Michael JECKS - Belladonna at Belstone

“My Lord Bertrand! I heard you were returned. I suppose it was that poor girl? Such a shame; a terrible waste.”

Bertrand introduced the two men with him, and Godfrey ducked his head quickly to each of them. “I am delighted to meet you, gentlemen. I only hope I can be of some use.“

The bearded one called Baldwin motioned towards the door. “Shall we find a fire and a warm drink?”

When Godfrey had made them all comfortable in the frater and had asked the lay brother for wine and ale, he sat and eyed them all benignly. “How may I assist you?”

It was the bearded one again. Godfrey had never liked men with beards. It made them look sloppy, to his mind.

“Could you tell us what you did for the girl? I understand you bled her?”

“Yes, Sir Baldwin,” Godfrey answered. “It was the day that she died that I was called into the infirmary. Moll was suffering from a headache – what I would call a migraine, or a hemicrania – a sick headache of the most extreme form. This kind of illness can be cured by a small cut in the basilic vein. I explained what I was about to do, then gave her the bowl to hold while I made a small incision. The blood was taken, and then I sealed the vein. That was all.”

“Why did you perform this operation?” Baldwin asked quietly. “Surely cupping is more usual with women.”

Godfrey kept the smile on his face, but he had to take a deep breath to control his nervousness. “Why, you are right, of course, Sir Baldwin. But after studying her urine I felt sure that releasing a little blood would be more effective. The infirmarer here tries very hard, of course, and she is absolutely devoted to her charges, but… Performing something like cupping on a girl of her age seemed unlikely to result in success. No, I thought that bloodletting would be better.”

“I am surprised that you were content to conduct the operation yourself.“

Godfrey was happier with that question. “But who else would have been able to do it? I know that priests are banned from surgery, but it is better that I should become involved than that a mere barber should be permitted to enter the nuns’ cloister.”

“You think so? When the Pope has said that you should effect the cure by the strength of prayer?” Baldwin murmured.

“I acted as I thought best.“

“And yet she died.” Baldwin held up his hand to halt the sudden burst of anxious self-justification. “No, I do not say you killed her. But please confirm: how many cuts did you make in her arm?”

“How many?” Godfrey repeated, still smarting at the perceived insult to his professionalism. “One, of course. I am a trained man, Sir Knight, not some quack-salver operating from the back of a wagon.”

Baldwin grinned inwardly at the thought of this serious-looking cleric selling mixed salves and potions from the back of a wagon like a charlatan at a market. “No, I am sure you are not,” he said soothingly. “But it is nevertheless a fact that the girl had two cuts, and the one which punctured her artery, was, I assume, the second – for it instantly allowed her life to flow away. Thus your assertion that you did not make a second incision means you cannot have been her killer.”

“I most certainly am not!” Godfrey declared hotly.

“And not only that, but there are other factors which I find most interesting. Did you, for example, need to restrain her? Her mouth is swollen, and there are bruises on her upper arms.”

“No, she was perfectly quiet and meek throughout the operation,” Godfrey said with surprise.

“Then I am sure you cannot help us further,” Baldwin said pleasantly. “Unless… Could you tell us what sort of a girl she was? Do you know whether anyone bore her a grudge?”

“As to what sort of girl, I should say she was an uncommonly religious young lady. She came from a good family, I believe, the daughter of a minor knight, and I think she had always had a hankering after the religious life. Her father wasn’t too keen, but agreed to allow her to follow her vocation.”

“Was she always well-behaved?”

“Yes, from what I’ve heard. You have to bear in mind that I only rarely go to the nuns’ cloister – mainly when the infirmarer has a problem, such as young Moll’s blood-letting. But as far as someone holding a grudge against her, well…” he smiled suddenly. “The idea is ridiculous. Who could hold a grudge against a nun? Surely not another nun.”

Baldwin held his eye for a moment. “I suspect you have heard of such things before. Who else could have had the opportunity to see her in the infirmary overnight? Which man could enter the convent?”

Godfrey’s attention wavered and he allowed his gaze to move to Bertrand. “Nobody that I am aware of, naturally. And yet I refuse to believe that a nun could be responsible.”

“What of the nun of Watton?”

Godfrey’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing back to Baldwin’s face, but before he could answer Bertrand interrupted furiously, talking in a low hiss. “Are you mad, Sir Baldwin? Don’t raise such matters! You have no right to bring up something like that.”

“I have every right. We are here in a convent, investigating a crime which only a nun could have committed – unless, like at Watton, the place has been run with such extreme laxity that any act of wickedness is possible.“

“It is! The prioress in charge is incompetent to run a pigsty, let alone a…” Bertrand blustered.

Godfrey gave him a startled look. “Rubbish! This place is…”

“Quiet!” Baldwin commanded. “Godfrey, have men regularly gained access to the nuns’ cloister?”

The man shook his head. “Oh, I’m sure not,” he declared, but even he could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.

Bertrand ignored him. “Men are probably getting over there and committing sins with the nuns every other day. It’s appalling, but it’s also proof that the prioress has failed in her duty.”

“No, honestly,” Godfrey protested. “I don’t think the canons have been behaving like that.“

Now neither Bertrand nor Baldwin paid him any heed. They sat staring at each other, silently. It was left to Simon to say something. He took a deep breath.

“Perhaps the girl suffered a fit or something? Couldn’t she have banged her head against the bed, and bruised her face that way, and thrown her arm about and caught it on something, ripping the flesh?”

“The skin was cut with a knife,” said Baldwin. “No, the question is, who had the chance of getting to her? Was it only women, or were there men in there as well?”

“It’s a disgrace, but I believe that some of the canons were in the habit of visiting the nuns and any one of them could be responsible for Moll’s death. No doubt he shall confess and be given his penance,” Bertrand said heavily. “In the meantime, the most important thing is to replace this foolish prioress with someone who can lead this place with piety.”

“No!” Godfrey said. “Lady Elizabeth is honourable.”

Baldwin nodded, asking, “And what of the girl who has died, Bishop? Shall she be left unavenged?”

Bertrand stood. “This is not some petty bickering in a town, Sir Baldwin. This is a convent for the celebration of God’s goodness. Why should we avenge a girl who has been fortunate enough to be taken to His side?“

Baldwin was about to get to his feet, but Bertrand waved a hand patronisingly. “Please remain here, Sir Baldwin. You have helped me greatly. I must now go and seek the prioress. There is no need for you to join me. I shall be returning to the nuns’ cloister.”

“How am I to search for the killer?” Baldwin demanded. “I have to speak to the prioress as well, and the infirmarer.“

“There’s no need. You are too keen to bring up salacious events which are better left forgotten, Sir Knight. I have reached my conclusions. Now, I suggest you and the bailiff here finish your drinks, and then pack your belongings. You are no longer required, gentlemen. I am sure you would prefer to return to your wives.”