Priscilla Royal - Sanctity of Hate

“Has he no family, then?” Eleanor gazed with fresh sorrow at the dead man.

“None that he claimed,” Ralf said. “Nor does any woman here hold his bastard at her breast.”

Sister Ruth lowered her gaze and glowered at a rock, suddenly deemed worthy of her displeasure.

“That is Kenelm?” Prior Andrew began to lean over the edge of the bank for a closer look, but his bad leg would not take his weight. He winced and stepped back. “I did meet him once. He came to the priory, seeking employment.”

“Did you take him on?” The crowner raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“I turned him away. We needed no one, and his manner was churlish. He looked fat enough, and I fear his demeanor made me disinclined to offer work out of simple charity.”

“A wise decision, Prior. As I heard the tale, he was paid to guard some pilgrims traveling from the south to the shrine of Norwich’s sainted William. When they arrived here, he fell ill.” Ralf spat. “Or so he claimed. These pilgrims were simple souls and had given him all he demanded at the beginning of the journey, not at the end.”

Sister Ruth snorted. “Surely they could require him to complete the work for which he had been contracted, or else demand return of the fee.”

Ralf shrugged. “According to Cuthbert, they took pity on him in his sickness and let him keep the coins. And so they were left to travel without the protection of his stout cudgel. I hope God shielded those innocents, for they had little else to keep outlaws from feasting on their purses.”

“To my knowledge, we never saw him at the hospital for any cure.” Sister Ruth considered this for a moment. “I shall ask Brother Beorn, who might remember this low-born stranger.” She spun around and glared at a lay brother but a short distance behind her.

Brother Gwydo seemed lost in prayer. Head lowered, his peaceful expression suggested his spirit was quite removed from the world in which he had found a corpse and this crime of murder. Then feeling the heat of her intense gaze, he started, bowed with respect, and asked how he might serve.

“Find Brother Beorn,” she ordered. “Bring him to me immediately.”

The man hurried off toward the hospital.

Ralf rubbed his face and stretched to see the banks of the pond above the mill wheel. A streak of damp mud now ran across his cheek like a scar.

“Why did Kenelm stay here? If he was known to cheat those who paid him, I wonder that anyone hired him,” the prioress said.

“He earned enough for his bread,” the crowner replied. “He did things other men would not.”

Eleanor awaited his explanation.

“You recall the large parties of Jewish travelers that came through our village on their way to Norwich late last year and in the early spring?” Ralf looked down at the corpse.

“I do,” Eleanor replied. “First, the Jews of Cambridge were cast from their homes at the command of the widowed Queen Eleanor, and then the exodus continued when King Edward ruled that all Jews could reside only in certain towns. Norwich was one.”

“That Statute of Jewry!” Sister Ruth grumbled. “How could the king be so permissive? Imagine saying those people could even become farmers, thus taking land from Christian men.”

The prioress bit her lip and ignored her sub-prioress. “We sorely missed your calming presence then, Crowner.”

“I should have been here, but Sir Fulke needed every man he could get to provide the protection of the Jews that the king decreed. Had I remained in the village, perhaps this murder might not have occurred.”

Sister Ruth’s face grew mottled with the effort to remain silent.

“The Jews belong to the king,” Andrew whispered to her. “He has the right to safeguard his property from harm.”

She glared at him. Her disapproval of the king’s protection was well known.

Eleanor felt herself growing warm, but not from the summer heat. “I do not understand. Was Kenelm involved in those matters?”

“Mistress Signy hired him during that time. She provided shelter and clean straw for the traveling Jews where she is now building more stables,” Ralf said. “They would not eat the food cooked at her inn, for that was against their religion, but they were eager to pay for a dry place to sleep and the care she gave their animals.”

“I recall that the families suffered theft along with other perils,” Eleanor said. “Lawless men took advantage of them.”

“That was why our innkeeper hired protection, adding the cost to her fee.” The crowner touched the corpse with a toe. “This fellow was the only man willing to rent his cudgel for a good price.”

“Did he have occasion to use it?” The prioress looked grim.

“Once or twice on village men,” Ralf said. “That did not gain him any friends.”

“It probably gained him a few enemies,” Eleanor said.

“Good Christian men, all,” Sister Ruth snapped. “The innkeeper should have turned the Jews away and let them sleep in the forest. If outlaws had fallen upon them, no one would have wept over the trials of such a stiff-necked people.”

“King Edward ordered that they pass freely to those cities where they must return,” Ralf replied with surprising sharpness. “No matter what you may think, the Statute refers to the will of the Holy Church that Jews be allowed to live unmolested. They have been under the English king’s protection since the Conqueror invited them to come here from Rouen.”

The sub-prioress turned her eyes heavenward.

Ralf hesitated, then seemed to think it best not to say more and instead bowed to the prioress. “I beg permission to leave this corpse in your priory, my lady. His death may fall under the king’s law, but his soul belongs to God.”

“Granted, Crowner,” Eleanor replied. “We will prepare him for burial, of course. Should anything of interest be noted while we do so, we shall let you know immediately.”

Pulling himself up and over the edge of the bank, Ralf stood and faced the prioress, a woman he called a friend. A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. “As always, you are most kind in such matters.”

Smiling at him, Eleanor turned to the assembled religious. “We must leave our crowner to investigate this murder.” She raised her staff of office and started to walk away but after a short distance stepped aside and gestured for Prior Andrew to pass by. Motioning to Sister Ruth, she waited until the sub-prioress joined her.

“Whether or not Kenelm was a man of little merit or great,” Eleanor said softly to the disgruntled nun, “he did not deserve an unlawful death. Even the wicked merit justice if the crime against them is unacceptable to both God and the king.”

Sister Ruth pointed a finger over her shoulder in the direction of the corpse. “Kenelm’s killer may be a godly man, my lady,” she said, “and rightly offended if he was struck by a cudgel simply because he mocked a Jew. A good Christian is not at fault if God directs his hand against one who protects the wicked against the righteous.”

“Whatever your thoughts in this matter, the death has nothing to do with us. Although the body was found here, it is a matter for the king’s justice. It is up to Crowner Ralf to find the killer and up to God to judge the man’s soul. And so you shall refrain from remarking any further on this death or on Kenelm. That is my command.”

The sub-prioress muttered a barely civil promise.

“When Brother Beorn meets with you, you may tell him that I wish the body sent to Sister Anne. Should our good lay brother have any information bearing on this death, you are not to request details. He shall go immediately to inform the crowner and no one else.”

Eleanor now took her sub-prioress by the arm and encouraged her to move swiftly along the path that led away from the corpse.