“I cannot do it all, Brother. Although I may investigate a suspicious death, I am treading on God’s earth at the priory. There are people I cannot question without a witness present. If Davoir chooses that person, the monk or nun might hesitate to give an honest statement out of fear of the priest’s retaliation. If I find the culprit, and he falls under God’s law, I cannot take that person into custody. Church justice outranks the king’s here, as does the final questioning. And it is hard to imagine that the killer slipped over the walls to administer a lethal dose of some poison to a clerk in the company of Father Etienne. I fear the man is one of yours, not mine.”
“You must still ask the priest questions.”
“Which he can refuse to answer because he denies my authority to do so. Not only is he vowed to God, he is the brother of your noble abbess, and he is the confessor to one of the French king’s brothers.”
“If nothing can be resolved quickly about the clerk’s death,” Thomas said, “the accusation against our prioress festers. Prioress Eleanor will not meekly submit to the injustice rendered against her. The matter will go to Rome.”
“And we may all be dead by the time Pope Nicholas III renders judgement. After the roof fell and killed his predecessor, he might be leery of making decisions without long consultations with God.” The crowner turned pale. “And my wife needs our Annie with her at the birth. Gytha is a brave woman, but this is her first babe. If anything goes wrong…”
“Has Sister Anne said there was any possibility of a problem?”
“Would she?” Ralf covered his face. “Remember the horrible birthing of that young mother when the Jews were almost murdered by the mob here?”
Thomas put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Not all women suffer so. If our sub-infirmarian is confident this late in Gytha’s pregnancy that all is well…”
“Women have died after being told they had no cause to fear the birth.” Ralf’s voice grew hoarse. “My first wife was given no grounds to doubt her survival. Sibley was born healthy, but my wife died a few days later. Gytha resides where my heart lives, Brother. Without Annie’s care, she might die and so shall I.”
Ralf turned his back on his friend, but Thomas saw the tears. “Then we must prove Sister Anne innocent and free her in time for the birthing.”
As he spun around, the crowner’s face was scarlet with rage. His fist clenched as if he longed to strike the monk, but he wilted in an instant and fell to his knees on the path. “Were Gytha to die, I will leave this world. I swear it.”
Thomas dragged his friend to his feet. “You would be a most troublesome monk, Crowner. And if you meant you would commit self-murder, I advise against it. Your wife, a good woman and a loving spouse, would be in Paradise while you spent an eternity far away from her in Hell for your crime. I suggest we set our minds to figuring out how to get across the moat the wicked and the fools have dug around us. We shall find the truth.”
Ralf glared at his friend, then burst out laughing. “You are right, monk. I have no calling for chastity or obedience, although poverty might suit me well enough. But should I fall into Hell, I think even God would pity Satan, for I would surely make the Devil as miserable as I.”
“I fear even I might feel some sympathy for the Prince of Darkness!” Thomas grinned, then took Ralf by the arm and whispered in his ear. “Let us consider our choices.” He looked around, but no one was close enough to hear.
“Do we have any?”
Someone called out to them. Looking up, they saw Gracia running toward them.
“Come!” she said, skidding to a stop and panting from the exertion. She looked over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. “Prioress Eleanor calls you both to attend her. She has something to discuss. But you must arrive without being seen, lest a wandering clerk report the meeting to a certain high-ranking guest. I see none on this path. Hurry!”
“If our prioress has joined our conspiracy, Crowner, I begin to hope,” Thomas said to Ralf.
As the trio hurried down the path to the prioress’ chambers, Ralf glanced back and saw Conan walking toward the guest quarters. Fearing the man had seen the three of them together, the crowner raised his hand in greeting as if he wished to tarry with the guard captain. In fact, he only hoped to distract Conan lest the man see Thomas walking toward Prioress Eleanor’s quarters.
But Conan ignored the gesture and continued on his way.
Chapter Sixteen
Gracia poured each of the men ale, and then offered warm bread and a white goat cheese.
The usually ravenous crowner glanced at the food and refused it.
”You have now heard everything Gracia has discovered from Sister Oliva,” Eleanor said.
Thomas smiled at the maid. “God gave you good wits,” he said, “and you apply them well.”
The girl flushed with pleasure. “It was my lady who thought to send me, Brother. If I have shrewdness, it is she who directed the use of it.”
Silent and melancholy, Ralf stared into his mazer.
“Something troubles you, old friend,” Eleanor said. “What is it?”
“I beg pardon, my lady. The moment I heard that Ann…” He glanced at Gracia and cleared his throat before rephrasing his concern. “Now that I know no one can identify the man sent to Sister Anne by the priest, it is hard to chase away my fears. As you know, I honor her and refuse to give up hope that she will be released. But that time seems even further off now, and my wife is near her term. Gytha must bear our firstborn in terrible pain without Sister Anne’s comfort and skill. I can only hope God listens to my wife’s prayers and shows mercy…”
“Sister Anne will attend your wife’s birth if I have to take our sub-infirmarian from that cell myself and stand guard outside the birth chamber like the cherubim at the gates of Eden.” Eleanor knew he was terrified for Gytha’s safety, a woman he cherished more than his own soul. Nor was Ralf the only one worried. Gytha had been her maid for several years before she married the crowner. The entire priory loved her, and the woman was as dear to the prioress as a younger sister.
Thomas watched his prioress’ hand form into a fist. Although she might otherwise tread carefully in this sensitive matter that could wound the tender pride of God’s anointed kings, Davoir and his army of clerks could not stop her from freeing Sister Anne when Gytha’s birth pains began. His spirits rose. Prioress Eleanor was no novice in the clash of wills and usually won the jousts.
“My lady, neither my wife nor I want to put the outcome of this ill-considered investigation, ordered by your abbess, at risk…” Tears trickled down the crowner’s cheeks. There were many in Tyndal village who would be shocked to see this often rough man weeping.
Eleanor shook her head. “Until Abbess Isabeau orders otherwise, Ralf, I rule this priory, not Father Etienne. I shall not allow the health and comfort of a new mother and her child to be set aside because one man has made a bad decision, one he shall soon rue. Sister Anne has been unjustly accused. She shall be at your wife’s side and bring both Gytha and the babe safely through their ordeals.”
“Your kindness is beyond measure,” Ralf murmured. “I shall reassure my wife.”
“And no matter what malicious lies have been spewed forth against us with unknown but foul intent, the God we serve at Tyndal Priory is loving and compassionate.” Eleanor’s face was white with fury. “He will vindicate the honor of us all, but the matter of Sister Anne’s innocence comes first.”
Thomas had rarely seen his prioress this angry or determined. “How to do so remains a mystery to me,” he said.
Ralf swallowed the last of his ale, and, his fears for his wife abated, he glanced at the food with renewed interest.
Gracia filled his cup and brought him the bread and cheese.
He thanked her with a smile.