His eyes focused again on the prioress.

"Although I had understood he was a poor man who labored in the priory fields, I have learned that his widow and children were left some land. What noteworthy good fortune! Or was he possessed of a hidden but remarkable prudence?"

"Everything he gained went to benefit his family, my lady. Whatever tales you may hear, let me assure you that I believe, along with most in our village, that he repented any sins long ago."

"No ancient quarrels with former companions who might have held a grudge when Wulfstan chose a different tune for his dance?"

Bernard laughed. "Or else his sinful ways caused little harm to those in Amesbury, as he himself claimed."

"And does the village consider what his son has been doing harmless as well?"

The glovers expression faded to one more vacant of meaning.

"I ask only to understand what danger Wulfstan might have courted that could have led to his death."

"I am not sure of your meaning, my lady."

"Come, Master Glover, I cannot imagine you have not heard that Sayer arranged for agreeable women and strong drink for any monk who leapt the priory walls. This is no boyish prank. It is against God's commandments. I must ask if Wulfstan joined with his son in this particular and recent disregard for the law."

"God is a far sterner sheriff than die man sent by the king, I fear. King Henry may turn his thoughts from the demands of secular rule whenever the bells ring for prayer, but our sheriff finds the cry of his hunting dogs more compelling. Wulfstan feared God's justice more than the king's law and with good reason."

"So Wulfstan's sins were counter only to the king's edicts while his son's offended only God?"

"Please, my lady, I am a glover, not a man learned in the art of debate! All I can tell you is that Wulfstan tried to honor the lords of both earth and heaven in his last years. He may have associated with robbers, but, after his wife persuaded him to reform, he lived within secular law. As for details of his past, the village chose to know as little as possible should anyone ever be called to testify. The merchants affected, you see, were never local men."

"If Wulfstan's past sins have been cleansed and he has not fouled his soul with new ones, I have no desire to delve into any links to lawless men. I do, however, have both the right and duty to inquire into ghosts, creatures that plague monastic peace for supposed sins against God and which may have turned to killing. The priory has suffered two deaths. Wulfstan was a laborer on monastic lands. Brother Baeda was a monk."

"Brother Baeda?"

"Last night he was found murdered in the library."

"God forgive us all!" Bernard's cheeks blanched to a wan pink, and he staggered back a step. "Disinclined to action or not, the sheriff must be summoned. We have no other choice."

"He has been delayed."

The glover grimaced with apparent frustration. "This news does not surprise me, but what else can we do?"

"You may have answers to my concerns." She waited for a response, debating how frank she should be in her questions. If he were involved, the direct approach would gain her naught. The indirect, on the other hand…

Silently, he nodded.

"Since his father is innocent of offending God's law, I thought Sayer might have followed his sire's example and longed to atone for his own evil ways. What might you know of this?"

Bernard's eyes narrowed. "Again I fail to understand your question, my lady."

"If the spirits have turned murderous because of some offense committed against God, the son's especial sinning may be connected to these deaths. If Sayer is truly repentant, he might provide information that will protect the priory from further violence."

"I am not the one to ask about his thoughts, actions, or ability to do what you seem to wish." He looked up at the sky, his expression a study in reluctance. "You had best ask his mother or else Sayer himself, for I do not know the man well."