Edward Marston - Ravens Of Blackwater

“Dead!” She was aghast. “When did this happen?”

Ralph gave a terse account of events at the shire hall that morning and explained that Tovild the Haunted had been taken into custody by the sheriff. The circumstances had forced a postponement of their own deliberations and enabled them to address themselves to a related problem. Hamo had been killed by a mad old man, but his son’s murderer was still at large and had to be brought to justice. Prioress Mindred listened with evident discomfort and steeled herself.

“St. Oswald brought us back here,” said Ralph. “He has helped us just as he once helped you. Gervase will explain.”

“That chalice gave us a link with Blackwater Hall,” said Gervase. “When we put a chalice and a raven together, we had the emblem of St. Benedict and that seemed to sit easily on a Benedictine house like this. But St. Oswald has an emblem as well.”

“Raven and ring,” she said dully.

“That is what the chalice was,” said Gervase. “A ring. It was a token of love given by Guy FitzCorbucion to Sister Tecla. It was the most valuable thing he possessed and he offered it to her in order to win her favours. Other ladies succumbed readily to his charms, it seems, but Sister Tecla-or Tecla, as she then was-held him at bay until he gave her a promise of marriage.”

“The chalice was that promise,” said Ralph.

“A ring to mark their betrothal,” continued Gervase. “When she submitted to him, he soon tired of her and demanded the return of his gift. Tecla refused but she knew that she could not hold out against a FitzCorbucion. She fled to the only place of refuge-this priory.”

Mindred let out a cry of alarm and crossed herself.

“There was a slight complication,” said Gervase softly. “She was carrying his child. I do not know what happened to it, but I suspect that she lost it. You spoke earlier of her physical collapse and of her spiritual deterioration. I believe that came in the wake of the baby’s death.”

“Go on,” she murmured.

“The chalice had been a ring to confirm her betrothal but Guy had forsaken her. It then became the baby she had lost. She pined for it at Barking Abbey. When you took the chalice to her, she was like a child with a doll.”

Tears formed in the prioress’s eyes. She did not sob with anguish on her own account but wept quietly for the pain of another. She stood up and crossed to the window to gaze into the garden. After a moment she beckoned them across with a gesture and they came to stand beside her. The picture that they saw supplied its own explanation. Sister Tecla was in the far corner of the garden. It was the place where Sister Gunnhild had found her sleeping one night and where Wistan had watched the young nun kiss the ground. Tecla

was kneeling at the same spot again now and watering it gently with a can.

“The child miscarried,” explained Mindred. “We buried it where

Sister Tecla now kneels. It was a difficult time.” She turned to face them. “We saved her life. If she had not come to us, Tecla would have died of grief. She told me about the child but she would never admit who the father was. I accepted that chalice in the belief that it was her own.” She glanced through the window again. “In a sense, it was. I see now why Tecla revered it so much. She clung to it so desperately because it was the only proof she had that he had once loved her. When he was killed, the chalice took on even more significance for her. Sister Tecla has been desolate since it was sent back to Blackwater.”

“It had great significance for Guy FitzCorbucion as well,” said Gervase. “His mother bequeathed it to him. He knew how angry his father would be if it was found to be missing. He sent his men to ambush you and steal that chalice. Before they returned, he was murdered.” “I do not understand,” she said with a shrug. “How did he know that I was travelling with that chalice?”

“Someone told him,” explained Ralph. “It was the same person who arranged to meet him in the marshes. She felt there was only one way to rid Sister Tecla of the menace of Guy FitzCorbucion. She killed him.”

The prioress shuddered. “She?”

“Sister Gunnhild,” said Gervase. “With this.”

He produced the knife, winch had been given to him by Tovild, and held it out to her. Mindred started. It looked very much like one of the priory’s own kitchen utensils. She fought hard to rebut the idea that one of the holy sisters could actually commit a murder, but the evidence was too strong and it could be buttressed by things that she herself had noticed about Sister Gunnhild-not least the Danish nun’s obsessive attachment to Sister Tecla. Shame would descend on the convent if it were known to harbour a murderer but Prioress Mindred did not hesitate. She snatched up a little silver bell from the table and opened the door. When she shook the bell hard, the urgent noise brought Sister Lewinna hurtling along the passageway.

“Go and fetch Sister Gunnhild!” ordered Mindred.

“She is not here, Reverend Mother,” said Lewinna. “When I told her who your guests were, she ran straight out through the door. It was most unseemly behaviour for someone who has always criticised me.”

The two men came quickly across to her. “Which way did she go?” asked Ralph.

“I do not know, my lord.”

“She cannot hope to outrun you,” said Mindred.

“I’ll get my men and start a search,” said Ralph. “She is very distinctive and they will soon track her down.”

“No,” said Gervase, thinking. “She is not trying to escape.”

“Then where has she gone?” asked Ralph. “I will show you.”

Sister Gunnhild was on the point of exhaustion by the time that she reached the marshes. She felt no contrition for what she had done and even had a momentary sensation of triumph when she came to the place where it had happened. Sister Tecla was a young and vulnerable woman who had been yet another victim of Guy FitzCorbucion’s lust. The young nun would refuse to name the father of her child but Gunnhild had discovered who it was. She was in charge of the convent while the prioress was travelling to Barking Abbey where Sister Tecla had been taken to recover from her traumas. Guy FitzCorbucion had arrived at the priory and demanded the return of his chalice, threatening to ransack the place if it were not handed over. She was forced to tell him where it was and her resentment had boiled over. It was not the first time she had suffered at the hands of an aggressive man.

Gunnhild walked to the bank of the river estuary. It was there that she had arranged to meet Guy FitzCorbucion. She knew that he would have to come. Her letter had been explicit. If he did not obey her summons, she would tell his father about the use to which the precious family heirloom had been put. Guy responded at once to the threat of blackmail, intending either to bully her out of it or buy her off. The last thing he was expecting was a murderous attack. Gunnhild smiled as she looked at the place where she had thrown him in.

A harsh sound shattered through her reverie. Two horses were galloping towards her. Sister Gunnhild jumped into the river and waded through the reed beds before flinging herself forward into the deeper water. Weighed down by her sodden habit, she sank quickly beneath the surface. Ralph Delchard was the first to reach the scene, reining in his horse and leaping from the saddle to run to the bank. Overcoming his hatred of water, he plunged straight into the river and threshed his way towards her. In an emergency, Ralph could indeed swim. The nun had already swallowed a lot of water and was failing fast but she still had one last reserve of strength left. As Ralph came splashing up in an attempt to save her, she lashed out an arm to fight him off. He tried to overpower her but he was encumbered by his attire and could not master her sudden ferocity.