“To save you from hanging,” was the warm reply.
“You believe me?” She gasped. Her hand now pressed against a heart thundering with inexpressible gratitude.
“Are you not innocent?”
“Full of sin I most certainly am but not of the crime of murder.”
“But are you guilty of unseemly gossip?”
“I do not understand.” Hilda shook uncontrollably.
“Come now! Women are wont to chatter like squirrels, accusing anyone, not in their current company, of sins born solely in the fens of their unreasoned minds. Have you never done that? Do not lie, for I have overheard the chittering often enough amongst the servants.”
The cook opened her mouth to speak, but she was unable to form words.
“What did you say to that priest from Tyndal? Did you prate on and on as is the wont of creatures like you?”
“He took my confession, only that!”
“Only a confession of your own frailties? Nothing of your fevered imaginings about the sins of other souls? I think you are lying, Hilda.”
She shook her head.
“Give me your hand.”
The cook did so but felt no comfort in the warmth of the strong grip.
“Do you swear that you did not impugn anyone?”
Eagerly, she nodded. Her hand was released.
“But you wanted to do so, didn’t you?”
Hilda looked away.
“Of course you did, you frightened and wretched one. Most people would be willing enough to point the finger at someone else to save themselves from choking on the noose.” The laughter that followed held no mirth.
“I did not try to save myself by so doing,” the cook whispered. Her words were greeted with a long silence.
“Come with me then. You shall be freed of this place.”
Hilda now eagerly took the proffered hand, rose, and turned toward the door.
That was the last thing she saw.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When Thomas saw the gate to the courtyard open and the sheriff with his company ride in, he uttered a curse for which he would surely owe penance. Sunlight was still but a promise. Sir Reimund had arrived earlier than expected.
“Shouldn’t you be in the chapel praying, Brother? As we approached the manor, I heard bells announce the Office.”
“This woman’s soul cried out to me,” the monk replied, gesturing at the dark outline of the hut. “For such a cause, God may allow postponement of my prayers.”
The saddle creaked as Sir Reimund twisted to look around. “And where is your prioress? Have you sent her off to pray in the chapel, a place most proper for her to remain?”
Itching to pull this man off his horse and strike him for his insolence, Thomas folded his hands firmly into his sleeves and let his heavy silence be the sole expression of his fury.
The sheriff grinned, his teeth white against the gray light of morning. “Forgive me, Brother. I did forget the ways of your Order. Unnatural as the practice may be to most of us, she rules you, does she not?”
“Do not all men honor their mothers and bow to the Queen of Heaven?”
Reimund nodded, his assent perfunctory.
“In like manner, I obey my prioress, a woman who represents our Lord’s mother on earth.”
“Then I must beg her prayers on my behalf,” the sheriff replied with a brusque courtesy that did little to hide his impatience to get on with the task at hand. “I have come for the accused. Will someone announce my arrival to Master Stevyn?”
“I need no servant to roust me from my bed at this hour,” the steward called out as he rounded the side of the hut. Even against the dreary light of a struggling morning, his face was pale.
“I would offer God’s consolation before she is taken off to some cold cell,” Thomas said.
“She’ll have priests aplenty before her hanging. I promise you that. Meanwhile, we must swiftly be on our way. Other, unsolved crimes await our attention.” The sheriff gestured abruptly to one of his men. “Bind and bring her out of there.”
“Grant her that mercy of a priest’s comfort, Sir Reimund,” the steward said. “She and her kin have served this land well for many years, and Brother Thomas may bring her solace.”
Thomas was startled at the sorrow evident in the man’s tone.
The sheriff studied the steward as if he were assessing the value of a bale of wool.
Have you decided if there is some advantage to gain from consent? Thomas’ heart filled with more than a little anger.
Sir Reimund turned to the monk. “Give her a short prayer for the journey then, Brother. We’ll remain by the open door where she may see us. Perhaps the grave nature of her foul crime will at last pain her like the prick of the knife she used to slit the groom’s throat.”
Pray, I must, Thomas thought with bitter regret, for I shall be prevented from asking anything that might save the poor woman’s life. He walked to the hut door and waited as the assigned guard fumbled with the bar that bolted it. Finally, the man managed to raise it.
“We’ve come for thee, wretch,” the guard called out as he stepped into the hut. Almost immediately, he stumbled backward, crossing himself in terror. “The Devil’s been here!”
Shoving the man aside, Thomas rushed inside.
Hilda lay on her stomach. The air reeked with the sharp metallic odor of blood. Even in the dim light, it was obvious that her back was stained dark with it.
***
“Surely this proves her innocence, Sir Reimund,” the steward said, his tone brittle with barely controlled outrage.
His arms crossed, the sheriff scowled. “I’ve known a man to commit self-murder by driving his forehead against a bare nail in the wall of his cell. She probably did this to herself.”
“Bring me a torch,” Thomas ordered and knelt by the body.
The steward pushed his way through the sheriff’s men and shouted for one of his servants to fetch one. “Quickly!” he bellowed, then swiftly backed away from the entrance. “My lady!” he said, his voice softening.
Eleanor walked into the hut. “What has happened?”
The sheriff emitted a palpable groan before turning to greet her with a token bow. “Nothing to trouble you, my lady.”
“All sin is of interest to me for I obey a Master far greater than any earthly king,” she retorted, “and murder is amongst God’s first prohibited acts. Would that not qualify as a sin, Sir Reimund, and thus one of my concerns?” Without waiting for him to reply, she walked past him to where her monk was kneeling.
A servant rushed in with the requested torch.
“I need light here.” Thomas pointed, then leaned closer as the flickering light brightened the back of the woman’s head. Gently, he turned her over and touched her neck before bending to place his ear to her mouth.
“You need not do that, Brother. One of my men…”
“Be silent!” the prioress snapped.
Reimund and Stevyn glanced at each other. The steward shrugged, and the sheriff kicked at some straw before stepping away.
“I think she is still alive, my lady,” Thomas said. “For how much longer, however, I cannot say.”
Eleanor quickly removed her outer cloak and gave it to him. “Wrap her in that.” She turned to the steward. “She must be moved from here. If her soul continues to cling to this body, she may yet point out her attacker and perhaps the one who did murder Tobye.”
Stevyn went to the entrance and shouted an order.
“If only we had Sister Anne with us,” Thomas whispered, wrapping the woolen cloak around Hilda as tenderly as if she were a babe.
“You must do your best, Brother, and remember what you have seen her do in like situations.”
He looked at her, eyes darkened by worry, and finally nodded.
The sheriff grunted. “The woman is guilty and deserves to die, my lady. It matters not if she does so because of this wound, which she may well have inflicted on herself, or by the grace of the hangman’s noose. My only regret, should she die here, is that others, who might be tempted to kill, will not see her jerking body and thus be reminded that they shall suffer the same fate if they commit a similar crime. To see the hangman at work is a fine deterrent to murder.”