“Continue.”
“My first concern was the inclusion of the now-dead guard whom I asked to be omitted from the company. As I told you, I was overruled. In my opinion, he became a threat to young Jean, but the guard died and relieved me of that apprehension. Once here, I came to the priory every night to make sure nothing untoward happened while all were sleeping. Sadly, the death of Jean by poison was unexpected. I failed in my duty.”
“The priest accused Sister Anne of incompetence or murder.”
“I did not believe that, Crowner. I was well-informed on those living within this priory. Since I did not know the clerks serving Davoir, however, I was pleased that they would all, except two, be housed with the monks. Watching for someone escaping the dormitory is easy. I could concentrate on looking for any other suspicious behavior.”
“Are you certain none of the clerks are involved in the murder or the attack?”
“The poisoning troubles me, Crowner. I have no idea how that happened. As for the attack on Renaud, I doubt it was another clerk.”
“Renaud claims to have seen the Jean’s ghost in the shadows, yet he was struck from behind. Two clerks might be involved.”
“I fear our lad sees the wandering damned when the branches of a shrub wave in the wind. It is a malady common amongst the religious-or so I have been told.”
“Why are you so convinced it is not another in Davoir’s company?”
“I saw someone hurrying over the bridge from the guest quarters and feared something had happened. I did not wait to see who it was but ran to the grounds, fearing injury to Davoir and cursing myself for being late. I was usually here earlier but was delayed because I suspected I had been followed and wanted to make sure no one was bent on killing me.”
“You were followed by our innkeeper’s foster son. She did not trust you either. When he saw you walk toward the guest chambers, he also saw the person coming across the bridge, and he ran back to the inn where I waited for his report.”
“Which explains why you came so quickly, Crowner. Does it ease your heart that I now no longer add you to my list of men who might be involved in this perilous matter?”
Ralf stared at him in disbelief, but then realized the captain had cause to wonder why he had been on the priory land at the same time. If Conan was truly sent by the king, he had as much reason to suspect him as Ralf had to distrust the guard captain.
“I did not see who attacked Renaud,” Conan said, “but I have seen a man lurking about on crutches. Once I noticed he was hiding in the bushes near the path to the guest quarters. The shadow that your young spy saw did not run toward the monk’s dormitory but toward the main gate or perhaps the hospital.”
“And what have you discovered about him?”
“Little enough. This hospital has several men on crutches. The lay brother told me there were many he could point out, and I had a poor description of him.” Conan frowned. “And if he were injured, I thought it unlikely that he would be an assassin. Perhaps he simply wanted a glimpse of a foreigner of such high rank.” He thought for a moment. “A man on crutches does not run as quickly as the escaping figure did.”
“One of your own soldiers?” Ralf asked the question because he knew he must, but he also recalled what Brother Thomas had said in the audience chamber about the man from France with the injured ankle. Should he mention that to Conan?
“Many of them I know, having fought by their sides. A few I did not, but I sat apart at the inn and watched those I had no grounds to trust. No one left the inn that I did not follow, but their paths all led to some woman’s bed.”
Before giving a reply, Ralf suddenly reached over, grabbed Conan’s arm, and pointed.
A shadow approached.
Ralf cautiously peeked through the shrub branches, then relaxed. “Greetings!” he shouted as the person drew near.
Renaud screamed.
“It is nothing, lad!” Ralf stood up as he called out. “We have no wish to harm you.”
The clerk fell to his knees and raised his hands heavenward.
“What is your purpose in coming here?” Conan picked up his sword, climbed out of the shrubbery, and walked over to the clerk. The blade of his weapon glittered in the moonlight.
Renaud’s mouth opened and shut but no sound came forth.
Conan grabbed him by his robe and dragged him to his feet. “Did the Devil castrate you?” He shook him gently. “If not, speak as a man ought.”
“I have brought an urgent message from Anjou.” The clerk squawked like a chicken.
Conan glared at him, then glanced over his shoulder at the crowner.
Ralf raised his hands, signifying that he saw no cause to question this.
“It is for my master,” Renaud added. His voice still trembled.
Conan let go of the clerk’s robe and gave him a slight shove. “Then go to him,” he said.
Freed, Renaud fled toward the entrance to the quarters.
As they watched the clerk disappear into his master’s chambers, Ralf walked over to join Conan. “Let us pray that Abbess Isabeau has learned that the accusation against Prioress Eleanor and Brother Thomas was fraudulent and has ordered her brother to return immediately to Anjou,” he said and then muttered, “which means that our prioress may release Sister Anne in time for my child’s birth.”
“I shall pray for your wife,” Conan replied.
Ralf looked surprised at this sudden display of piety.
The guard captain grinned, his teeth gleaming in the pale light. “With you as a husband, she needs God’s mercy.”
Ralf jabbed the man’s shoulder with his fist.
Each now satisfied of the other’s innocence, the two fell silent and waited for the expected killer.
The roaring wind from the north continued to slash with icy claws.
The subject of the pilgrim from France had been forgotten.
Chapter Thirty-one
The room reeked of sweat and candle smoke.
Thomas finished his prayers and glanced over at the murmuring priest beside him.
Perhaps Davoir had many worthy qualities he ought to admire, the monk thought, but they were not evident to him. If God was willing to forgive the penitent who had once eagerly leapt into the arms of the Evil One, as well as those who had merely stumbled, why did Davoir believe he could do less, especially for the negligible sinners? Although Thomas understood the reluctance to pardon the truly wicked, he scorned this man for his lack of compassion for any who did not match his own self-declared brilliance. Tonight the monk had prayed that God would force the priest to see, with brutal clarity, just how blind and ignorant he was.
The prie-dieu creaked as Father Etienne shifted his weight on the pillow under his knees.
Having suffered brutality in prison and seen mortals murder their fellows, Thomas was disinclined to accept the honeyed platitudes which excused cruelty. Most men would advise him to blunt his doubts and accept the judgements of influential men for it would serve his interests to do so.
He smiled at the thought. Any expectations of advancement had been shattered the morning he was taken from Giles’ arms. For years he had mourned the loss of his beloved with the pain of a mortal illness. That he had forsaken all hope of high ecclesiastical status became meaningless in the face of such anguish. Now that he was healed of his grief, he remained content to be a man of no standing at Tyndal Priory and serve his prioress as she required.
Today he had been especially grateful to be in his position. He had seen the effort it took Prioress Eleanor to exercise the required diplomacy with this priest because he was a man of great influence. Thomas was pleased it would never become his duty to do this and that his disdain for self-absorbed ecclesiastics could remain between him and God.
Quietly backing further away, the monk rose to his feet.
Davoir was unaware that his fellow religious had moved and continued to mutter his prayers.