"Nay, Master Bernard, do not apologize, but please forgive me if I ask this: do you write verse? Singing well-turned phrases at court might serve both you and your gloves well!" Thomas grinned with genuine pleasantry. "I have heard that King Henry and his queen happily part with coin and gifts for finely crafted art. Business might come your way as well."
Bernard quickly sang the one English line from Dou Way Robyn. His voice grated like a saw on metal. "That may prove my lack of talent in the art of music, Brother. In truth, one of my neighbors has forbidden me to sing, lest my voice hurt the ears of his pigs. He claims the sows would miscarry should they hear me."
"Surely your neighbor jests."
"He is my sister's husband."
Thomas laughed and took another appreciative sip of the wine. "Your stone circle does intrigue me. If there are no imps in residence, our party had only lawless men to fear. We must have been most fortunate to avoid them."
"They do not bother large or armed groups, nor those from our village. I suspect they are local men." The glover's expression soured. "Were there not some honor amongst them, we would be severely troubled. Our sheriff fancies boar chasing more than he does the pursuit of men who break the king's law."
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "A corrupt sheriff?"
"Nay. A lazy one."
The monk fell silent as he pretended to drink. Since he had gained little from the discussion so far, he had to turn the discussion into another path. "Your priory here is famous in our Order. Was it not founded by a Saxon queen who murdered her stepson and sought forgiveness for her sin?"
Bernard brightened. "Queen Elfrida. She died not long before King William came from Normandy, yet many claim the site is far older than that. Others in England may say that Queen Guinevere died elsewhere, but we in Amesbury insist it was here. After all, it would have been fitting that she live her last days in penance near the place Mordred slew the king she wronged."
"For cert! The presence of such an ancient place of faith should be the reason the village is little disturbed by evil, even if your sheriff is lax. The prayers of so many monks and nuns would surely save you from all demons."
As the monk had hoped, Bernard's expression turned gloomy. "One would think so, yet a strange spirit now troubles us."
Thomas leaned back, gazing at the glover with expectant curiosity.
Bernard bent across the wooden table, his voice lowered as if he feared someone would overhear. "Some weeks ago, men first reported seeing a ghost near the River Avon, just around dusk or early dawn. Soon after, a few monks claimed that the phantom had drifted within the walls of the priory as well." Bernard sat back, drank deeply from his cup, and stared in silence at a spot over Thomas' shoulder. "This morning a man's body was found, beheaded. Now men say that this ghost must be a most vengeful spirit for it has turned murderous."
"Why has this hellish thing come to Amesbury? What sin could the village or, God forbid, the priory have committed that Satan would let loose this creature from his domain?" Thomas shook his head. "Pardon my questions but I am filled with wonder at your story!"
Bernard gave him a thin smile. "Forgive me if my words offend, Brother, but some from the priory came to this inn to satisfy worldly longings. Did you note the reaction to your presence? I hope no one approached you with base intent?"
"I fear I might not understand their meaning if they did, Master Glover, for I came to my vocation as a youth…" Thomas lowered his head to suggest modest innocence while praying that the lie that should have shone in his eyes would remain hidden.
Bernard straightened his back. "The lapse in monastic chastity was but a momentary one! Since the grandfather of our current king cast the sinful Benedictines out and invited those of your Order to take their place, this priory has been steadfast in God's service. If He was offended by the weakness of a few, He would have been pleased when Prioress Ida swiftly made amends and chased the Devil back to Hell. I do believe, if Queen Elfrida's spirit was the one loosed by Satan as some have claimed, that she would have returned to Purgatory by now and not slain this man."
"You do not believe a ghost killed him?"
"There is another spirit that might be abroad, that of a local merchant's wife. She drowned in the Avon. Although some believe she committed self-murder, others think she was unfairly condemned by the crowner's jury to be buried in unsanctified ground as a suicide."
"So her ghost might blame both village and priory for her place in Hell." Thomas rested his chin on folded hands. "Was the murdered man the one who brought witness against this dead woman?"
"He had no part in the verdict," Bernard snapped. "I do not know why she should have any quarrel with him."
Thomas sipped more wine, unsure of where he should go from here. "Might the killer be mortal?" he asked at last, deciding that the direct question might not seem strange.
"Wulfstan had no enemies."
How can a man be slaughtered so brutally, yet have no foe? Thomas wondered. "Then he must have been killed by this heinous phantom of a woman."
The man's knuckles turned white as he gripped his cup. "Eda was ever a virtuous creature. Although no mortal can live without sin, she came near enough in her devotion to God's commandments. I cannot believe she would ever commit such a crime, even after suffering the tortures of Hell."
Thomas blinked at the sharpness in tone. The boyishness had fled and left behind an angry man.
The glover silently filled the monk's cup and poured a modest amount of wine for himself. His hand was steady.
The man is quite calm, Thomas thought, almost too calm.
Suddenly, Bernard slammed the cup down on the table and covered his face with his hands. "Cursed be that priory! It brings grief to mortal men."
Stunned at the outburst, Thomas sat back. What contradictory views of the priory! After what he had overheard between Bernard and Sayer, he wondered if some wish for vengeance was the cause of this passionate cry. Might a clue to the identity of the ghost be found in it or even something about the Psalter theft? He reached out and touched the man's arm in sympathy but said nothing. Silence was the better tool for bringing truth to a man's lips.
"Ah, forgive me, Brother," Bernard said at last, his now exposed eyes wet with tears. "I should not burden you with minor woes. You asked about ghosts, but I cannot imagine who would stalk innocent men and kill them so cruelly. I can only suggest that it could not be sweet Eda."
Sincerity colors that speech, Thomas decided. "Are there any strangers in town or at the priory, Master Bernard? Might the phantom be found amongst them?"
"Our town is known for hospitality, else we would not have this well-stocked inn, nor is the priory ungenerous to travelers. There are always strangers here, but they come and go. A few in their late years have made accommodation with the priory for care in exchange for lands or other wealth, but I cannot see any silver-haired man or his hunched dame playing a cruel spirit that beheads innocent men."
"No younger strangers who have shown a special interest in the priory?"
"Other than you, Brother? Nay."
"And I but long to learn more of the Evil One's devious ways!" The monk folded his hands and lowered his eyes. "Does anyone local have a quarrel with the monks and nuns there?"
Bernard snorted and quickly swallowed his cup of wine. "You are looking at the only man who might."
Thomas' eyes widened with hope.
Chapter Thirteen
The glover rose hastily from his seat. "I have grown too merry, Brother, and must seek my bed. Morning comes early for those of us who live by trade, and gloves need a steady hand at stitching if they are to please a woman's critical eye."