“There is minor bruising on the buttocks and arms, but none of that recent, my lady,” Anne replied. “In her profession, such marks would not be unusual.” Her tone was subdued.
“When I looked around her dwelling, I found nothing to suggest violence, other than what I mentioned.” Thomas hesitated. “There was a freshly killed chicken by the door, yet she kept no fowl. I point that out because it seemed odd.”
“Perchance that was her fee for relieving a man of his pent-up seed,” Ralf said. “Had she suffered blows, I would look for a fellow who quarreled with the value he got for that price. Considering the method of death was poison, that possibility seems unlikely.”
The group fell silent. All eyes, except for those of the prioress, turned away from the corpse.
“We have failed you,” Eleanor said to the dead woman. “This should not have happened.”
“Do not blame yourself, my lady,” Ralf said. “Sister Anne has stated there is no reason to believe this was murder.”
“I said I could not be certain without more evidence.”
The prioress tapped her heart. “Illogical woman that I am, Crowner, this tells me it was.”
Ralf bowed. “Your heart holds more reason than most men’s minds.”
“Might not the killer be the man who had just lain with her?” Anne sounded almost hopeful as she reached for a rough cloth and covered the corpse.
“Were we to assume murder, and she had been killed by another method, that would be the obvious explanation,” Ralf replied with some reluctance. “I still argue that we do not use poison as a common weapon in this place. That was true with Martin’s death, and I see no reason to change my mind for this one either.”
“Both Martin and Ivetta, it now seems, have been killed by yew poisoning,” Eleanor said.
Thomas’ forehead furrowed with doubt as he turned to the crowner. “So you think she died accidentally from taking too much yew, perhaps in an attempt to rid herself of the child if not to commit self-murder?”
The crowner nodded.
“I still cannot believe Ivetta would choose to abort her child,” Eleanor said.
“I concur.” Anne moved slightly closer to her prioress.
The crowner did not reply but instead walked over to the body and lifted the cover to expose the face.
Thomas whispered what sounded like a prayer.
“May I be blunt?” Ralf asked, still studying the body.
“Were you otherwise, I might fear you were sickening.” The prioress’ lips turned up with a brief smile.
“Few men pay to swyve a woman big with child. How, then, would the whore live if she had no means to feed herself? To my knowledge, she was not one to hide coin in some hole under her straw pallet for the day she must earn her meat other than on her back.” He dropped the cloth back over the dead woman’s face. “That said, I shall assume I am wrong and she was more prudent. Even then, I must ask how she could care for the child with neither family nor maid to help while she plied her trade. There are few women in a village as small as Tyndal who would be willing to serve a harlot.” His expression flickered with pity. “Maybe she did love the child but realized both of them would die if she birthed it-and chose to save herself.”
“Once a woman holds life within her, she does not let go of it effortlessly.” Anne’s words were sharply spoken. “Never so casually dismiss the depth of love a mother holds for her child.”
“A woman of Ivetta’s profession does not commonly debate moral questions,” Ralf retorted.
Anne’s face turned scarlet. “You were not her confessor, nor were you the one drenched with the tears of those women John and I saved from death when they tried aborting.” She took a deep breath. “If you condemn Ivetta because she was but a wretched common woman of the village, go back to court, Crowner, where whores come in finer dress and eat enough in one day to keep any poor but honest mortal content for a week!”
“I have never thought a woman more virtuous just because she dresses in brighter colors and softer cloth, Annie. That you should know.” Ralf’s eyes softened. “I have no argument against anything you have said, but surely you must agree that some women do not rejoice when they quicken with child. I meant only that Ivetta was such a one.”
With obvious reluctance, Anne nodded. “Yet even among those who willfully rid themselves of the quickening, because they believed there was good reason for their act, most bewailed the loss far more than the sin. Motherhood holds a woman’s heart with a fierce hand, Ralf. I have known women to smile at the sight of their new babe while they lay dying of the birth.”
“Forgive me, Annie,” Ralf whispered. “I should have thought on my wife before I spoke so cruelly.”
“I think we might consider a different way of looking at this situation,” Eleanor interrupted.
“We are getting nowhere as it is.” Ralf nodded, his expression betraying hope that the conversation would move in another direction.
The prioress gestured at the crowner. “For the sake of argument, let us conclude for a moment that this death is murder. With that assumption, I have some questions for consideration.”
“Please continue, my lady,” Ralf said.
“After I talked with both the innkeeper’s niece and the prostitute, I discovered there was ill-feeling between them, and I did not sense that the reason was simply Ivetta’s trade. Can you tell me what other reason Signy would have to dislike Ivetta, or why the latter would attempt to cast suspicion on Signy in Martin’s death?”
“The matter of the whoring at the inn,” Ralf suggested. “Signy did not approve. Martin, if not Ivetta as well, profited from it.”
“Is that cause for killing?” Anne asked.
“Even if it were, how are both deaths connected? Now that Martin is dead, there would be no more whoring at the inn and certainly not with Ivetta,” Thomas added.
“That is the trouble,” Ralf said. “I do not think the deaths are related. Even if each is murder, the killers must be different.”
The sub-infirmarian pointed to the corpse. “Poison was used in both cases, and it is probable that the poison is the same one. The reasons might be different for each death, but I suspect the murderer is the same person.”
Thomas turned to Ralf. “And as you said, the method is unique. Therefore, Sister Anne must be right. There is only one murderer. Would you agree?”
“I admit there is merit in the argument.”
Eleanor began to pace. “Despite all, I cannot see what motive there could be in slaying both Martin and Ivetta.”
“The blacksmith said Martin planned to replace Ivetta with Signy. If Martin was more to Ivetta than a source of steady business, would she have seen the innkeeper’s niece as a rival?” Anne asked.
“Then she might have killed Signy, Annie, not the reverse.”
The prioress stopped and considered her words before continuing. “If the two women were rivals for the cooper’s affections, Signy might have sought retribution for something said or done before Martin was killed. What if she knew that Ivetta was pregnant and decided to destroy the prostitute’s child in revenge? What if she gave the woman some herb in a drink and left, not knowing the result would be more calamitous than she intended?”
Ralf shifted uncomfortably. “Signy would never do such a thing, my lady. A woman may have poisoned Martin, but I think it far more likely that the harlot killed herself, willingly or no.”
“Do you think Ivetta killed the cooper and then herself?” Thomas asked.
Ralf shrugged. “I would not be surprised.”
“Although my meandering thoughts may be flawed, Crowner, I am equally convinced that Ivetta would not kill either her child or the father of that babe. She mourned the death of Martin and found comfort in bearing his child.”