“Have you spoken with Sub-Prioress Ruth?”
He nodded with evident reluctance.
“Surely you know that King Henry, as a boon to my father for his loyalty, sent me to lead this priory, although Tyndal had already chosen Sister Ruth, as she was then, to be their prioress.” Surely he did, she thought, but it was a fact that bore repeating.
He mumbled concurrence.
“She has good cause to resent that decision by our king, but Sub-Prioress Ruth is God’s most devoted servant.” She smiled. “She and I rarely agree, but I chose her as my sub-prioress over all others because of her competence and honor. If anyone would tell you of my failings, including the breaking of my vows, she would be honest enough to do so.”
“And she has not,” the priest replied, once again slumping in his chair. The admission had obviously and deeply distressed him. “She defended your virtue and that of Brother Thomas with fervor.” Unable to look at either monk or prioress, he turned his face away.
“Then let us agree that you have no cause to remove me from my position as head of Tyndal…”
“That statement in support of your innocence aside, I still do! You are a weak woman…”
She raised her hand. “Please let me finish, Father. You have not questioned all those whom you would like. That is understood, but you have yet to discover any proof that would suggest my guilt.” She hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Regarding the attacks against your clerks, I am obliged to protect all guests here from assault. We may debate which of us was the most negligent in this tragedy, but such an argument is futile when swift action is needed to catch a killer.”
“Action is what I require,” Davoir growled.
She ignored his tone. “I believe we agree that we must find a method to do this without the use of swords.”
The priest blinked.
“I wish to make the situation perfectly clear,” Ralf said, returning the prioress’ subtle nod at him. “Jean was murdered. You accused Sister Anne of this. Renaud was subsequently struck down. This attack could not have been done by the sub-infirmarian. It is my suspicion that you are the ultimate target for this violence. Even if you are not, you could still be in danger. Your other clerks have not been troubled in their duties, and they sleep in the monks’ dormitory where they are far safer. You, however…” He shrugged as if suggesting the final conclusion was obvious.
“This sub-infirmarian may have a host of imps under her control, those who are eager to turn suspicion away from her.” The priest’s voice shook.
“According to the lay brother who treated Renaud, the blow was a heavy one, not a woman’s light tap. For that reason, we can eliminate the possibility that the assailant was a nun or lay sister,” Ralf said. “When I questioned your clerk, he believed he had seen a ghost beckoning him, a shade that bore a man’s shape. I spoke with Prior Andrew. He knows his monks and lay brothers. He did not see any empty dormitory beds or notice anyone missing at an Office. Although this is not absolute proof that no monk or lay brother could be guilty of attacking Renaud, Prior Andrew’s testimony suggests that the men in Tyndal are innocent.”
Davoir’s eyes still flashed with annoyance, but his hot fury had muted. “Then what do you suggest?”
Ralf did not hesitate. “Allow the priory to free Sister Anne.”
Seeing the high color return to the priest’s cheeks, Eleanor winced. Although she longed to release her friend from her narrow cell, she knew she had to lead this reluctant priest to that decision slowly. Patience came hard, but the desire for a complete victory over this man made it easier. She asked the crowner to remain silent.
“You are probably safe in the company of your many clerks during the day,” she said to Davoir in a conciliatory tone. “At night, we must provide you with a proper guard and preferably set a trap for the guilty man. If we can catch him, we will end this chain of tragedies and bring justice to the dead and injured.”
“No weapons,” Davoir replied.
Eleanor was pleased that he had accepted the basic plan. “I agree in principle,” she said, “and believe the plan would not require several armed guards. I do fear that one sharp sword is advisable, lest the killer be armed himself or the man fall under the jurisdiction of the king’s law.”
Davoir scowled. “God will protect us here.”
“And He often does that by urging us to use the sagacity He gave us. Although I would not want more than one sword, two at most, I have learned that our crowner only uses his when God gives him no other choice. He would be the one chosen to carry the weapon, a sword which was once blessed on our altar.”
Ralf instantly stared at his feet with apparent humility. Only the prioress knew how shocked he was to learn that anything of his had been on the priory altar.
Davoir’s eyes shifted unhappily as he tried to find grounds to reject this idea. Finally, he sighed. “Very well.”
Eleanor tried not to betray her joy. “You may, of course, continue to question all whom you wish during the day in the continuation of your investigation. I would advise you to keep several of your clerks with you at all times.”
He nodded.
Ralf whispered a request to the prioress. When she agreed, he asked, “Do your clerks have any enemies? I apologize for this next question, but I must know. Is there anyone who might wish you ill?”
For the first time since his initial roars of outrage, Father Etienne gave some indication of cooperation. “My clerks are virtuous and have no enemies, other than some who might envy them. But I can think of no one who would let resentment morph into murder.” He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “As for myself, I have been shown great favor by King Philip and his brother. Even more honor awaits me on my return home. As all men are sinners, there will be those who wish me ill. But I can think of none who so hate me that they would endanger their souls by killing me.”
Ralf was not confident about that. He found the man reprehensible, an opinion he was wise enough not to express.
“Do you agree to set a trap for this creature that has killed one of your clerks and injured another?” Prioress Eleanor opted for a mollifying tone. Her own position and authority once again secure, she believed it tactful to offer the priest a choice. “It will be done at night.”
“I do, if I must,” Davoir replied, but his gaze remained on the ceiling as if hoping God might offer a better option.
With a sideways glance at Brother Thomas, she said, “Then let us plan it now.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Gracia stood outside the hospital trying to decide how to help her mistress in this matter of the autumn crocus jar without actually disobeying her commands. Were she still dwelling on the streets of Walsingham, she would have done whatever she deemed necessary, but she had a home again, different concerns, and others to consider. Dwelling in a priory was no different from residing with any family. There were rules.
But after her family had died and she was left to subsist by her own wits, she could no longer afford the habits or practices that the well-fed and warmly clothed deemed immutable. Survival demanded different precepts, and those lessons remained useful, even if they must be modified. In this matter of the clerk’s murder, all she had to do was look beyond the obvious, recognize the perfect opportunity to assist Prioress Eleanor, and not do anything foolish.
That opportunity presented itself.
“Sister Christina,” Gracia cried out and quickly rushed to the infirmarian’s side. “You look troubled. May I help in some way?”
The nun stopped and squinted. “Gracia,” she said, her face softening as she recognized the girl’s voice.
Gracia took Christina’s arm. Although Sister Anne was kind, the girl sometimes felt intimidated by her gravity and well-honed intelligence. With the gentle, extremely near-sighted infirmarian, Gracia felt only affection. “I was going to the hospital. If you were as well, may I accompany you?” While she would willingly take the nun wherever she wished, Gracia fervently hoped the planned destination was the apothecary hut.