Michael JECKS - Belladonna at Belstone

There had been no screaming, just an awful silence as she stood staring at them, her face working, and then she had spun on her heel and walked out. Luke was in no position to chase after her through the cloister, and Katerine showed no inclination to follow. In fact she seemed delighted that Agnes had seen them, and pulled Luke back on top of her.

Afterwards he had not seen Agnes for some days except at services, and gradually Katerine became more willing and less self-absorbed. She laughed when she talked about Agnes, saying, “She doesn’t like to share. Maybe she won’t suit a communal life!”

Yet Luke found he missed the blonde novice. He gazed at her secretly when he conducted the nuns’ services, and couldn’t help but measure her beauty against that of Katerine. The latter was attractive, but there was an inner fire to Agnes that was more exciting. At last he managed to speak to her, and she said she would forgive him, but only if he left Katerine alone. He had made his promise, safe in the knowledge that Agnes and Kate never mentioned him in the other’s presence. And he had made sure that whoever he saw, the other was busy about her duties.

His happy reflections ended when he put his hand to the door and lifted the latch. A puzzled expression came to his face when it failed to give, and he glanced at the frame to see if it had somehow jammed.

“It is locked, Luke.”

“Lady Elizabeth, I didn’t see you there,” he said, turning and smiling. “But why have you locked it?”

“Oh, I think you know the answer well enough,” she said.

Her mood hadn’t improved since seeing Elias. She felt a curious guilt about hurting him so badly, and about sentencing Constance to a life of service in the priory. She might have escaped, but not now. Elias would run.

There was more than a touch of ice in her voice as she stalked towards Luke with the deliberation of a cat approaching its prey. Instinctively Luke wanted to retreat, but forced himself to keep still wearing a faintly surprised, slightly hurt expression.

“It won’t do, Luke. Ah, no! You try to look offended, as if I have insulted you, yet the insult truly is offered by you to me – and to God! You’ve ravaged your way through my novices like a French pirate, caring nothing for them or the reputation of the convent, and it will stop.”

She jerked her head at the painting on the wall opposite the altar. “Look at that! Christ in Judgement. He sits above Moses, who is holding the Ten Commandments; the godly soul surrounded by the seven works of mercy is being accepted into heaven by an angel; but look on the left there, Luke. There is the sinner being cast down by another angel. Can you see the roundels about that evil man? Can you see the one depicting lust?”

“My Lady, I don’t know what you…”

“Don’t think to deny it, fool!” she snapped, turning to face him. “Do you think I’m blind? That I don’t know about Agnes? Where my room is, Luke, I can hear the footsteps of the novices when they go to pee, or when they go to meet their lover, and in your interests she has been passing my chamber too often of late.”

“Surely if Agnes was, as you say, going to meet a lover,” Luke said coolly, “then you would have followed her and accosted them both. I am afraid I have never been found with any of your novices or nuns.”

“No, you haven’t. But there is no one else in the canons’ cloister who would attract her. The others are too old.”

“I am afraid you should look to one of the lay brothers,” Luke said sadly, shaking his head. “I think there is one there who has regularly enjoyed the young women in the nunnery.“

“A lay brother?”

“I fear so,“ Luke said. He took a pace forward, leaned conspiratorially and whispered, ”That man in the smithy. I think he is the one.“

“Fascinating.”

Luke glanced at her. The prioress didn’t seem as surprised as she should, and even as he caught sight of her expression, he saw it harden.

“Luke, you are a liar and a charlatan. I shall demand that you be removed from here. I know about the lay brother, and have already spoken to him, and I must confess I was more impressed by his attitude than I am by yours. At least he didn’t attempt to put the blame upon another. You sicken me, Luke, and the sooner you are removed, the better, I feel, for the whole community.”

He allowed his face to relax slightly, just enough to permit his amusement to show. “So you think it would be useful for someone to investigate the level of moral laxity and corruption in the convent? It would be a most interesting study, wouldn’t it?”

“Your meaning?”

“No need for such asperity, my Lady. No, I was merely thinking about the young wench in the frater. Comely lass, she is. She’s been seen lying with various men, mostly canons and lay brothers, but never with me, of course. No. I’m sure that if you ask her, she’d deny sleeping with me.”

There was a gleam in the prioress’s eyes, but her voice showed no emotion, only ice, deadly chill, and as she spoke, Luke felt the freezing certainty sink into his bowels.

“Luke, you are a fool. The girl is my daughter, and I have received absolution for my sin in giving birth to her. As to her sins, they are between her and God. But since the good Bishop of Exeter confessed me when I admitted to my grievous sin, I hardly think there is anything you could report which could harm me. However, the fact you have attempted to blackmail me will be reported to the bishop, together with the news of your affairs.”

Simon slipped inside the forge and crossed the floor to the far side, which lay in comparative darkness without candles or braziers to illuminate the gloom. There was a movement ahead, and he stepped backwards so that a shaft of light lit his face, smiling to reassure his quarry.

“It’s all right, I mean no harm, I just wanted to chat.”

The noise stopped – he could see no one, but was convinced that he was the subject of a detailed study. Just when he was beginning to think that he was alone and had imagined things, he heard her speak. “What would a bailiff want to talk to me about?”

He grinned. “The ale in your tavern, Rose? But perhaps better would be how you rate the men here: your mother wants me to find out who was the murderer of the two novices and wishes you to help.”

“Who is my mother?”

“Prioress Elizabeth. You see, I already know much and now I must find out who killed the novices.”

She stepped into a low glimmering light that came from a tiny window high in the wall, and stood still, surveying him with a serious expression. “Why should I trust you?”

“Why should you not trust me?”

“Two are dead already. A third might not matter to the person who could kill twice.”

“But why should anyone hurt you?” Simon asked with genuine surprise. “Surely the person who killed these two was someone within the cloister, and the reason for their deaths must lie within the convent itself. You aren’t part of it, are you?”

“Me a part of this?” she asked, a smile pulling at her mouth. She gazed at him dubiously. “You know who my mother is, you know what I do here. Of course I am a part of the place, and one of the worst parts to many minds. Think of it: fornicating with the canons, perverting them and making them break their vows of chastity. I am thought evil by the godly here. Don’t you think me evil?”

As she spoke, she approached nearer Simon, head slightly to one side, arms hanging still at her sides. Her hair was long, and hung over her shoulders in a shamelessly wanton manner, but her behaviour was most decorous, and she walked so smoothly it was like watching a ghost drift over the stones. She was an odd mixture of child, whore, and lady.