“You have committed adultery, Mistress,” she snapped, tucking her hands into her sleeves to ease the chill. “Confess and repent, if you have not done so already. God forgives the contrite soul, and you may yet find yourself pregnant by your lawful husband.”
“And if I do not quicken with a boy?”
And why should you be so terrified of this? Eleanor wondered, hearing the tremor in Luce’s voice.
“I do not think you understand, my lady. When you are aged, you will have the priory nuns to care for you. I did not have your vocation and must depend on offspring for gentleness when I can no longer tend my needs.”
“Why fear such a distant thing? How could it be worth the sin you committed in trying to ease it?”
Luce sighed with annoyance. “My parents both lost their wits. Sadly, they had borne only two girls, and it fell to my younger sister to care for them. Soon after our mother died, our father wandered into a stream and drowned. My sister had fallen asleep under a nearby tree and suffered so because of her failure to prevent his death that she hanged herself.”
The prioress winced. “Surely there were servants to ease the burden. Kin? Why was she obliged to take on such a labor by herself?” She gestured at the manor lands. “They could have come here and been easily watched over.”
“There were servants, but my sister did not trust them enough. We had no other living kin, and I was about to be married, my lady. How many husbands want to take on the tending of some woman’s parents in their dotage? Even if willing, wouldn’t an older man suffer from such daily reminders of rotting age? I believed Master Stevyn might choose another to wed, one who did not bring thoughts of mortal decay to the marriage bed, if I raised the subject of my parents with him. As you must certainly understand, I had to hide the truth and thus could do nothing to help my sister.”
This time Eleanor knew that her chill had nothing to do with the dampness in the air.
“I would remain alone here for awhile.” Luce now looked at the prioress with narrowed eyes, her manner bordering on insolence.
Eleanor rose and took her leave with more courtesy than was owed. As she, her guard, and his daughter walked back toward the manor house gate, she grieved that she had failed to bring either peace or contrition to the twisted heart of the steward’s wife and feared the evil in this place of refuge was more sinister than she had imagined.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The musty stench of mold was strong in the windowless hut.
“I am innocent of murder, Brother.” Hilda sobbed as she cowered in the corner.
“I would prove that and speed your release,” he said, “but you must answer my questions fully, truthfully, and without hesitation.”
Although she might not see his own tears in the dim light, Thomas rubbed all traces from his cheeks. How could a woman be transformed into this thin shadow of despair within so few hours? Yet, as he recalled his own first day of imprisonment, he knew he should understand well enough just how quickly loss of hope sucked life from a man.
“I swear I left the kitchen but once or twice the night Tobye was cruelly slaughtered. You saw me asleep when you awoke for prayer. It was so cold that my trips to the privy were brief.”
Did she omit mention of Huet’s testimony, knowing he had lied? Thomas was about to ask, then decided she might not want to bring attention to the falsehood, fearing it would weaken her case. Or perhaps she thought the statement of a monk would have greater merit than that of a one who had abandoned the priesthood, and thus it mattered not what the latter might say? Did she wonder why the man had lied? He opted to abandon all those uncertainties and probe for answers to more immediate questions.
“Did you ever meet with Tobye in the stable and couple in sin?”
“I have never known any man, Brother, although I confess I dreamed of it.”
“Did you know the women who actually shared his bed?”
She turned her face from him, and in the feeble light he saw the profile of her hand pressed against her mouth as if to stop words from tumbling out.
“You must tell me what you know or have heard. Let me decide what information might best save your life and what can be forgotten here.”
“I am a servant to this family and owe them loyalty. To speak ill of any amongst them would be a betrayal.”
A most revealing response to his question, Thomas thought, considering what he had already learned about Mistress Luce. If the wife’s adultery was so well known, there was little reason to doubt that Master Stevyn was also aware of the cuckoldry and, like any husband, would be disinclined to ignore it. Who might she be trying to protect: master or lady? “If you distinguish what you know from what you have heard as rumor, there are few who would find fault with you. Most certainly not I.”
“What is my life worth if Master Stevyn casts me out because he learns what I have said? Even if I am found innocent of his groom’s murder, I shall suffer the shame of being condemned as a faithless servant while I starve.”
“Let God be the judge of your words. If your heart holds no malice and your testimony brings to light some relevant family sin, your act will have been a righteous one. He will surely protect you.” Yet how reasonable was that? Thomas asked himself, knowing full well she had cause enough for fear in a world ruled by mortals. He tried unsuccessfully to silence that blasphemous whisper from his soul.
Hilda closed her eyes and silently moved her lips as if praying that the burden of this moment be lifted from her shoulders. Tears glistened on her cheeks in the pale light, but she ignored them. “I lied in the courtyard, Brother. I was jealous. Tobye had other women, for cert, and I envied them even though I could never have bedded him even if he had truly wished it. I feared Hell too much. Why is it that we long for something that we fear with equal strength? Will God forgive me for that?”
“Did you ever harm his bedfellows in any way?”
“Only in my heart, Brother, but that alone must make the Devil leap high with joy.”
Sin enough perhaps, but he knew far graver ones than this woman could even imagine. “If Satan did, his prancing was short-lived. God is gentler with faults that never hurt another mortal.” He waited for her to continue.
“Isn’t confessing my lie about the jealousy enough?” Her voice wavered.
Thomas hoped she could see understanding and forgiveness in his smile despite the gloom. “He had other women. Who were they?”
Rubbing her hands together in tortured agony, Hilda groaned, then bent closer to him and whispered, “Mistress Luce. I know that. Once I saw her coupling with him against the wall like some common woman, but methinks there was another who came from the manor house that horrible night.”
Thomas tried to hide the surprise as he asked: “Who was she?” Doubt took residence in his heart. She had heard Ranulf’s claim that he had seen her in the stable. Was she now claiming that she had seen a woman too? To corroborate the testimony of the steward’s eldest son, and suggest that he had been wrong only in the identification of the woman, was a clever ploy. Nay, he thought, she was not possessed of such crafty wit.
“Who was this person?” he asked again, wondering how vague her answer would be.
“I was coming out of the privy and saw a woman’s shadow near the stable. Then she slipped inside. I saw only her shape, never her face.” She flinched and turned away. “Aye, Brother, once or twice I did spy on him, but my intent was never to betray his lovers even though my heart ached with envy. Maybe that pain was my penance for the wicked longing of my flesh?”
“Quite possibly,” he said gently, “but your sin is light enough. Tell me what else you saw or heard. You might find a readier forgiveness if the eavesdropping reveals a killer.”