Ralf’s eyes widened in delight when he saw Sister Matilda’s vegetable pie.
Gracia served the company but gave the crowner an especially large slice.
Ralf took an equally huge bite, then continued. “I would like to hear your opinion,” he said to Eleanor. “Is it possible that the priest had a hand in this death?”
The prioress was relieved to see her friend’s legendary appetite had returned. “I doubt it, Crowner,” she replied, her expression grown serious. “I believe Father Etienne is devoted to his family honor and to his sister, our abbess. He left the French court to investigate our priory with the sole purpose of protecting her reputation in Rome, and I am certain he intended to resolve the accusation hurled at us in a manner that would give the most credit to the Davoir name. An untoward death in one of Abbess Isabeau’s daughter houses is scandalous and only sullies her reputation further. In addition, why would he kill his own clerk, especially one he favored?” She looked down at her uneaten food, then gestured for her maid to take it away. “No, Ralf, I do not believe he is a killer.”
“Yet he has no love for our Order, my lady.” Gracia had that solemn look the young often do when allowed to speak freely in the company of adults.
But Eleanor was most taken by the girl calling the Order of Fontevraud our Order. Although she would never force Gracia to take vows, she was touched by these hints of fondness for the priory and its rules. “He may not approve of women ruling men, but Rome has sanctioned the Order and his sister has been placed in charge of it, a high honor for a noble family. With these circumstances, he will set aside his personal opinion for the authorized one.”
“Then I should question Renaud further,” Ralf said.
The prioress nodded. “Have you spoken to the guard captain about the death on the journey here?”
“Not yet, my lady, but he is staying at the inn, and I shall delay no further.”
“Did you ask our sub-infirmarian if the container she saw was the same one stolen from her apothecary?”
“I did not,” Ralf replied.
“I would like to see that container in which the autumn crocus was held.” Eleanor stopped and shook her head with annoyance. “Someone else must do that. I cannot, nor should I chance the discovery that it was brought to me in secret.”
“I could slip into the room, look, and describe it to you and to Sister Anne!” Zeal for the game glowed in Gracia’s eyes.
“I shall not ask that of you,” Eleanor replied. “Searching through Jean’s room without clear purpose would endanger the safety of my best spy.”
Initially disappointed, Gracia frowned at first, then her smile indicated she had chosen to be content with the intended compliment.
“Ralf, you may ask to see it,” Eleanor said. “Look at it well, and we shall get the description to Sister Anne.” Gesturing to her maid, she smiled. “Since you take her meals to the cell, you can whisper the description in her ear, and she can tell us if it is the original container or if there is something noteworthy about it. My hope may be slim, but if the jar comes from the hospital, that may suggest the man named Brother Imbert stole it. If it is not, the owner of the jar might be found or suggest the identity of the killer.”
The girl eagerly agreed.
“I shall insist on examining the dead clerk’s room,” the crowner said. “Davoir can threaten hellfire on me all he wants. I shall remind him that no detail should be overlooked, for I wish to protect his sister’s reputation just as much as he.” He grinned at the prioress. “I promise to be more subtle than that, but he will be made to believe that I wish him no ill.”
“And question Renaud.”
“That too. I can tell him I want to go over his written report. In so doing, I can pose questions. When he grows uneasy, I shall press him on it.”
“At last I feel more confident that we will resolve this crime without giving Father Etienne cause to cast the discoveries aside,” Eleanor said.
“You have every reason to hope, my lady,” Gracia said, then pointed to Ralf and herself. “You have us.”
Chapter Nineteen
Gytha winced and pressed a hand against her belly.
“Is it time?” Signy stood up, a worried expression on her face.
“No, but he kicked hard enough to make me wish it were so.” Gytha started to grin but winced again. “Nor shall I ever forgive our mother, Eve, for bringing this upon us all.”
Signy sat down again and smiled. “Your child shall come soon enough.”
Looking at the bowl of chicken and vegetable soup set before her, Gytha dipped her spoon to take a sip, then set it down and sighed. “Without Sister Anne to assist, my husband will be terrified.”
“And you?” Signy reached out and squeezed her friend’s arm.
“I fear this less than he, although birthing is a perilous time. Even if I do not have Sister Anne in attendance, I will have you to support me, and the comfort of your gift of the jet cup. Surely Sister Oliva, whom our beloved nun is training, will be a good midwife.” She watched the fragrant steam rise from her bowl for a long moment. “Should I die, Signy, take care of Ralf and Sibley. And if I can bear a living babe before my death, will you…”
“I swear all of that, but I have prayed much to God and am confident that He has no wish that you suffer more than any woman must in birth.” Signy grasped her friend’s hands and held them tight as if she could keep Death from Gytha’s side by sheer force of will. “You served Prioress Eleanor well before you married. Ralf, for all his faults, honors our prioress and serves justice fairly. God has grounds to bless you with a safe delivery and a healthy child.”
“Ralf’s last wife did not deserve her death.”
“We do not know what cause God might have had for allowing that sorrow. After my prayers on your behalf last night, I rose to my feet with a heart lightened of fear. I take that to be a sign that those pleas have been heard with favor by Him.”
Her tension dissipating, Gytha decided that God was most likely to listen to Signy, a woman of quiet charity and honorable spirit. “You have given me courage,” the young wife said.
Signy released her iron grip on Gytha’s hands, and the two women smiled at each other with deep affection.
Resting her chin on her hand, the innkeeper said, “Although I do not wish to ask too much of God, do you think this babe might be the son both Ralf and his brother desire?”
“I have no doubt of it,” Gytha said with a laugh. “He kicks like one of my brother’s donkeys, refuses to be born until he wishes it, and, I fear, will have a ravenous appetite like his father when I put him to my breast. This is no trembling daughter of Eve that I carry, but one who thinks he is the master of the world around him.”
“From that description, I believe you will most certainly give birth to a Norman son in the image of his father’s kin,” Signy said with dutiful solemnity.
Gytha sat as close to the table as she could. “But Ralf is distraught, as am I, over the injustice bestowed on our beloved Sister Anne.”
“Has he found anything to help prove her innocence?”
“Nothing except his knowledge that she would never kill the clerk.”
“So her version of events cannot be proven.”
“Nor disproved. The other clerk says a certain Brother Imbert brought the remedy and gave instructions for its use. Sister Anne says Father Davoir sent a clerk, whose face she could not see. The brother named is not one of our priory’s religious, lay or choir, nor has he ever been.”
“Then the clerk’s story truly cannot be proven any more than hers.” Signy shrugged. “Sister Anne cannot be condemned on such thin evidence.”
“But who had motive? The priest believes that our sub-infirmarian killed the clerk out of spite because her request to question and treat the lad was denied. The worst accusation is that Prioress Eleanor ordered her to kill the clerk, frighten the priest, and make him flee before he discovered the evils hidden in the priory.”