“Dubious?” This time the prioress moved away from the priest as if she had just discovered he was a leper. Glancing at the puddle surrounding him, she sniffed, then grimaced in distaste.
The priest waved his muddy hands heavenward. “God knows my reasons were praiseworthy. My heart was pure!”
“Pure?” Durant noted what Thomas had just suggested about dealings with the craftsman and used it to strengthen his attack. “There is nothing pure about murder. Perhaps you had reason to kill Master Larcher to keep the truth of your arrangement with him hidden.”
“What dealings, Father Vincent?” The prioress stepped forward and rammed the butt of her staff just in front of his knees. “What have you done?”
He gazed up at her, his mouth opening and shutting like a pike lying on the edge of a fish pond.
“The truth,” she snarled. “The bishop will hear of this if you do not tell me. Have you done something to endanger the good name of Ryehill Priory?”
“It is your nun that fouled that, my lady.” Vincent’s voice rose in pale imitation of moral indignation.
“A sin you were eager to abet,” Thomas replied.
Prioress Ursell stared at the monk, then looked down at the priest. As she considered the implications of what she had just heard, her look took on the expression of a hawk eyeing its prey.
“How dare you!” Father Vincent squirmed. “He who is without sin may cast stones. You have much to answer for, monk. A lack of piety-”
“How dare I? It is easy, Father,” Thomas continued. “You were overheard talking to Master Larcher whom you caught climbing down from the bell tower. Do you want a repetition of your exact words?”
“Lies!”
“I think not. You told him that violating a bride of Christ was worse than adultery and that his soul would go directly to Hell. When he begged you not to reveal their meeting, you told him that there was a price for your silence. Shall I continue?”
“No! It is all lies. A misunderstanding!”
“Lies or misunderstanding? I believe there is a difference, Father.” Durant glanced at Thomas.
“I think you must tell the whole story, Brother,” Prioress Ursell said with a voice so quiet that sailors would say a sea storm must be brewing.
“I grieve that you must hear this tale from a stranger, my lady.” Thomas bowed his head to her. Despite her earlier incivility, he was beginning to realize just how much Father Vincent had duped her. As Prioress Eleanor told him, this woman, like any leader of nuns, had good reason to fear scandal, and this priest had brought that curse down on her head for his own selfish motives.
“I lament more this wickedness you have uncovered,” she replied, “and do not condemn you for bringing it to my attention.”
The monk nodded, then looked back at the priest. “You made a pact with the craftsman. He would donate generously to your shrine, and you would do nothing to stop the meetings in the tower with Sister Roysia.”
“It was that child, demon from Hell, who told you this, wasn’t it?” Vincent raised a fist and shook it. “A lying, whoring-”
“The tale comes not just from her but others in the town,” Thomas said. All he knew, apart from what Gracia had witnessed, were the stories Mistress Emelyne had told his prioress, including the one about Father Vincent being the nun’s lover himself. He did not believe that but preferred to spare Prioress Ursell an additional humiliation for no purpose. If the priest believed the tale of his bribery was more widespread, he might confess, and Thomas would be content. This was not a secular matter, subject to the king’s justice. A confession would satisfy the Church, precise evidence would not be needed, and Father Vincent would be punished.
Prioress Ursell gasped. “You told me about their sins but said I must not stop the pair from meeting.” Ursell looked away. “You forbade me to punish Sister Roysia, swore you would deal with the craftsman’s wickedness but needed time to do so in a way that would not harm the priory. A simple woman, I obeyed you.” Her voice faded into a whisper. “I trusted you.”
Thomas thought he saw tears on her cheeks. Despite her faults, he caught himself pitying her for an instant.
Father Vincent was not quite defeated. “The craftsman threatened to spread rumors that I was Sister Roysia’s lover. Does not that make him the more sinful man?” His voice rasped. “The whore heard this and must have aided him in the wickedness.”
Prioress Ursell’s mouth dropped open.
The wine merchant’s eyes twinkled. He seemed pleased that the craftsman might have been cleverer than he had thought probable.
Thomas shrugged. He had chosen to keep that story to himself. If the priest wanted to wallow deeper in the pigsty, let him do so.
“It was his revenge. He told me that when last he paid…” Realizing what he had just admitted, Father Vincent shut his mouth.
Prioress Ursell was no fool. “You are guilty of taking bribes, letting this wicked affair continue, and putting my priory in danger of condemnation. You should have stopped Master Larcher and come to me with his threatened and vile accusation. I could have dealt with my sinful nun.”
“And for this petty greed you killed the craftsman and his innocent servant?” Durant shook his head in disbelief.
All this, the monk hoped, might finally push the priest into confession.
“No! I admit I took bribes to benefit the Shrine of the Virgin’s Lock. I confess to that, but I did not kill anyone. I went to Larcher’s house to force him to remain silent about the affair for the good of Ryehill’s reputation and to stop telling the stories that I had broken my sacred vows with a nun. I found the servant and the craftsman dead. I fled in fear. I-”
The prioress snorted in contempt. “How little you cared for our reputation before.”
“Sadly, my lady, the situation is far graver than that.” Master Durant stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Shall we meet in your chambers?”
Prioress Ursell looked dazed, as if she might crumple under the weight of one more horrible revelation, but she stiffened her back and nodded, turning to lead them into the priory.
As they reached the entrance, a white-faced nun appeared at the door. “My lady, come quickly!” Unable to say more, she began to weep.
Gracia pushed past the young woman and raced up to Thomas, grasping his sleeve. “To the bell tower, Brother. I fear Prioress Eleanor has been murdered.”
Chapter Thirty
Brother Thomas’ fingers left bloody streaks on the stairs and wall. Silently cursing the tiny steps to the bell tower, he clawed his way up, proceeded by the street child and followed by Master Durant and Prioress Ursell.
When he finally burst through the entrance, Gracia pulled him by the hand to the low wall surrounding the bell tower.
“There!” The young girl pointed at the priory roof below them.
Thomas saw the body of his prioress lying there. Grief may have scalded his eyes with tears, but fury dried them. In an instant, he forgot all vows and swore he would personally tie the killer’s limbs to four swift horses and let them tear the man apart. Then he heard a sound, looked down at the child beside him, and saw that she was weeping too. His heart shattered, and he could no longer contemplate violence. Squeezing her hand, he bent down and whispered words of comfort.
Prioress Ursell gestured at the staircase. “I will go back to the priory and send for help. If there is any chance that she might be alive…” She looked back at the men, clearly debating the propriety of leaving them there, then shook her head and disappeared through the entrance.
Gracia looked up at Thomas. “Prioress Eleanor may be alive, Brother. The fall is not as far as that suffered by Sister Roysia.”
Durant leaned dangerously over the wall and pointed. “Look!”
Following the direction of his finger, they saw someone stumbling along the priory roof toward the houses beyond.