Priscilla Royal - Satan's Lullaby

“I am not in the habit of discharging clerks. My initial verdict on their suitability is rarely wrong, although I did choose one youth based on his father’s service to my family. That was a mistake, but the family has not yet been informed of his pending dismissal.” He thought a moment longer, and then raised one finger. “A few years ago, I had occasion to release one of my clerks. He was a promising lad from a respectable, albeit not titled, family. Sadly, he was found in a brothel and, when brought before me, confessed he spent much time there. I dismissed him.”

Thomas glanced at his prioress.

That means something to him, she thought and grew hopeful that he had discovered a clue.

Davoir sighed. “His family begged me to reconsider. I could not, of course, but promised to find him a living suitable for a penitent. It was in a poor parish, and he died months after of a fever, but none of us is exempt from death. Later, I heard that his brother blamed me for the youth’s fate and swore to take revenge, but nothing has ever come of these threats, perhaps because I rarely travel far from our king’s court.” He paled. “Until now.”

“It is possible that the brother may have followed you here. I spoke to a man who swore he was on pilgrimage from France to Canterbury, claims to have injured his ankle, and is in our hospital. I have no proof…”

Davoir turned to the crowner and roared, “You must arrest him!”

“We have nothing but a vague suspicion.” Ralf’s tone betrayed his anger at the very idea of complying with Davoir’s demand when the priest had also jailed Sister Anne with no evidence.

Eleanor winced at his ill-advised response.

Davoir jumped to his feet. “How dare you deny this request? I am in danger, a conclusion with which you all concur. You mention the logical suspect but now refuse to put him in irons.” He rudely jabbed his finger at the prioress. “Is this revenge because I did my duty as my sister required?”

“No, Father, but I think you would agree that capturing the man, with enough proof of ill intent to keep him in custody while we get a full confession, would serve all far better than arresting him on suspicion alone.” Eleanor tilted her head and glared at the priest, her patience at the snapping point.

“Without proof, he will be released.” Thomas smiled without humor. “And would probably try again to harm you at a later date.”

Defeated and frightened, Davoir sat back down with a thump. “I concur,” he muttered.

Eleanor realized she had been holding her breath.

“Let us plan a trap for him,” Thomas said.

“And release Sister Anne,” Ralf added. “Her innocence is proven.”

Slamming his hand down on the arm of the chair, Davoir shouted, “Not until there is as much proof of her innocence as you demand to establish the guilt of this alleged pilgrim! I am not yet convinced that she did not kill my clerk out of incompetence or malice.”

Ralf turned scarlet with outrage.

“Ralf, be calm,” Eleanor murmured. She knew the priest’s outburst was the cry of pain from a proud man who had been humiliated. A man, who believed himself almost godlike in judgement, had been publicly proven wrong several times since arriving at Tyndal. She chose to let Davoir have a small victory in exchange for his cooperation. “Let us plan the capture of the real killer and then our sub-infirmarian will be free. It is only a short time longer, and she is not suffering great deprivation.”

“If my wife…”

“If Gytha’s pains begin, I swear that she will have the comfort and skill needed for her travail.” And the prioress looked into the crowner’s eyes with a promise she prayed he could read well.

“Very well,” he snarled. “Now let us plan how to catch the real murderer.”

The wind struck like a berserk warrior slashing through a band of enemy soldiers.

“It will be a cold winter,” Ralf growled, pulling his cloak tightly around his body.

“Sit closer to me, Crowner,” Conan replied. “The shrubbery is thick here.”

Hesitating a moment too long, Ralf moved only a fraction of an inch.

“You still do not trust me?”

The crowner was annoyed by Conan’s deep chuckle. “Have you given me good reason not to be suspicious?” Ralf waited for a response, but his companion said nothing. “A man friendly to Jean is murdered on the road to the priory. When the clerk dies soon after, anyone responsible for the king’s justice would find the circumstances troubling. You did offer an explanation I decided not to counter, but…” This time he let the sentence die in the chill air.

For a moment, the men said nothing, huddling to protect themselves as the wind grew in force and howled at them with primordial fury.

Just as quickly, it waned.

“True. Said clerk is murdered.” Conan’s teeth chattered.

“You suggest that an armed guard be set outside the priest’s door, a proposal you surely realized would be offensive to a man devoted to the peaceful worship of God.”

“And he was outraged. You claim I would have guessed as much, but I believed that the man had more sense than most of his vocation. I was mistaken.”

Ralf laughed. “Well said and I concur, but that does not mean I suspect you less of devious motives.” He rubbed at his nose which was dripping from the icy air. “After Davoir rejects your plan, Renaud offers a solution more acceptable to our priest, a godly resolution in which the clerks patrolled and offered prayers instead of carrying knives or cudgels.”

Conan snorted, then uttered a curse as the wind swirled around them once again. “Tonight, I would prefer that they be here, not us.” He looked over at the crowner. “If I thought it would help, I would even pray. But Heaven is supposed to be cooler than Hell, and I might choose Hell just to be warm again.”

“I confess a growing fondness for your wit, but I have known killers who entertained the crowds with fine jests before they were hanged.”

“Continue, Crowner. I shall save my breath to warm my hands.”

“You tell the clerk that he would please his master by taking the duty at the bleakest hour, one that was probably the most dangerous time.”

“I felt sorry for the lad. Davoir does not like him, and I wanted Renaud to do something that would please the man.”

“He does as you suggest and is struck down. At that time, you also just happened to be nearby.” Ralf wiggled stiff fingers at the captain to forestall a mordant reply.

“And I find him lying in the path outside the door to his master’s chambers and swiftly carry him to the hospital so his life might be saved. What troubles you about that, Crowner?”

“Explain why I should not conclude that you struck the clerk yourself, with force that was not quite lethal, and took him to the hospital to avoid any suspicion sticking to your untanned hide? Since Davoir refused an armed guard, you would be able to slip through the watch of half-asleep clerks who were not as eager as Renaud to prove himself to his master. Remove him, and you have access to your target.”

“Why even suggest Renaud patrol alone if I could have crept through a band of mewling clerks with greater ease? That conclusion was unworthy of you, Crowner! Instead, I propose to you that I might have come to the priory to watch for problems, knowing that the clerks might be fools, but still a company of fools. Renaud, by himself, would be a target, or at least a light enough guard that the culprit might be drawn out and caught by me. Is that not a more reasonable explanation for my actions?”

“I do not know you. Why should I trust any benevolent intent?”

Conon sighed. “You are making this very difficult, Crowner.”