“And, if anyone asks me, I can truly say thatso far as I know, I do not have the book in my possession. What I suspect can remain my own business.”
They smiled widely at each other, pleasedwith that sophistry. A heavy wind shook the windows and acold draught whispered across the rush matting to startle the fireinto burning higher. Frevisse pushed her shoulders back andsat up straighter on the stool. “I’ve sat been here toolong. I still have questions to ask. The servers at thefeast may be able to tell me something.”
Sire Philip sobered, the ease leaving hisface. “It isn’t something that can just be left. Andyet, in some ways, I wish we could leave whoever did it to God’sjudgment and mercy.” That had never entered Frevisse’sconsideration, and before she could form a reply, he asked, “Whatmade our lord bishop think there was a human rather than the divinehand in Sir Clement’s death?”
“He said he had heard Sir Clement demandGod’s judgment too many other times. He didn’t see why thistime in particular God should choose to answer him. He wanted to besure it was God who chose this occasion and not someonemortal.”
“And now you agree it was someone else, notGod. Why?”
Frevisse thought before answering, becauseshe was not sure exactly when or how she had changed her opinion,but finally said, “Partly because it seems an unreasonable way forGod to kill a man. A great deal of the lesson for the rest ofus was lost by not having him simply die outright at thefeast.”
“And your presume to understand God’s intentin these things?”
Frevisse forebore to acknowledge thejibe. Instead she said, “In The Cloud of Unknowingit’s said that each person comes to God at a different pace. Today some men who knew Sir Clement said he was changing of late,that he was not so violent as he had been, nor demanded God’sjudgment so often. Maybe, in his own wickedly slow way, hewas coming to God. Would God take a man still deep in sin whowas at least beginning to come toward grace?”
at least beginning to come toward grace?”
“God might,” Sire Philip said. “In factI know he does.” He waited, and when she did not answer, headded, “Those aren’t the reasons you’re going on with this.”
Frevisse watched the fire play among the logsfor a while, feeling her way among her own thoughts before saying,“No, they aren’t. I want to know what happened. Whatreally happened, not what we imagine happened. I want to knowwhether there was a human hand in this, or if it was indeed God’sact against a sinning man.”
This time she waited and it was Sire Philipwho did not answer. He did not even move but, like her, satstaring into the flames.
Frevisse rubbed her hands over her face wherethe skin felt dried and tight from the fire’s warmth and finallysaid, “I also remembered the old story of the devil and a summonertraveling together, where the devil refuses to take a cart andhorses, though their driver in a bad temper is wishing them tohell. But later when the summoner is tormenting an old womanand she wishes him to hell, the devil takes him on theinstant because, says the devil, he knows a true wish when he hearsit. I wish we could believe that in the moment Sir Clementdemanded God’s judgment yesterday, he truly wanted it, if only forthat single moment, and so God gave it to him. I wish I couldbelieve that. But I don’t.”
She waited, but again Sire Philip saidnothing. The fire made small sounds in the stillness, and shedid not look at him because she knew he was looking at her and shedid not want to see his expression.
It was a relief when Dame Perpetua appearedfrom the shadows of the doorway and said eagerly, breaking thesilence between them, “There you are, Dame Frevisse! I’vebeen looking everywhere for you.”
“And I came here looking for you,” Frevissereturned. She and Sire Philip were both drawn to their feetby Dame Perpetua’s obvious excitement. “You found it?”
Smiling with triumph, Dame Perpetua held outa slender volume. “Here, in here, there’s exactly what youwanted.”
Frevisse took the book from herexcitedly. “Why, it’s Galen.” The master of alldoctors, the Roman authority second only to Aesculapiushimself.
“Here.” Dame Perpetua took the bookback and opened it to a place marked by a broken end of aquill. “On the right side.”
She pointed and Frevisse read. SirePhilip came around to read over her shoulder. When they hadfinished, he stepped back and they all three looked at one anotherfor a silent moment, until Dame Perpetua said, “It was MasterLionel who found it actually. Found the Galen and said heremembered something was in there about rashes and all.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing as this,”Sire Philip said, indicating the book.
“Nor I, but there it is. Some of what Ineeded,” Frevisse said.
Dame Perpetua’s face fell. “Noteverything?”
“It tells me in a general way what killedhim, but not precisely. Nor who gave it to him. Orhow. Though I’m beginning to guess,” she added.
Sire Philip looked at her sharply. “Youhave an idea of the murderer?”
“Oh dear. I hoped I’d done so well,”Dame Perpetua sighed. “Or rather that Master Lionel had.”
Frevisse patted her arm. “You’ve donewonderfully.” She raised her voice. "And so have you,Master Lionel. Thank you.”
Dame Perpetua said, “Oh, I forgot to tellyou. Word has come that the crowner will be here certainly bylate tomorrow morning.”
“Then the matter is out of your hands,” SirePhilip said to Frevisse.
He was right. The crowner would takewhat she had learned so far and thank her and dismiss her becausethere was no place for her, a nun and a woman, in hisinvestigation. Bishop Beaufort would be satisfied there wasan answer other than God to Sir Clement’s death. She couldreturn to her grief and to tending her aunt, and be done with SirClement. But last spring she had used her cleverness toshield the guilty from the law. She would probably never knowwhether she had been right to do so, or sinfully in error. But here, now, she had chance to make reparation for that byfinding out another murderer, more deeply guilty than the one shehad protected.
“No,” she said in answer to SirePhilip. “I’m not done with the matter yet.”
Chapter Fifteen
Beaufort waited at the window, watching thebleak day. Below him the lead-dull waters of the moatroughened under the wind; beyond the moat, the black, weaving limbsof the elms troubled the sky. He shivered slightly – theweather was turning more bitter by the hour – and turned backtoward the room as one of his clerks ushered in Master Broun, DameFrevisse, and her companion nun.
Beaufort frowned and sat down in hiscurved-armed chair without offering his ring to them or thesuggestion that they be seated, too. He had expected DameFrevisse, with inevitably the other nun, but not Master Broun, anddid not care for the presumption. Guessing it was hers ratherthan his, he asked curtly, “You have reason for bringing MasterBroun, Dame Frevisse?”
Master Broun showed his surprise. “Mylord, I thought you wanted me, that perhaps you felt unwell. The stresses of these past days-”
“I am, thank God, in health.” Beaufortmade a point of avoiding the attentions of physicians so far as hemight. Given a chance, they found things wrong that theyclaimed needed to be treated in expensive ways that were usuallyuncomfortable and, in Beaufort’s opinion, mostlyunefficacious. He understood too well in himself the lure oftrying things because one had the power to do so not to recognizethe trait in others. “Your being here is Dame Frevisse’sdoing. She asked to see me.”
He fixed her with a look that held warningthat his time was not to be abused. She bowed her head to himand with admirable brevity said not to him but to Master Broun, “Ineeded your very expert opinion on a medical matter, and thoughtyou would more readily and attentively give it if you understoodhis grace the cardinal was also interested.”