Priscilla Royal - Justice for the Damned

"Queen Elfrida would be blamed for only two murders. Need I remind you how cleverly he disguised his wife's death, Brother? He was most confident, and, although I think his guilty soul may have really wanted hers to seem an accident, he would have had no scruples about making mine look like suicide."

"From guilt because you sold women's flesh? London would be bereft of whoremongers if men were so conscience-stricken."

"This is Amesbury, Brother. Some here would most certainly conclude I had killed myself over sins of the flesh." Sayer's smile was fleeting.

"Might no one have asked if his travel to Gascony was connected to the disappearance of the Psalter?"

"Why? The man was a respected merchant. Even honest men see only what they are led to believe if the telling is cunning enough. Consider how quickly all decided the verdict on Mistress Eda's death because a few were most persuasive."

Bernard slammed a fist into his other hand. "The theft would have been the perfect crime, had you not arranged for me to witness it." Horror washed over his face. "And you might have died if Brother Thomas had not been there! Surely you realized.

Sayer winked at the monk. "Mayhap I would not have fallen."

"Mayhap," Thomas replied, doubt coloring his voice.

"I have long wondered why Master Herbert claimed you had bedded his wife," Bernard said softly. "Surely there was no truth to that?"

"Never! I fear the reason for his wife's murder and that accusation are found in the same tale. As our monk here may not know, Alys grieved over Mistress Eda's painful illness. Knowing me to be a merry rogue, she asked that I spend an hour playing the fool to make the lady laugh. Instead, Eda burst into tears when she saw me. When I sought to comfort her, she confessed her sorrow. She had overheard her husband's proposal to me about the theft of the Psalter one night when we thought she was deep in sleep. Although she could not quite believe her husband would plan such a blasphemous act, she feared she was not mistaken. My heart broke, and I confirmed that what she had heard was true."

"Why had he planned the theft? Was he not wealthy enough?" Thomas asked.

"His show of wealth was false. Before her illness, she found proof that he had sold his vineyards. When she questioned him, he insisted she did not understand what she had seen, that he had sold but a portion to pay debts left by his father. Although the vintner could be most persuasive in his lies, she was suspicious and looked further, discovering that he had followed his father's example in acquiring debts beyond his ability to pay. Soon after, she fell ill and began to draw away from any interest in those worldly cares, although the blasphemy in stealing the Psalter deeply troubled her pious soul. Nonetheless, he feared her knowledge. When he overheard us talk about the Psalter, he decided she knew too much and killed her."

"That does not explain how he decided you had cuckolded him," Bernard replied.

Sayer snorted with contempt. "He knew that to be untrue. While I was holding his wife, attempting to stop her tears, the vintner came upon us. He flew into a feigned rage, swearing to expose us as adulterers."

"You could have countered the charge with the tale of the theft and repented of your agreement with him."

"With some, Brother, any accusation has the whiff of truth. Were either of us to speak of her discoveries or the theft, the vintner would have claimed we were trying to hide our sin with lies. Mistress Eda was an honest wife. I did not want her honor soiled on my account."

"Why would any man put horns on his own head? He himself told the tale of adultery to the woolmonger and I overheard it. Others must have as well," Bernard said.

"The sharpness of a cuckold's horns may be dulled by cleverness. First, he made sure my reputation grew darker by suggesting the adultery might have been rape. His pride, therefore, suffered a lesser wound. Next, he showed Christian charity by defending the soul of his dishonorable wife. Can you not hear the crowds exclaiming, 'What a noble man'? You see what a crafty teller of tales he was."

Bernard smiled. "You may paint yourself with the Devil's colors, Sayer, but he does not have your conscience."

"My selfishness has brought about two deaths. I will say nothing in my defense and shall go to my hanging without protest."

"What self-interest was involved in getting the vintner to confess in front of half the priory that Mistress Eda was innocent of both self-murder and adultery?" Thomas asked. "Nor did you have any reason to save my life. When Herbert wanted to finish the task of killing me in the library, you drew him away. You knew I was still alive."

Sayer said nothing.

Bernard sat on a stool next to the bed. "I beg you to admit the good you have done and save yourself. Like many, you have done no more than loan your soul to Satan."

"Let me be."

"Sayer needs the advice of a confessor, Master Bernard. Would you leave us?"

The glover blinked, then quickly rose. "I will be walking in the gardens outside."

Thomas took the vacant seat.

"Leave me in peace, monk. I have no longing for any priest."

"Your guilt over your father's death and that of the librarian troubles you deeply, but you have other reasons for wanting to join Satan in Hell."

Sayer put his uninjured hand lightly on the monk's knee. "Do you blame me?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

"I have no wish to take a vow of celibacy," Sayer replied. "I will continue to dance with the Devil."

"Dance with a wife. Beget children. Bring the joy of grandchildren to your mother."

"And thus God will forgive me?" Sayer's laugh was bitter.

Thomas nodded gravely.

"Yet the Church will surely condemn me for the theft…"

"Bernard will tell Sister Beatrice how you plotted to save the Psalter and expose a killer at the risk of your own life. I will swear that you saved my life and confirm the vintner's confession to the murder of both Brother Baeda and Wulfstan. Brother Infirmarian and several lay brothers heard Herbert confess to his wife's killing. Prioress Ida may even count it a blessing that you frightened vow-breaking monks back into their solitary beds."

"My father…"

"… was killed because Herbert grew greedy and tried to steal the Psalter without paying for your help."

"The librarian's death.

"…is on your conscience. His soul needs your prayers. I repeat: those are not your most troubling sins."

"For all my sins, monk, name my punishment."

"Marry, take on a man's responsibilities, and find joy in that."

Sayer drew back his hand. "Did you find your own answer in God's arms, Brother?"

Thomas closed his eyes and turned away.

The grave was little marked. The dirt once mounded over the pit had sunk, leaving only a small rise in the earth, but new growth sprouted there with a particular vigor.

In contrast to the lime green of young grass, the dress of the kneeling woolmonger's widow was dark as a night without stars. Her fingers curled like claws as she covered her face. Yet when she uncovered her somber eyes and looked up at the bright heavens, her face was not as aged as it had seemed only a few days ago. Her features now held a hint of youth and even a certain beauty.

Drifa helped her sister rise, but Mistress Jhone gently shook her hand away and stood motionless, quite careless that her robe was stained with sodden earth. A soft cry escaped her lips as she looked down at the little grave, and she stretched forth an open hand as if longing to grasp something only she could see. Weeping, she pulled her arm back against her breast and shuddered. Then she let her sister take her into her arms where she sobbed with all the force of pent-up grief.