Priscilla Royal - Satan's Lullaby

“My purpose is not to make matters comfortable for these who commit murder.”

“You did not quarrel with me over the guard’s death at the inn.”

Ralf shrugged. “Since I do not have the time to confirm your tale about the man’s past crimes and you have complete authority over those under your command, I conceded.”

“If need be, I can give you a name, a man who will give you the proof you wish and one whom you will not doubt. Unless you arrest me, I see no need to do that. But, if you would assume for a moment that I am not lying about that incident, do you think I would do what was needed to protect Jean from harm then and kill him once he was here? Use logic, Crowner!”

Ralf bent closer. “If you have something to tell me that would relieve me of my suspicions, say it now.”

“I was told you were a good man, if a trifle blunt. A soldier’s soldier.”

“Stop prancing, cokenay! You are not a womanish courtier posing in a silly dance. We are talking about a hanging offense.”

Conan stiffened. “I might have killed another who said that to me.”

The wind whistled through the shrubbery in which they hid, mocking all their attempts to avoid it.

Shivering, the men glared at each other in silence.

“Very well, Crowner. You have won this toss. To continue the dice game is neither efficient nor necessary. I know you are a man of honor who keeps his word so the only price I ask for the truth is your silence.”

“Unless the silence puts me at odds with the law, you have my word.”

Conan pointed to the sword resting in front of him and swore on the hilt.

“Quickly. My ears grow numb.”

“You have heard that the accusations against Prioress Eleanor and her monk were made by a baron who quarreled with Sir Hugh and longed for retaliation. What no one here knows is that a man, who must remain nameless, learned early of this baron’s plan to attack the reputation of Sir Hugh’s sister and also achieve his old desire to have his own sister returned to the position she had lost.”

“Your meaning,” Ralf muttered.

Conan grinned and deliberately hesitated.

The crowner spat at the man, but the wind shifted direction and he rubbed his face dry in disgust.

“Our nameless man heard a rumor that this baron’s petty act of revenge might be used as a cover for a more dangerous purpose than a minor struggle for power between two noble families. He urged the king to provide protection for the party coming from France. I was ordered to lead the guard that would protect Abbess Isabeau’s brother and his herd of clerks during their entire journey in England.”

“Petty? Minor?” Ralf’s face was a shade of red brighter than could be blamed on the wind.

“Yes, Crowner, a trivial thing. There was no basis for the accusation, and the falsehood would swiftly become evident. A time-consuming, disturbing annoyance for Prioress Eleanor? Yes. More than that? No.”

The crowner grunted. “It has become more than that, but I agree with you in principle.” He nodded at Conan to continue.

“This same nameless man was afraid that the investigation ordered by Fontevraud Abbey might be used to create a deep rift between our king and Philip the Bold. If violence occurred on English soil against a man in high favor with the French king’s brother, bitterness and desire for retaliation might result. Neither king wants that, but the skin protecting pride within royal breasts is thin. I have said this before, but this is not my conclusion alone, Crowner. It comes from a man far more knowledgeable than I in matters of State.”

“Were you given any more specifics about this threat? The cause or names of those involved?”

“Neither the king nor his source said more, but the unnamed man is valued for his sources and loyalty to King Edward. Whether he knew the perpetrators or not, he would have responded to any threat of violence that might impact our king.”

“Continue.”

“My first concern was the inclusion of the now-dead guard whom I asked to be omitted from the company. As I told you, I was overruled. In my opinion, he became a threat to young Jean, but the guard died and relieved me of that apprehension. Once here, I came to the priory every night to make sure nothing untoward happened while all were sleeping. Sadly, the death of Jean by poison was unexpected. I failed in my duty.”

“The priest accused Sister Anne of incompetence or murder.”

“I did not believe that, Crowner. I was well-informed on those living within this priory. Since I did not know the clerks serving Davoir, however, I was pleased that they would all, except two, be housed with the monks. Watching for someone escaping the dormitory is easy. I could concentrate on looking for any other suspicious behavior.”

“Are you certain none of the clerks are involved in the murder or the attack?”

“The poisoning troubles me, Crowner. I have no idea how that happened. As for the attack on Renaud, I doubt it was another clerk.”

“Renaud claims to have seen the Jean’s ghost in the shadows, yet he was struck from behind. Two clerks might be involved.”

“I fear our lad sees the wandering damned when the branches of a shrub wave in the wind. It is a malady common amongst the religious-or so I have been told.”

“Why are you so convinced it is not another in Davoir’s company?”

“I saw someone hurrying over the bridge from the guest quarters and feared something had happened. I did not wait to see who it was but ran to the grounds, fearing injury to Davoir and cursing myself for being late. I was usually here earlier but was delayed because I suspected I had been followed and wanted to make sure no one was bent on killing me.”

“You were followed by our innkeeper’s foster son. She did not trust you either. When he saw you walk toward the guest chambers, he also saw the person coming across the bridge, and he ran back to the inn where I waited for his report.”

“Which explains why you came so quickly, Crowner. Does it ease your heart that I now no longer add you to my list of men who might be involved in this perilous matter?”

Ralf stared at him in disbelief, but then realized the captain had cause to wonder why he had been on the priory land at the same time. If Conan was truly sent by the king, he had as much reason to suspect him as Ralf had to distrust the guard captain.

“I did not see who attacked Renaud,” Conan said, “but I have seen a man lurking about on crutches. Once I noticed he was hiding in the bushes near the path to the guest quarters. The shadow that your young spy saw did not run toward the monk’s dormitory but toward the main gate or perhaps the hospital.”

“And what have you discovered about him?”

“Little enough. This hospital has several men on crutches. The lay brother told me there were many he could point out, and I had a poor description of him.” Conan frowned. “And if he were injured, I thought it unlikely that he would be an assassin. Perhaps he simply wanted a glimpse of a foreigner of such high rank.” He thought for a moment. “A man on crutches does not run as quickly as the escaping figure did.”

“One of your own soldiers?” Ralf asked the question because he knew he must, but he also recalled what Brother Thomas had said in the audience chamber about the man from France with the injured ankle. Should he mention that to Conan?

“Many of them I know, having fought by their sides. A few I did not, but I sat apart at the inn and watched those I had no grounds to trust. No one left the inn that I did not follow, but their paths all led to some woman’s bed.”

Before giving a reply, Ralf suddenly reached over, grabbed Conan’s arm, and pointed.

A shadow approached.