Michael JECKS - Belladonna at Belstone

Denise disliked Moll because the girl had made comments about her drinking. Simon wasn’t sure that a woman like Denise could have such deep beliefs that she might feel justified in killing – but perhaps she did. Then another idea struck him. Rose had said that Constance and Elias were having an affair; that they were behaving indecorously.

That brought dishonour to the convent as well, he thought. Their affair could be looked upon as a grievous insult to God.

Hugh was in the infirmary when Denise entered. She went over to the sleeping Baldwin and glanced at Hugh. “How is he?”

When Denise turned to peer at the knight, Hugh stood conspicuously and brought his stool nearer.

Baldwin had started dozing as soon as Godfrey had left the room, and Hugh and Constance had helped him to lie down, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Now he lay as one dead, his face pale and contrasting strangely with his dark beard.

“I mean him no harm!” Denise said when she noticed Hugh’s sudden approach.

Hugh studied her abstractly. Her face was flushed: the colour could have been caused by his perceived insult, but then it could also have been caused by drink – and wine or ale could remove a man or woman’s fear of retribution, Hugh knew. He said nothing, but stared fixedly as she stepped away from Baldwin, her features darkening with anger.

“Why should I want to hurt him? He was only trying to find the murderer!”

“Yes,” Hugh agreed.

“Do you suggest that I am a killer?”

Hugh shrugged. As he opened his mouth to respond, Constance came from her chamber.

“Denise? What is it?”

“I came to see how this knight was, but this rude little serf accused me of trying to kill him.”

“I said nothing,” said Hugh comfortably.

Constance smiled wearily. She had slept badly the night before with all the excitement, and now this daft old alcoholic was trying to pick a fight so she must be drunk again. All Constance wanted was peace and quiet to reflect on Elias, and the inebriated sacrist was preventing her.

Still more annoying was the fact that Constance did not want Denise shouting in the room and waking the other two invalids. Adopting a tone of gentle persuasion, she suggested, “Denise, why don’t we go to the frater and talk? I could do with getting out of here for a while.”

“I’ve spent most of the morning in the frater,” Denise muttered, confirming both Hugh’s and Constance’s impressions.

“Why don’t we walk in the garden, then? Some fresh air would do me good.”

Denise nodded. To Hugh’s eye she looked almost ridiculously eager to take Constance away. “Yes, out to the garden. It’s nice and quiet out there.”

Bertrand was still panting slightly, an oily sheen of sweat breaking out upon his brow as he appeared before the Bishop of Exeter. “My Lord, I am delighted to see you,” he declared, and bent to kiss the proffered ring. “I trust your journey was not too strenuous?”

“Strenuous? No, not overmuch. Yet I would have preferred to travel straight to Exeter and see how things were rather than having to be diverted all the way here.”

“I know, my Lord. It is a disgraceful state of affairs,” Bertrand agreed unctuously.

“Certainly it is,” Stapledon said, peering around at the prioress who stood at his side. “Three murders and the attempt to kill my friend Sir Baldwin de Furnshill. And then,” he added, “a fool tries to suggest that my good friend and sister in Christ, Lady Elizabeth, was herself guilty of murder.”

“I was called here by…”

“A woman who wished to remove my Lady to gain power for herself,” Stapledon stated relentlessly. “And I suspect you foresaw your own enhancement in the matter. You thought you might more speedily gain preferment.”

“Oh, my Lord, no! I was acting for the best interests of the convent.”

“Then who was the murderer of the three?” Stapledon asked silkily.

“I fear I do not know, but I am sure that…”

Stapledon eyed him with chill severity. Then he raised a hand and beckoned. Elias had been standing, unknown to Bertrand, just behind him, and the suffragan felt a sinking feeling as he recognised the canon.

“Elias, you shall go with the prioress to the dorter. The prioress will show you where to go. The treasurer has a large chest. You will bring it here.”

Simon rushed from the frater and went to the entrance to the dorter, pounding up the stairs to the infirmary.

“Sir?” Hugh asked.

Simon went to Baldwin and peered down at him. “Has Denise been in here?”

“Yes, sir. She came in to ask about the knight, but then went out.”

“Which way did she go?”

“Constance suggested the orchard.”

Simon paused. “Constance is with her?”

“Yes, sir. Said she wanted the fresh air.”

“Shit!”

The noise had woken Baldwin, although Cecily remained deep in her drugged sleep. Baldwin himself felt groggy, woken too soon from a deep slumber. He yawned and stretched, wincing at the quick pain in his head. “What is it, Simon?”

“I think Denise is the killer, and now she’s gone out with Constance.”

“Then go and find them!” Baldwin commanded. “Leave me and go!”

“Stay here, Hugh,” Simon said and hurried out. On the stairs he came across the prioress and Elias. “Prioress, I think Denise is the murderer, and she’s gone out with Constance to the orchard. Constance might be in danger – where is the orchard?”

Astonished, she gave him directions, and Simon sped away. Elias hesitated, eyes as wide as a startled deer, staring at the prioress.

“My child, I don’t know if this is a good idea or not, but Godspeed! Go and guard Constance,” she said, and Elias darted down the stairs after the bailiff.

The orchard was a clear space at the northernmost edge of the precinct. Although sheep and lambs wandered among the apple and pear trees, mumbling at the shin-high grasses, Simon could see no sign of the two women as he rushed along the wall. He was aware of Elias pounding along behind him, but the bailiff’s attention was fixed upon the small pasturage, staring about, trying to catch sight of either nun.

He came to a gate, and leaped over, landing solidly and gazed about him wildly. Elias appeared at his side, his head slowly traversing from left to right. It was hard to see anything, the area was so overgrown. Trees stood with their branches unpruned, each looking like a small thicket in its own right, and while the two men should have been able to peer underneath the lowest branches, so many trees had toppled over and the grass itself was so long, that it was impossible to see anything.

Simon pointed. “You go that way, halfway from here to the far wall, and wait for me. I’ll go a similar distance to the right here, and then we’ll go in. One of us must see them wherever they are.”

Elias nodded and ran off while Simon made his way further up. Turning, Simon made sure that Elias was in his place, then dived between the ranks of sturdy boughs.

He had to climb over a trunk within a few paces, and then he slipped and almost fell in a pile of sheep’s dung, but he kept his head moving, peering intently between the trees, to his left, before him, and to his right, his head swinging regularly as he sought the women. At one point he thought he had found them, seeing a dark movement on his right, but even as he stopped and prepared to launch himself in that direction, he saw that it was a sheep covered in mud. Cursing to himself, he carried on.

The farther wall was in view now, and there was still no sign of them. Simon walked to it, filled with anxious dismay. There were already three deaths, and he felt panic clutch at his throat at the thought that he might be about to find another body.