Priscilla Royal - Sanctity of Hate

“There is no question that he shall be buried with the respect due any of our religious.” The prioress turned to Ralf. “What are your thoughts on this latest death?”

The crowner swallowed as if his throat was too dry for speech.

Eleanor attempted to soften her sharply asked question with a smile. Ralf might be a rough man, often insensitive and rude, but he longed for justice as much as she. His keen wits were needed here. For this reason, more than any demand of faith, she must be kinder, despite her hot anger over what he had done to Gytha.

“Perhaps we should begin with the premise that Master Jacob might have killed Kenelm,” he said tentatively.

“Yet he is innocent of this murder since our brother was probably killed yesterday when the village was howling for ben Asser’s own death,” Eleanor replied. “Would you agree?”

The crowner nodded. “After the riot ended, I was questioning him when his wife began her birth pains. While Brother Thomas left to seek help, I remained and am a witness to the man’s presence at the inn.”

“I stayed with Master Jacob while Mistress Belia suffered her travail,” the monk said.

“And Brother Beorn will be able to confirm whether the adoring new father has left the stable since.” Eleanor looked at Brother Thomas. “You can speak with him soon enough about that.”

“Before we continue, I must add a detail about this murder that may eliminate some suspects,” Anne said, pointing to the neck of the corpse. “Brother Gwydo was a strong man, albeit of average height.” She glanced briefly at Ralf. “Most women would be too short and not powerful enough to do this.”

Eleanor turned to Anne. “Which would eliminate any woman of, shall we say, Gytha’s approximate height and strength. I believe she is similar to most women in the village?”

“Indeed.”

Eleanor was sorry she had directed that minor lash of her tongue at the crowner and looked at him with evident regret.

The crowner stared at his feet. “Yet I must ask if a woman could have strangled Brother Gwydo if he had been kneeling?”

“He did not die willingly,” Sister Anne said. “Two of his fingers were deeply cut where he tried to loosen the thin band around his throat. I found no earth stains on his robes that would suggest he was kneeling. Anything is possible, but I believe it most likely that a man did this.”

Eleanor gestured to the crowner to let her whisper in his ear. “It was not Gytha,” she murmured. “She was with Sister Anne during and after the birth of Master Jacob’s son. Before that, she was in my company and returned from the village with our nun.”

Ralf straightened. “You have convinced me, Annie.”

“Very well, then. First, we have the murder of Kenelm, which might have been committed by Master Jacob.” Eleanor nodded to the crowner. “That one might even have been committed by a woman, although the deeply slashed throat and other details make such a conclusion less likely. Second, we have Brother Gwydo’s murder, which could not have been done by Master Jacob and probably not by a woman. And our lay brother would not have strangled himself any more than Kenelm would have slit his own throat.”

“Unless we have two murderers, we have gone from too many suspects to none,” Ralf said. “Both Brother Gwydo and Kenelm were strangers here. No one knows anything about Kenelm’s past, a matter still worth more questioning. As for the lay brother, you knew most about him, my lady. We must find out why he left the priory.”

“His home was once Cambridge,” Eleanor said.

Ralf was surprised. “Jacob ben Asser and his family traveled from that city as well.”

“Many live there,” Eleanor replied, but she paused a moment. “Did he suggest he knew either our lay brother or Kenelm?”

“He did not, nor is there anything to suggest Kenelm was from Cambridge or knew the Jewish family from the past. His taunts did not indicate a dislike beyond the family’s faith. As for Brother Gwydo, we should ask Master Jacob if they knew one another.” Ralf gestured at the corpse. “But ben Asser could not have killed this man. I am not sure we would learn much even if the two did know each other in Cambridge.”

“And I know little more about our lay brother. He had some family still living, but he begged me to leave them in ignorance of his situation. They believed he had died in Outremer. Since he was taking vows, he did not want them to say farewell twice.”

“You would say if his kin had reason to kill him.” Ralf knew he could not pry out more.

“An aged father, a wife, and at least one brother who would take his place as heir whether or not Brother Gwydo lived,” Eleanor replied.

Ralf glanced briefly at Sister Anne. “His wife might prefer him dead if she wanted to remarry.”

“So she sent someone, perhaps Kenelm, to kill him? That would be an even graver sin than adultery.” The prioress shook her head. “The guard’s only visit to the priory was in search of work. When refused, he was not seen here again. That said, your suggestion would be plausible, except Kenelm died first and then Brother Gwydo.” She turned to Brother Thomas. “You have been quiet,” she said gently. “What are you thinking? I would hear what you might have to say.”

The monk’s eyes refocused as her question registered. His mind had wandered some distance from those matters currently under discussion. “I fear my judgment may have been in error about one person we have not mentioned.” He pulled the silver cross from his pouch. “Does anyone know the owner of this object that I recovered near our lay brother’s body?”

“Adelard, the baker’s son?” Ralf reached out to take the article.

“Are you sure it is his?” Eleanor asked. “If anyone else could have owned this one…”

“I first saw it when I was questioning him on his calling,” Thomas said.

“And I, when I sent him off to his father to prevent a fight with Master Jacob.” Ralf looked down at the cross, tilting it back and forth. When it caught the light, it glittered like raindrops in the sun. “Few in the village could afford such a fine thing. I remember hearing that his father had given him this when he first spoke of becoming a monk. Even if others might have been able to buy such a thing, no one, to my knowledge, has.”

“May I?” Sister Anne held out her hand.

Ralf passed the cross to her.

“Yet I do not recall whether Adelard was wearing it when I addressed the villagers outside the inn’s stables.” Thomas closed his eyes as he tried to remember the details. “He stood near the front, and we did speak. The sun was shining, and the cross should have caught the light.” He fell silent.

“This cross has a loop for a cord or chain.” Anne looked up from examining the dead man’s neck. “The cord used to strangle Brother Gwydo is knotted but could have fit through that loop.” She tugged a bit of the cord loose from the corpse and studied it. “This is good leather work and might complement a fine cross.”

“I found no other cord for the cross when I looked,” Thomas said.

Eleanor went to the nun’s side and stared at the loosened cord. It reminded her of the one Father Eliduc always wore around his own neck, then she chastised herself for wishing the body had been her nemesis and not Brother Gwydo. “Why did you say your judgment was faulty, Brother?”

“Adelard has his failings. He is rigid, arrogant, and spies on others to catch them in their sinning. I have found him lacking in compassion and charity.”

“And yet?” Eleanor raised her eyebrow at the annoyance her monk made so evident.

“During the riot, when I told the villagers that the Church and its saints had forbidden violence against those of Jewish faith, he grew agitated.” Thomas pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, trying to picture the scene more clearly. “He did not seem distraught because he believed I was lying to him but rather because he had never heard this prohibition before. I think he feared he had been in error about the condemnations he was advocating with such enthusiasm.”