But that was not to the point rightnow. Permitting himself a smile of appreciation for hercompletion of his quote, he said, “Exactly. So I would knowwhether Sire Philip is a murderer or not before I begin to trusthim.”
“There was… strife between him and SirClement?”
“Sire Philip is freeborn, but onlybarely. His father was still villein to Sir Clement's fatherwhen Sire Philip was born, but Sire Philip's mother was a freewoman and he was born on her freehold property and is thereforefree from birth himself, according to the law. His fatherlater bought his way out of villeinage and, with his wife'sproperty and help, became quite prosperous and provided botheducation and opportunities for his sons. Sire Philip inparticular took best advantage of the possibilities, and looks togo far in the Church. But Sir Clement has been making claimthat he has proof Sire Philip is not freeborn after all. Is still,in fact, a villein and therefore Sir Clement's property. IfSir Clement had pursued and proved such a thing, Sire Philip'sfuture would have been severely hampered.”
“But Sir Clement had not pursued it intocourt yet?”
“And curtail his sport? The torment ofthe uncertainty of his victims was among the things he mostenjoyed.”
“By your words, he had more victims than SirePhilip,” Dame Frevisse said. “Sire Philip won't be the onlyone who might be glad to have him dead. Possibly he's noteven the only enemy who was present at the funeral feast.”
“Most assuredly. Now mind this: SirePhilip does not know how much I know about him. He only knowswe both agreed Sir Clement was a pain better avoided ifpossible. So when you begin questioning people about SirClement and his death-“ Dame Frevisse raised her eyebrows atthe word “when”. Beaufort did not care. She was goingto do this thing for him, whatever she thought. “-he willhave no reason to suspect you are especially interested in him,since you cannot know there was especial reason for him to want SirClement dead. Do you understand?”
Chapter Ten
Frevisse found that on closer acquaintanceshe did not much like Bishop Beaufort. Nor the way that hewas watching her across the little distance between them with theremote calculation he would probably give to a property he wasthinking to invest in. And she doubted he cared that she waswatching him as warily as she would an adversary about to make athreatening move. He did not care, she thought, whether aperson liked or disliked him, so long as they did what heasked. And did it well.
What had Chaucer told him about her? Why would such a powerful man ask this of her? In a cool,level voice that she hoped matched his own, she said, “I understandand will try to do as you wish, my lord bishop.”
Bishop Beaufort nodded, then made a gracefulgesture of dismissal. He would always be graceful in success,Frevisse thought, and wondered how he was in defeat. Sherose, made low curtsy to him again, and left. Dame Perpetuasilently followed.
Interested and speculative looks were turnedon them by people in the outer room, but Frevisse walked throughwithout raising her head, the cloth-wrapped bundle pressed againsther middle by her folded hands, her veil swung forward on eitherside of her face in appearance of holy modesty.
In truth she was feeling nothing remotelylike holy, and just then modesty was the least of herconcerns. But she wanted no one to speak to her; she did nottrust her ability to answer well or even politely. She wantedto be alone, to think about what Bishop Beaufort was asking. With the instinct of her years in St. Frideswide's and herknowledge that with Ewelme crowded with guests tonight there was noprivate place to go to, she retreated to the chapel.
In its antechamber, as Frevisse reached forthe door handle, Dame Perpetua touched her arm, stopping her. “Dame Frevisse, how is it with you?” she asked gently.
Frevisse turned to her. “How much didyou hear of what he asked of me?”
“All of it, I think. Will you be ableto do what he wants of you?”
It had been for her commonsense and goodmanners that Dame Perpetua had been chosen to come with her, nordid Frevisse have any doubt of her discretion. But this wasnot something she thought she could share. “I don't know,”she said, her voice sharpened with her own desire not to beburdened with the problem. “I don't even know if I know howto try.” She reached for the door again. “I need topray awhile.”
Behind her, Dame Perpetua said quietly,“Prayer is meant to be a strength and guidance, not a hidingplace.”
Frevisse paused as the justice of thatwarning struck to the soft core of her conscience. She had noreply. Her darkness was her own, and God had not yet shownher the way out of it. Until he did, prayer was her onlyease. And her only guidance. She did herself that muchjustice: She was searching for a way out of the darkness of herregret, a way through forgiveness – God's and her own – intoacceptance of her deeds, not into escape from them, ordenial. And prayer was the only way she had. Prayer wasnot her hiding place but her hope.
But that was not something to be put intowords here and now. After a moment, not answering DamePerpetua, she went on into the chapel.
Sir Clement's body was laid out whereChaucer's body had been yesterday. There was no coffin yet;the body, completely enveloped in its white shroud, rested onboards set on trestles covered with black cloth, seemly enoughuntil a coffin could be made. His relatives would depart withthe body tomorrow, Frevisse supposed. No, the crowner stillhad to come, as he always did, to investigate any uncertain orviolent death. Neither Sir Clement's body nor his familywould be able to leave until then, and there was no way to know yetwhen the crowner would arrive.
She crossed to the far side of the chapel,Dame Perpetua behind her. It was dim here, well away from thedoor and from the light of the few candles set around Sir Clement'sbier. She recognized Jevan kneeling at the head of thecorpse, his face above his clasped hands touched with the warm goldcandlelight. Three others, one of them Master Gallard theusher by his shape (but subdued and motionless for once), knelt ina row beside the coffin, facing the altar, their backs toher. In a hush of skirts, Dame Perpetua sank down to herknees beside her. Frevisse followed her onto the familiarhardness of stone floor, bowed her head, folded her hands together- and found that instead of going readily into the comfort ofprayer, she was staring blindly at the floor in front of her,thinking of the problem she had been set.
There was no question but that she had to doas Bishop Beaufort had asked. He was her religious superior,and there was nothing immoral or illegal about his request. Though St. Frideswide's Priory was in the bishopric of Lincoln, nothis of Winchester, he was still a bishop and moreover a cardinal,and his power and influence stretched where he wanted them to inEngland. If she failed to obey him, she might suffer for itin some way. But if she tried and honestly failed, shethought he would accept her failure without blame.
But the problem remained of how to attemptwhat he had asked.
He doubted Sir Clement had been struck downby God. Why? And why did he believe it possible thatSire Philip had murdered him? He wanted to know what hadhappened because he had plans for Sire Philip and wanted to be sureof him. Sure that he had not committed a murder – or surethat he had? her mind treacherously suggested. She was notsure Bishop Beaufort had made that distinction clear when he askedher to learn the truth.
But at least he had given her the priest'spossible motive. The threat of villeinage was a heavy thingto hold over a man. And yet Sire Philip had been singularlyundisturbed by the insults Sir Clement had thrown at him yesterday,as if neither they nor Sir Clement particularly mattered tohim.
Or had he been hiding his true reaction withexceptional skill?
And if he or someone else had killed SirClement, how had it been done?