Helewise smiled. ‘Indeed. I wouldn’t be in the shoes of any of his minions, at least not for the next few hours.’
‘Has he a wife?’
‘I’ve no idea. I hope not.’
‘The man’s a dullard,’ Josse pronounced. ‘The kind who jumps at the first obvious solution in order to save himself the trouble of seeking out the truth.’
‘I fear you are right,’ she agreed. ‘Or, in this case, the second obvious solution. Which means that he’ll probably hang Seth for the murder of Ewen.’
‘And, although Seth is a poacher and a thief, and perhaps deserves to hang for those and other crimes, I don’t think he killed Ewen,’ Josse said slowly.
‘You’re certain? That talk about the knife and the dagger was true?’
Josse grinned at her. ‘You thought I might have produced all those arguments merely to annoy Sheriff Pelham?’
She smiled. ‘No, I didn’t think that. Although I could have understood it if you had done.’
‘No,’ Josse said. ‘It was true. Those cuts on poor Ewen were without doubt made by a dagger, moreover, a very sharp one. The edges of the slashes were so clean, and I doubt they could have been so had they been made with Seth’s knife. Anyone’s knife, come to that — it’s not practical, is it, Abbess, to carry stuck in your belt something with two such keen edges?’
‘No.’ She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘How do you come to know so much, Sir Josse?’ she asked. It was something she had wondered about before. ‘Has your life been so wild, that you are well acquainted with death by violence?’
He returned her gaze for some moments without speaking, as if he were thinking back. Then he said, ‘I was long a fighting man, Abbess. For better or worse, I did as I was ordered. In that time, I saw many dead men. Although I didn’t realise it, I must have been taking in more than I thought.’
‘I-’ she began.
But he had rested his hands on her table, and, leaning towards her, went on, ‘I should not wish you to imagine that I spent my fighting years hanging around the wounded and the dead, poking and prodding at their wounds like some ghoul.’
‘I didn’t imagine that for one moment!’ she protested. ‘I comment on it merely because, as in other things, it is proof that you are a man who keeps his eyes open. Who observes, who uses his wits. As, indeed, God intended that all men should.’ She sighed. ‘Clearly an intention that did not penetrate into Sheriff Harry Pelham’s head.’
‘Too much thick bone in the way,’ Josse said dourly. ‘Abbess, how come such a man is Sheriff? Who appointed him? And do they not realise that he is a fool?’
‘The office of Sheriff of Tonbridge is, I believe, a matter for the Clares,’ she replied. ‘And — but this is only hearsay, Sir Josse, so please accept it as such — I do hear it muttered that the Clares prefer a malleable man, and, possibly, one without too much mother-wit, in order that the true authority shall remain with them.’
Josse was nodding. ‘I see.’
And, although he asked no more questions and made no further comment on the matter, she was quite sure that he did.
She rose to her feet. ‘Sir Josse, if you will excuse me, I wish to speak to both Sister Caliste and to Esyllt.’ She hesitated, watching him. ‘I know that you do, too, but will you allow me to interview them alone, to begin with?’
‘Of course!’ He looked surprised. ‘I hadn’t expected anything else, Abbess. Apart from any other considerations,’ he added with a grin, ‘you’re likely to get far more out of them than if I’m there looming behind you.’
* * *
Helewise walked off in the direction of the retirement home, leaving Josse to fetch his horse and set out to find out anything more that there was to find about Ewen. He said he would return via the forest, and have a good look in daylight at the scene of the killing.
Helewise composed her thoughts and put herself in the right frame of mind for questioning Esyllt.
Entering the retirement home, she was impressed, as always, by both the calm, contented atmosphere and by the scent of flowers. It was, in her experience, rare for the elderly to be housed in a place where either of those conditions prevailed, never mind both of them.
But, then, other old people were not lucky enough to be cared for by Sister Emanuel. Who now, observing her superior’s quiet entry, came gliding to greet her, making the usual reverence with a simple grace.
‘Good morning, Sister Emanuel,’ Helewise said softly.
‘Good morning, Abbess.’ Sister Emanuel’s voice was low and mellow, and, even when she was issuing commands or speaking up so that some deaf old soul could hear, she never became strident. It was not so much that she insisted others spoke gently when they entered her domain, more that they automatically adopted Sister Emanuel’s own custom because it was considerate and kind. And it made sense.
‘Is it a convenient moment for me to speak to Esyllt?’ the Abbess asked as, side by side, she and the sister walked slowly down the long room. On either side were narrow cots, bearing ample bedding for cold old bodies, and each with its own little table for the placing of treasured mementos. The cots were divided by hangings, so as to give a measure of privacy, but, around most of the beds, the hangings were now neatly tied back. With a few exceptions, the old people were up, dressed and either sitting at the large table at the far end of the room, or else taking a turn in the warm sunshine outside.
‘Esyllt,’ Sister Emanuel said after a pause, ‘is perfectly ready to speak to you, Abbess. When Sister Euphemia brought her back here last night — well, it was very early this morning, in fact, a couple of hours before Prime — the girl had been largely restored by her ministrations. Certainly, she had been cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes.’ She gave a sudden sound of distress. ‘I understand Esyllt had knelt down by the body, and was covered in blood. Terrible.’
‘Terrible indeed,’ Helewise agreed. ‘Did she manage to sleep?’
‘Yes, I believe so. I looked in on her on my way out to go to Prime, and she seemed to be asleep then.’
‘You had a disturbed night,’ Helewise remarked.
‘I am quite used to that, thank you, Abbess.’
‘What is Esyllt doing now?’
‘She is laundering bedding. Although she is very good with the old people, always patient and kind, with a smile and a pleasantry for those who respond to such things, I did feel that, today, with all that she must have on her mind, it would be better to keep her segregated.’
‘Quite.’ And that consideration, Helewise was sure, was for the old people’s benefit more than for Esyllt’s. ‘She is out in the wash room?’
‘She is.’ Silently, with a small bow, Sister Emanuel stepped in front of the Abbess and opened the door of a small lean-to where there were large stone vessels for the washing of garments and bedding, and smaller jars of fresh water. There was a hearth in which a well-stoked fire was burning, over which was suspended a pot of hot water.
Sister Emanuel pointed to the figure of the girl, bent over the wash tub, sleeves rolled up to reveal strongly muscled arms, scrubbing hard. Helewise nodded her thanks, and Sister Emanuel departed, closing the door behind her.
The little room was very hot. It was a warm morning, and the fire plus the steam from the boiling water had raised the temperature by many degrees. Esyllt, as might be expected, was sweating freely as she went about her work. And, unusual for her, she wasn’t singing.
‘Hello, Esyllt,’ Helewise said.
The girl jumped, dropped her washing in the tub and spun round. Her expression was difficult to read, but, before she had wiped it away and replaced it with a smile of welcome, Helewise had thought she looked guilty.
‘Good morning, Abbess.’ Esyllt put up a wet hand and pushed her hair out of her eyes.
‘Shall we step outside?’ Helewise suggested.
Esyllt smiled briefly. ‘Yes. It’s a bit close in here, isn’t it?’