Although Thomas felt a momentary sympathy for the priest and what he must hear from Renaud, his pity swiftly disappeared. The arrogance he so detested in the priest glittered through the man’s narrowed eyelids.
“I shall not leave,” Davoir hissed. “I demand to know how and when he sold his soul to the Devil.” Then he bent over and tore off the simple cross the cowering clerk wore around his neck. “You do not deserve the comfort of this, for you have denied the Lord and shall suffer the harshest punishment our Church can render.”
Ralf’s expression suggested he longed to hurl the priest out of the chambers, but instead he carefully stepped between the clerk and Davoir. “Nonetheless, Father, I must still question Renaud without any interruption from you,” the crowner said. “He may have accomplices who do not fall within the Church’s authority.”
Davoir opened his mouth to protest.
This was not the time for a clash of wills, Thomas decided and quickly said, “Let me question the clerk, Crowner.” He respectfully nodded at the sputtering priest. “Surely Father Etienne would agree that he ought not to do so now, for it was his life that Renaud wished to end.” He forced himself to exude compassion when he addressed Davoir. “I know you have begun to pray for the strength to turn the other cheek after this attack, but God is merciful and would not expect you to obtain such grace without further prayer.”
Davoir turned the color of watered wine, but his lips clamped together.
“As one trained in ecclesiastical law, and a man sworn to serve God, I believe I may ask the preliminary questions that both the Church and a crowner would deem necessary.”
The priest’s face became fully bathed in red. Opposition flashed from Davoir’s eyes and threatened to drown his touted reason in a sea of defiance.
“I presume our abbess told you, before you left Anjou, that both Prioress Eleanor and Prior Andrew have reported on the quality of my legal advice in matters pertaining to the priory.” Thomas did not wait for a response. “And our gracious prioress has also written of those times when she sought my opinion on matters of justice in the world outside our walls.”
The monk was prepared for almost any reaction from the priest. The manifested surprise was not one of them. Despite the grave allegations brought against him, Thomas now realized Davoir had not been told anything about his education, work as a spy for the Church, or even the rank of his father. With bitter amusement, the monk chose to be grateful. Had Abbess Isabeau seen fit to elaborate beyond the present accusation, she might also have added bastard and sodomite as background to the claim he had broken his vows of chastity with his prioress.
But the priest chose not to confess his ignorance or argue against Thomas’ proposal. He nodded an unenthusiastic acquiescence to the monk’s plan.
Now Conan seemed ready to take issue with the suggestion, but the crowner put a hand on the man’s arm. The guard captain stepped back without speaking.
“We consent, Brother,” Ralf said.
Not allowing time for any further disagreement, the monk fell to his knees beside Renaud and bent to look into his eyes.
The clerk grew preternaturally still and stared back.
“What injustice so offended you?” Thomas murmured.
Davoir gasped with outrage. “I did not commit any injustice!” he shouted. “He turned to the Prince of Darkness because of…”
“As we all agreed, Father, let me do what I must without interruption.” Thomas spoke with authority. No one had actually agreed to let him interrogate without interference, but he prayed the priest had forgotten that detail. At least, the monk thought, I want to keep the disruptions to a minimum.
“None of us should speak until Brother Thomas is done.” Ralf lifted his right hand as if repeating his oath.
“As we all agreed,” Conan added, also raising his hand.
Davoir was clearly annoyed but kept his thoughts unvoiced.
Thomas repeated his question with gentleness.
The clerk began to sob. “I did not mean to kill him.” The words were barely audible.
“Your master?” Thomas bent closer.
“Jean!”
Davoir struck a fist into his open palm. “I knew you were a minion of the Devil!”
Conan walked to the priest’s side. “Father Etienne, if the fear you suffered under the attack has so unmanned you that silence is impossible, I beg that you sit in that chair and have a mazer of wine.” He pointed to a place at the far end of the chamber. “You will take charge of this clerk when the questioning is over. At that time, you may say whatever you wish. Our needs will be satisfied, and we will have left.”
The priest seemed about to protest this insult, then chose the wiser course, walked to the chair, and sat down.
“Continue,” Thomas said softly to Renaud.
“I worked until my hands and knees bled to please our master, but the only good he ever acknowledged was what Jean did. Even when Jean sinned, Father Etienne praised the manner of his repentance. Yet if I so much as erred on a complex Latin verb tense, our master mocked me in front of all.” He raised his head and yelled. “You were unjust!”
Thomas patted the youth’s shoulder with a father’s touch and hoped the lad’s moment of lucidity would last long enough.
“I longed for Jean to be sent home in disgrace like the prior clerk. If he were, our master would look to me next and see my virtues. So I got Jean drunk in the inn the night before we arrived, but he again hid his disgrace too well.” Pulling back from Thomas, Renaud shouted at the priest. “Or else you were so stupefied by him that you mistook the signs of drunkenness for holy rapture!”
Davoir stood, turned his back to the clerk, and walked to his prie-dieu where he stared at the bejeweled cross. “This sacred gift was from the king’s brother in gratitude for my service to him,” he muttered. “No matter what demonic abuse is flung at me by this churlish youth, I shall still receive a bishop’s miter, an elevation that is my right as God’s devout servant and the son of a noble family.”
Thomas gently wiped spittle from Renaud’s lips. “When your master asked for a treatment to cure Jean, what did you do?” he asked, hoping to keep the lad within the boundaries of sanity for just long enough.
With hacking gasps, Renaud began to weep. “I went to the apothecary hut and hid outside until Sister Anne finished preparing a remedy for a nun. They were discussing a gout treatment. As soon as she was alone, I approached Sister Anne for Jean’s medicine, and she gave me something that I knew to be innocuous and suitable for uneasy stomachs.”
“Did you disguise your identity or did you tell the sub-infirmarian who you were?”
Ralf quickly knelt next to the monk, lest the clerk’s reply be inaudible.
“I hid my face and prayed that she would be called away. God blessed me. She was, and then the lay sister who had remained behind. Knowing something about herbs, I quickly read the labels on the shelves but found nothing to my purpose.”
Thomas put a restraining hand on the crowner. Proving the innocence of Sister Anne meant too much to Ralf, and the monk feared he would speak despite his agreement. “What was your intent?” he asked the youth. Thomas longed to free the nun, but he had his prioress to protect as well and wanted nothing to interfere with either cause.
“To make Jean sicker. That was all! Signs of dissoluteness had failed to move our master from his unjustifiable preference. I knew my fellow clerk must therefore choose to leave Father Etienne’s service. If Jean believed he suffered poor health, he would surely depart of his own volition.”
“And if Jean did abandon his service for Father Etienne?” Thomas watched the clerk’s eyes glaze as his mind slid from simple desire for approval to the madness of overweening ambition.
“When my brother clerk was no longer at his side, our master would choose me, and, when he became a bishop, my own fortune would rise higher because Jean would not be the recipient of all his munificence.” Renaud began a high-pitched laugh. It swept the room like a scythe.