The Medieval Murderers - Sword of Shame

‘I had a wretched night,’ she confessed, when Bartholomew asked if she was unwell. ‘You are here to take our money; I must find funds to buy masses for Lymbury’s soul; Pauline tells me she no longer wants to act as Rose’s chaperon; and Rose said this morning that she will leave the priory.’

‘Let us take these troubles one at a time,’ said Michael kindly, taking her arm and leading her to a bench in a sheltered arbour near the refectory. It was full of flowers, bees and dripping vegetation. Bartholomew sat on a wall-seat opposite them. ‘First, let us consider the money Lymbury gave you, which rightfully belongs to Michaelhouse.’

‘Ten marks,’ whispered Christiana, white-faced. ‘A colossal sum! I have already spent most of it on essential supplies for the winter, and I need the rest to repair the dormitory roof. The building will collapse if we do not tackle the problem soon.’

‘William the Vicar is going to read Lymbury’s will this morning, so we shall know the full extent of his assets,’ said Bartholomew. ‘If he has ten marks in other goods, we shall claim those instead.’

Christiana brightened. ‘That would be a relief! I was beginning to think we might have to part with our relic to pay you, although I am not sure whether it is really authentic. It is a splinter of the True Cross, stained with Christ’s blood when-’

‘No, thank you,’ said Bartholomew hastily, recalling the murder and mayhem that had followed when he had last encountered such an item. ‘We do not want any Blood Relics.’

‘Your second concern is funding prayers for Lymbury’s soul,’ said Michael.

Christiana nodded. ‘That is why he gave us the ten marks-to pay a chantry priest to pray for him in perpetuity. Unfortunately, I did not learn the reason for the benefaction until after I had spent it on food. It came with written instructions, but I cannot read and Dame Pauline had a headache, so was unavailable for translation. I was dreading confessing the misunderstanding to Lymbury.’

Bartholomew and Michael exchanged a glance. Was this yet another motive for murder?

‘His soul will have to be satisfied with your daily prayers and a weekly mass from Dole,’ decided Michael. ‘Your chaplain may as well do something for the convent he serves, and I shall ask the Bishop to send him an official order. But Lymbury was miserly-ten marks could never cover the cost of eternal prayers.’

Christiana swallowed hard, touched. ‘You are very understanding, Brother.’

‘Your third problem is Pauline’s refusal to chaperon Rose,’ said Michael. ‘That is disobedience, which runs contrary to the Rule of our Order. You are her superior, so where lies the problem?’

Christiana looked close to tears. ‘If I order her about, she refuses to help me with the convent’s administration. She is the only sister who can read, so it is important I keep on her good side. She says I am unfit to be prioress, and is always threatening to expose my failings to the Bishop-although he did know about my illiteracy when he appointed me.’

‘She will do nothing of the kind,’ said Michael. ‘And I shall tell him you are above reproach, so that will be the end of the matter. Besides, you do not need her, because Dole can act as your scribe.’

‘She told me men are not permitted to dabble in the affairs of nuns,’ said Christiana miserably. ‘She said it is written in the Rule of St Benedict.’

‘She made it up to maintain her hold over you. However, if she does not obey your orders in the future, I shall arrange for her to be sent to Chatteris. But let us turn to your fourth problem: Rose. Why has she decided to leave? Is it because she is with child?’

Christiana gaped at him. ‘How did you guess? She said no one else knows.’

‘Who is the father?’ asked Bartholomew. ‘Lymbury?’

Christiana put her head in her hands. ‘She said several men have enjoyed her favours. Her family brought her to us three years ago-they paid two months’ keep, but we have had nothing since. I could not bring myself to force her out, but now I wish I had-she has brought shame on my priory.’

‘Your charity does you credit,’ said Michael. ‘And it was wrong of Rose to have abused it. Will you summon her, and order her to answer our questions? Her liaisons may be relevant to unveiling Lymbury’s killer.’

Christiana spotted Pauline, who was strolling up and down a cabbage patch with a hoe, although she was making no attempt to use it. The old nun opened her mouth to grumble when she was asked to run an errand, but did as she was told when Michael fixed her with a glare. Eventually, she returned with Rose. The younger woman’s saffron hair was tucked decorously under her veil, and her loose robes concealed the tell-tale bulges Bartholomew had noticed the previous day.

‘Anything else?’ Pauline asked impertinently. ‘These weeds will not hoe themselves.’

‘Forget the weeds,’ said Christiana with sudden spirit. ‘Go to the kitchens and scour all the pans.’

‘I certainly shall not,’ said Pauline, regarding her as though she was insane. ‘Cold water is bad for my joints. I shall stay out here, and if the sun comes out, I shall have a doze.’

‘Did you say there are several vacancies for literate nuns at Chatteris, Brother?’ asked Christiana, looking at Michael with wide blue eyes. ‘And the Bishop is very keen to fill them?’

Michael nodded soberly. ‘But no one wants to go, because of the rats-and its tyrannical prioress. The Bishop is always looking for victims…I mean candidates, and I have his ear.’

‘You need me here, Mother Prioress,’ said Pauline sharply. ‘I am your secretarius .’

‘I am to have another,’ said Christiana sweetly. ‘So your services are no longer required. However, Chatteris is-’

‘I shall be in the kitchens,’ said Pauline sullenly, hurling her hoe into the cabbages and moving away with a limp Bartholomew knew was contrived, ‘scouring pans.’

Christiana allowed herself a smile of satisfaction, then turned to Rose. ‘You said you are with child. When did you first realize you were in this predicament? This morning, when you confided in me?’

‘I have known since the beginning of summer. I hoped Sir Elias Askyl might take me as his bride, but he has proven remarkably difficult to pin down. He leers and winks, but politely declines my favours when I catch him alone.’

‘Perhaps he prefers Joan,’ suggested Michael baldly. ‘He leers and winks at her, too, and she is no penniless novice.’

‘Perhaps he does,’ acknowledged Rose with a resigned scowl. ‘Despite the fact that she is ugly and I am beautiful. No one can deny that wealth is powerful asset.’

‘If Askyl rejects your offers, then he is not the father of your child,’ said Christiana. ‘So who is?’

‘I told you: I do not know. It might be James-a sweet boy, although inclined to fumble. It might be Chaplain Dole, who is a kinder man than his warrior friends. Hog comforted me one night when Sir Elias failed to arrive for a tryst. Then there are several villagers who are fine fellows…’

‘Lord!’ exclaimed Michael, regarding her with round eyes. ‘Perhaps it would be quicker to give us a list of the men who have not lain with you.’

‘Askyl,’ supplied Bartholomew helpfully. ‘And you did not mention Lymbury, Sister.’

‘Sir Philip thought himself a great lover, but he was not very effective with his weaponry, if you take my meaning.’

‘No,’ said Michael, puzzled and intrigued. ‘I do not.’

‘Did Lymbury know about the child?’ interrupted Bartholomew, not wanting Rose to go into those sort of details in front of Christiana. The poor woman was already pale with mortification.