Gesturing to Gytha, she asked her to send for Brother Beorn. Of all the lay brothers in the priory, he was the one she trusted most. Although he was deeply troubled by the quarrel he had witnessed between his religious superior and Baron Otes, he would never treat the prior with discourtesy. Seeing Andrew locked in that windowless room as hard penance for giving in to the sin of wrath, Beorn would honor the prior even more.
As her maid rushed in obedience from the chambers, Eleanor walked to the window and stared out at the priory walls. They shimmered in the heat as if they had been crafted, not of stone but of some flimsy cloth that now twisted in the slight breeze. Even these works, so enduring to men’s eyes and meant to house God’s servants, may prove impermanent, she thought.
Sighing, she shut her eyes and forced her mind to return to the problems at hand. If only Brother Thomas had not left Tyndal to become a hermit, then he might have become that monk chosen by Andrew to act as temporary prior. Her sinful longings aside, she had learned to value his insight, and, for reasons God would surely condone, she deeply missed his company.
Chapter Twenty-five
Gytha tilted the jug and poured ale into round pottery cups.
Reaching for a ruddy apple from the platter, the crowner smiled with gratitude, his face red and sweating from the heat.
“What have you discovered about the killer?” Eleanor leaned back in her chair. Her voice was soft with hope.
“Nothing that would give a name to the man, although I think some possibilities may be discounted. I went first to Signy who said the inn housed the usual ardent pilgrims and assorted traveling merchants. Apparently they were a weary bunch and found their beds too early for any to be guilty of a quick murder after supper.”
“For that, we must give thanks.” Despite her worries, the prioress laughed at his phrasing and with some relief that Signy was willing to break her long silence with Ralf. Although Eleanor suspected their conversation had been awkward, she was pleased their festering quarrel showed signs of healing, even if it had taken another murder to bring that about.
“As for those village men most likely to make trouble, none are known for any greater violence than a fist fight after too much drink.” Indicating he had several points to make, the crowner raised one finger. “The baron had not been here long enough to seduce a local woman into his bed so it is doubtful he was killed by a jealous husband or love-struck lad.” He extended his ring finger. “Nor do I suspect that robbery was the intent. A bag of coin was attached to the corpse, and there were enough jeweled rings on the fingers to tempt most men of any rank.” He waved three of his own, which, in contrast, were quite unadorned.
Stopping for a moment, Ralf thoughtfully stared at his fourth finger. “Oh, some mutterings about outlaws have been heard. That rumor I mistrust. If there are any such men in the area, they have managed to hide themselves well enough not to be seen before now. Why would they chance discovery by committing random murder without any gain at all?” He studied his thumb which remained folded into his palm.
“I have heard nothing on market day about real sightings or persistent rumors of lawless men, my lady.” Gytha added bread and cheese to the offered food on the platter near the crowner’s elbow. “At least not since the last snows melted.”
“Although the idea is troubling for many reasons, we cannot ignore the possibility that the killer might be a member of the queen’s party.” Eleanor hesitated before adding, “What of the men who accompanied the courtiers on this journey?”
“According to Signy, they spent their evening gambling. To the best of her knowledge, no one left the inn.”
Gytha frowned. “Signy could not watch everyone. Did any of those who serve food and drink notice…?”
“She asked them and later told me no one saw any of the men slipping away.”
“Daylight lasts so long in this season that many seek bed before dusk. Signy and those serving at the inn must take time to rest. A man could leave and not be noticed, either during the busy time or after dark.” Suddenly realizing she had been adding to a discussion she was supposed to ignore, Gytha turned red. “Forgive my intrusion, my lady!”
“You have just reminded me that we cannot dismiss the idea that anyone at the inn, whether he sought a bed early or not, might have left to meet the baron after dark.” The prioress gestured permission for the maid to join in the conversation, then turned back to Ralf. “From what you have learned, this does not look like a random killing. Nothing was stolen, and no one has seen any brigands. I am unhappy we cannot rule out the possibility that some alleged pilgrim or merchant, staying at the inn, had a motive for killing, or that one of the escort might have had equal grounds for committing violence against the baron.”
“I concur, but the pilgrims and merchants staying that night have since journeyed on. I fear we have no way of discovering which amongst them might have known the dead man.” He tore off a large piece of bread, added cheese, and bit into it with marked pleasure.
“Most unfortunate. However, we might comfort ourselves by answering a question. How probable it is that an enemy of Baron Otes, disguised as pilgrim or merchant, would travel the far distance from court so that he might kill the baron on the banks of our particular stream?”
Ralf nodded.
“I am more inclined to suspect that something happened, either shortly before the party’s arrival or just after, to rouse some member of the queen’s party to commit murder. What is your thinking? Is it likely that a stranger would lodge at the inn, wait for the baron to arrive, and then ride off after killing him?”
“Your conclusion has merit,” the crowner replied. “The route and length of the journey would give anyone many opportunities to kill and safely escape. The murderer did not have to wait until reaching Tyndal to do so.” Ralf failed to add that it was Father Eliduc who had brought this to his attention earlier.
“As far as the escort is concerned, surely your brother would know all the men well enough. Have you asked Sir Fulke if any of them, or their families, had a dispute with Baron Otes?”
The crowner picked up his mazer, only to find it empty. He blinked.
“I will add water to the ale, should you want more.” Gytha gave Ralf a mischievous grin before refilling his cup.
He muttered something incomprehensible and handed her the mazer.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow, sensing something between crowner and maid she had not noticed before. Although Gytha had often teased the crowner over the years, this instance had a different tone. Surely Ralf would never hurt Tostig’s younger sister, and she knew the crowner to be honorable. She was probably imagining things, and, if not, Tostig would swiftly handle any problem.
Ralf cleared his throat, his expression suggesting discomfort at the prioress’ steady gaze.
Eleanor’s thoughts shifted back to murder. “I am sure you must have considered that question.”
“I did ask the sheriff about the men,” the crowner said. “Many at court have reason enough to despise the baron, but the guards were all too poor and too low in station to fall within his avaricious notice. The same was true of their kinsmen. The baron has long preferred to pursue the greater gain from the more prosperous ranks.”
Eleanor sipped her ale thoughtfully. The dead man had chosen to torment Prior Andrew, a man who also could be thought beneath notice.
“One of the guards might have been hired by another who remains at court.” Gytha lowered her eyes after glancing at her mistress.
“An observation worthy of careful consideration,” the prioress replied, resting her chin on her hand.
“I did learn something else when I talked to Signy.” Ralf tilted his head in the direction of the inn. “Nute was hiding in the bushes near Brother Thomas’ hermitage the night of the murder and saw two men arguing near the stream.”