“He named someone from the priory?”
Thomas nodded.
“It is my duty to determine verity or falsehood in such accusations.”
“He claimed to have witnessed Brother Gwydo and Gytha having carnal knowledge of each other near the hut of Ivetta the Whore on the night Kenelm was killed.”
Eleanor’s head turned sharply as if she had been slapped.
“My lady, I do not know Brother Gwydo well, but I cannot believe that your good maid would commit such a sin.” He reached out as if pleading for forgiveness. “Had the villagers not attacked Cuthbert and the family he was protecting, I would have questioned Adelard further. Under the circumstances, I could not…”
“You had no choice,” Eleanor said, her voice rough with emotion. “Nor do I believe the two committed such a deed.”
“With your leave, I shall question the baker’s son further.”
She shook her head. “Not unless it is necessary. He believes he told you the truth, or else the Devil has enchanted him with this imagining. We can only hope that he has not whispered to others besides you about the sin he claims to have witnessed.”
“I do not trust him to have held his tongue. Adelard may have spread the news in the village that Kenelm and Jacob ben Asser fought the night before the guard was murdered. He, or another, suggested the Jewish family committed the crime to sully priory ground and foul our water. That was the reason the crowd attacked Cuthbert as he stood guard at the inn’s new stables, and threatened him so they could attack the Jewish family.”
“Do you know that Adelard is to blame?”
“I do not. When our crowner questioned some of the men after they had calmed, no one could remember where they had heard the tale. Yet how many others could have heard the arguments?”
“Mistress Signy.” She raised a hand. “I do not think that she was the source of this infamy, but, if she overheard the quarrel, others might just as well.”
“But surely no one else witnessed Brother Gwydo…”
“Let us hope Adelard said nothing. If not, the reputations of both my maid and our lay brother have been rudely compromised. I must find out the truth, and we shall make sure that the innocent are cleansed of any filth thrown upon them by these lies.”
“Should I summon your maid from the village?”
“Gytha is assisting Sister Anne with the birth, but, when she returns, I shall question her. As for Brother Gwydo, I would hear my maid’s tale before I question him. Gytha’s answers may explain all, and I may not need to involve our lay brother in this vile accusation.”
With those words, Eleanor gently dismissed the monk, sending him to the inn until it was time to escort Sister Anne back to the priory, but she was deeply troubled.
Was Adelard right? Was this the cause of Gytha’s sad demeanor of late? But why had the young woman not confided in her? “She must know that I would neither condemn nor cast her forth,” she murmured. “After all these years, she has surely learned to trust me. Something has indeed happened, but I cannot believe the truth matches the tale Adelard has told.”
Nonetheless, Eleanor retreated to her prie-dieu and, for a very long time, knelt in anxious prayer.
16
Belia’s eyes were white with terror. Bloodstains streaked her chemise.
“Be brave, my sweet child and my heart’s delight. This present agony is the worst,” Malka crooned. “It shall not last much longer.” Wiping her daughter’s face with a damp cloth, she encouraged Belia to continue walking in a tight circle within the stall.
Signy pushed aside the heavy sacking over the entrance and slipped into the small space. “Do you want more water in which to bathe her?”
“The one soaking was sufficient. The boiled fenugreek, mallow, and barley need only be used at the beginning of the birth.” Anne gestured at the sacking. “But please take down that cloth. The men will keep their distance while she is giving birth, and we can hardly breathe.” She was sweating, and her robe was splotched with pale blood.
The innkeeper pulled it down and set it folded on the straw. “Jew or Christian, we are all daughters of Eve,” she said, gesturing at mother and daughter. “Tell me what I can do to help this suffering cousin.”
With anyone else, Anne might have been surprised at such words, but these came from a woman known for compassion. “I shall need more hot water in which to soak the fennel for the poultice against her back. But first I ask that you support Mistress Belia while she walks. I must speak with her mother.”
Her voice must have betrayed anxiety, for sharpened fear glistened in the pregnant woman’s eyes. “It is customary, before the birth, to seek knowledge only a mother can give about her child,” Anne quickly added, knowing it was a lie but not a sinful one.
Signy walked over to Malka and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I can relieve you,” she said. Then she gave the panting younger woman a brief smile. “Should the babe arrive while they are just outside, I think your mother and Sister Anne will learn the news soon enough from us both.”
Belia’s lips twitched with weak amusement.
For an instant Malka looked askance at the innkeeper. Then she nodded and murmured her thanks.
Taking the older woman by the arm, Anne pulled her toward the entrance. “We shall inform your husband about your progress,” she said over her shoulder to the daughter. “He will be eager to learn that his child’s birth is imminent.”
Bracing the young woman, Signy urged her forward and began a distracting conversation. “Was the bathwater I sent warm enough?” she asked.
Outside in the courtyard, Anne carefully hid her stained hands, then realized the gesture was futile. She could do nothing about the marks on her robe.
Jacob rose, his pleading eyes dark with worry.
“Nothing has yet happened,” she replied and forced a confident smile. “The birth is her first. They often take longer.”
He sat down but kept his eyes on her, rejecting an answer so obviously meant to placate.
A man not easily fooled, she thought, and turned her back to him while bending close to Malka’s ear. “The child is turned badly in her womb,” she whispered. “I am not sure I can move it so your daughter is able to give birth.”
“She will die?” Malka murmured hoarsely and turned gray. Then her mouth set with fierce determination. “She shall not.” Stepping back, the mother laid her crippled hand against the nun’s damp cheek. “Your father would never have allowed that. You are his daughter. I expect no less from you.”
Anne stiffened, and then met the woman’s steady gaze. “I will do my best. She is near the end of a woman’s endurance, and her suffering will increase. All births are dangerous, but survival when the babe is twisted in the womb…” She drew in a deep breath. “Both your daughter and the child may die, although one might be saved. Do you not think we should tell her husband?”
“You shall succeed in saving her.”
Anne hesitated but realized she had also been told the choice to make if only the mother or child could live. Bowing her head, she walked back to the stall. There was no time to argue.
Malka gestured to Gytha who stood nearby. “We need more hot water!”
The maid raced toward the inn’s cooking hut where a large pot of rain water was kept simmering at Signy’s orders. The steam struggled to rise in the heavy summer air.
When Gytha delivered the water, Anne poured some into a basin and explained to the young woman how to soak and wring the poultice. Then she sent the maid outside and began instructing Signy on what must come next.
The two women stripped Belia, and Anne showed her how to squat in the fresh straw. After washing her hands as her father had taught her, the nun picked up a bowl and a beaker filled with oil. She knelt in front of the young woman, poured the fenugreek and linen seed infused oil over her hands and began to rub it on Belia’s huge belly, thighs, and pudenda.