“Every night, Crowner.” Conan bent forward and murmured. “And why have you had me followed? Are you really the king’s man or in league with another?”
Ralf came within a heartbeat of striking the man but drew back. It would not help matters if he lost his temper. If Conan was involved in Jean’s death and responsible for Renaud’s attack, Ralf needed indisputable proof. If the man were honest, he could help the crowner solve Jean’s murder. Either way, there was no doubt the captain was clever and not an easy man to trick into confession.
But the crowner had one more issue to resolve and laid his hand back on his sword hilt when he asked the question. “Why did you not report the death of the one of your men on the journey to Tyndal?”
Conan looked surprised, then shook his head. “It was not a matter worthy of your interest, Crowner.”
“I should be the judge of that.”
Noticing Ralf’s hand on his sword hilt, Conan raised his own hand and placed it against his heart. “The explanation is a long one, but I pray that the simple version will satisfy you. Need I remind you that I command this company of military guards under the authority of the king, and, as such, I determine the action required if a crime is committed?”
“I understand.”
“When I was in Wales, this particular soldier was accused of the mutilation and rape of several young women.” Conan shrugged. “There were probably witnesses to his crimes, but those men may have joined him in his acts or else feared his wrath if they spoke against him. Only the Welsh kin of the women gave testimony. The man’s commander decided that the charges against the soldier could not be proved. When I was chosen to lead the company on this journey, I discovered that this soldier would be under my command. I objected, but my plea was rejected. The man had friends.”
“Hell spawn,” Ralf said, his voice low with fury.
“On the way to this priory, I noticed that the soldier often rode beside the clerk, Jean, but I found no cause to intervene. When we arrived at an inn, I overheard him tell the youth to meet him in the stable early the following morning and he would show him something wondrous. Noting the youth’s feminine face and soft body, I feared ill intent.”
Ralf nodded.
“I have given my oath to protect this company of French liegemen so rose early myself lest the clerk need assistance.” He stopped and studied the crowner for a moment before continuing. “Imagine my surprise, indeed my relief, when I found the soldier dead.”
“And who killed him?” Ralf asked, then wondered if he truly wanted to know.
“One, it seems, who wished justice rendered. The soldier’s crimes were known to many, even if no one had spoken in support of the violated and tortured Welshwomen. We fight against their men in honorable combat, Crowner. What he did made angels and saints weep.”
For a long moment, both men looked at each other without speaking.
“Are you finished questioning me?’ Conan finally said and gestured toward the entrance gate.
With only a slight hesitation, Ralf stepped aside.
Conan walked out of the priory and back toward the village.
Chapter Twenty-three
Gracia opened the door to the prioress’ audience chamber.
Davoir strode in.
Seated in her carved wooden chair, Eleanor held her staff of office, an unequivocal symbol of her leadership over Tyndal Priory.
On her right side stood Brother Thomas, on the left Crowner Ralf.
“We have just received word that your clerk, Renaud, has regained consciousness,” she announced in a gentle voice, “and has suffered no significant harm.”
The priest nodded once, his body rigid and his expression replete with disapproval over the presence of the two men. The news of his clerk’s recovery did not merit even a blink of interest.
Eleanor tried not to judge him for his lack of compassion, but, to her knowledge, he had neither gone to his clerk’s side nor sent anyone on his behalf. She suspected that the first positive word he had received about the condition of his wounded clerk was what she had just relayed. As hard as she struggled not to condemn, she could not completely set aside her conclusion that he owned a stone heart.
His expression almost luminous with disdain, the priest folded his hands into a prayerful attitude, raised his chin, and cleared his throat. “I have decided that you are not fit to rule this priory,” he announced. “Although you will be treated with courtesy, I shall now take your place.” He stepped forward with his hand outstretched to take the staff from her hands.
“Indeed?” Eleanor swallowed her fury at his presumption and kept her tone even. “Although I choose to believe you spoke those words without malice or intent to defame the king who appointed me to my position here, I find your words offensive and, of course, refuse to comply.”
He reddened. “You have no right to contradict me. My clerks, if needed, will lock you away as we have your wicked sub-infirmarian.”
Ralf stepped forward.
Eleanor murmured something, and he stopped. She turned back to the priest. “Your authority in this investigation lies in discovery of wrongdoing and the offering of recommendations to our abbess in Anjou. When we last spoke, you said you had found no fault with Tyndal, other than some minor repairs, all of which we had planned to correct. Apart from your conviction that Sister Anne killed Jean, an unproven accusation, you have given me no reason to believe that Tyndal is in such fearful peril that you must take extraordinary measures beyond your authority.” She tilted her head and smiled. That expression might have been benign, but her eyes flashed with contempt for his arrogance.
He stiffened. “You allowed an incompetent woman to treat my clerk. She killed him out of ignorance or spite.”
“Unproven and thus irrelevant,” Thomas said.
“Silence!” the priest roared.
“I have given him permission to speak, and he shall.” Eleanor voice remained calm.
“You both are the Devil’s creatures, filthy with lust and rotten with sin!”
“Other than an allegation from an unnamed source, have you any proof that this tale is true?” Eleanor held her breath for just a moment and silently prayed.
The room filled with a silence that was as heavy as the air before a summer storm.
Davoir began to sway as if suddenly faint, and he put a hand over his face.
At a sign from the prioress, Thomas brought a chair for the priest and helped him to sit.
“Jean is dead. Renaud was attacked trying to protect me. My life is surely in danger. You cannot protect me. No woman could,” he mumbled.
“Again, Father, I ask whether or not the accusation against Brother Thomas and me has been proven.”
“No,” he muttered. “All hold you both in the highest regard.”
Briefly, Eleanor shut her eyes in gratitude. “Then you have no cause to remove me from the leadership of this priory.”
He slammed his fist down on the chair arm. “You have failed to safeguard my clerks!”
“You have failed to allow anyone to properly protect you,” Ralf snapped.
“This is God’s earth! Armed men have no right to be here,” the priest replied, half rising to his feet.
“And your clerks failed when they tried to use prayer as you insisted,” Ralf said. “Tell me how that proves you should wrest the priory from its proper leader and take over yourself.”
Davoir’s face turned blood red.
Eleanor bent toward the crowner, said something only the two of them could hear, and again faced the priest. “Father Etienne, you and I agree that the Church rules over this priory. We also agree that your two clerks have suffered violence, one fatal and one not.” She studied him for an instant and noted that his high color was fading. “You have also exonerated Brother Thomas and me from the vile accusations hurled at us.” She waited.
“I have found no evidence that the allegations are true, but I have not yet questioned everyone…”