Eleanor turned to Ralf. “What have you learned from your study of the corpse, Crowner?” Or rather what has our sub-infirmarian found, she amended in silence, and was grateful that he respected Sister Anne’s knowledge enough not only to listen but seek her advice.
“There were no signs of violence on his body, nor any other indication of struggle. His skin was mottled with red patches. His pupils were enlarged. He had vomited and had also drooled a great deal, staining his clothes. This suggests poison. Although the wineskin nearby was almost empty, there was enough left to find bits of leaves in it. The vomit contained the same. All this suggests Kenard drank wine mixed with a lethal dose of leaves from a plant called Lily of the Valley.” Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at Anne.
She lowered her head in subtle concurrence.
“Adequately done,” Fulke growled.
Ralf’s face colored, although his tightened jaw suggested a successful effort to control his temper.
“Both you and Brother John were trained apothecaries before taking vows,” Eleanor said to Anne, crafting her phrasing with care to suggest that John had been present at the examination of the corpse. In fact, he had been with his novices. “Based on that experience, what can be learned about this plant?” The prioress hoped she was also ambiguous enough to avoid the sin of bearing false witness.
“Brother John and I agree on this, my lady.” Anne now bowed her head in the direction of the sheriff. “It is a most dangerous plant, especially the leaves. Death occurs very quickly if mixed with a liquid and drunk.”
“Would someone be able to taste it and become suspicious?” Fulke grimaced.
“The flavor is much like that of wild garlic often used in soups.”
“That might be noticed in wine,” Eleanor said.
“Am I correct is assuming that this is a poison not well known by most?” Ralf eyed his brother.
Fulke glared back.
The sub-infirmarian ignored them both. “Lily of the Valley has medicinal use as well. The proper dosage requires training if death is to be avoided.”
“Curative?” Eleanor straightened. “What treatments?”
“Many believe it improves memory, strengthens the heart, soothes eyes, and even cures headaches.” Anne smiled at the prioress. “I prefer feverfew for the last since that herb is not lethal.”
“I am grateful!” Eleanor leaned back in her chair. “Let us now consider the deaths, the first being Baron Otes. Since our crowner has found no evidence that he was killed by lawless men or other local felons, we are obliged to look to members of the queen’s party for the man’s enemy.” The prioress turned to Fulke.
His face reddened, and he quickly bowed his head without offering either comment or protest.
“And enough men did hate the baron,” Ralf said.
“Well noted, Crowner. Do we know of any reason why Kenard, a servant, should have been poisoned?”
“No,” he said. “Nor do we know if there are two killers amongst the courtiers or just one.”
Fulke opened his mouth to speak.
His brother ignored him. “While the servant’s body was being removed, I did seek out Brother Thomas.”
The sheriff began to cough.
“I wanted to know what visitors he had that night and whether they were with him long enough to prove innocent of murder. Simon was the only one, and he is most certainly without guilt.” He fell silent as he looked at Fulke, then turned back to the prioress. “Since I have learned to respect the good hermit’s observations, I stayed to talk over the details of the deaths with him. He is troubled by the differences between the two and fears there may be two killers. He says that the facts of each crime suggest no unifying logic or pattern.”
Eleanor considered this. “Although I would never dismiss whatever he has to say, I am not sure I agree with his concern.”
“We know little about Kenard’s past or any connection with Baron Otes that might suggest a reason for his murder, my lady,” Ralf said. “It is possible he saw the baron’s killer or was somehow involved in that first death, reasons enough for a murderer to kill him also.”
“Then we must question the one person here who knows him best.” Falling silent, the prioress looked around briefly. “The Lady Avelina.” Before anyone could speak, she continued, “Although she is the queen’s lady, she is still a woman…” Carefully, Eleanor left the rest of the statement unspoken.
No one said a word.
Fulke blinked. “A woman should talk with her first,” he said. “It is more seemly.”
Grateful that the man had fulfilled her hope, Eleanor quickly asserted the authority to make the one investigation she deemed most important to do herself. “Then I shall go to her immediately and take Sister Anne with me. The lady’s fragile health has been violently assaulted by this shocking death of her servant. We must offer what succor we can. Such is our duty as God’s servants.” She began to rise.
“That would be wise as well as charitable,” Fulke snapped, his face quite scarlet. “Queen Eleanor will not be pleased if her own lady were to die in this priory as well as Baron Otes, her lord’s man.”
It was the prioress’ turn to glow with rising fury.
The atmosphere in the room grew foul with tension. “I do not think we should suggest that Tyndal Priory bears any blame in these deaths,” Ralf said, his tone apprehensive.
“We are casting everyone in the queen’s party into the shadow of suspicion,” Fulke growled. “Have we considered whether or not someone in this priory had cause to hate the baron?”
“Becalm yourself, brother! You act as if you yourself were a suspect, which you are not.”
Fulke deflated like a burst bubble. “I did not mean to offend,” he muttered with an abashed look. “I beg forgiveness, my lady.”
Eleanor’s face quickly recovered its usual hue. “Of course you did not, my lord, and your concern is justified. One of my religious confessed to me, soon after the baron’s body was found, that his family had been at odds with the murdered man. After swearing innocence of the death, he begged to be locked away in a cell until he had served penance for any uncharitable thoughts.”
“A penance which has continued,” Ralf added. “His cell is without windows, and the door is locked from outside.” He bowed to Eleanor.
“And I hold the key,” the prioress added. “All this was confirmed just before we met in my chambers. If there is but one killer, as I believe, then my monk has been proven innocent. If there are two…” She spread her hands. “He remains under my jurisdiction to examine, find innocent, or punish if guilty.”
“I never meant to question your authority on behalf of the Church, my lady.” Fulke nervously cleared his throat. “I withdraw my concerns about the innocence of all here. You have satisfied any doubts I might have had.” Then he turned to the crowner. “We must ask when and where Kenard acquired the full wineskin. Anyone could have easily slipped the poison into his drink. The poisoner could have been any man and done the deed anywhere.”
Ralf’s expression darkened as if he suspected his brother had continued to suggest that someone in the priory was guilty.
“There is so much that is unknown regarding the servant, his habits and his companions.” Eleanor tried to calm the evident strife between the two brothers by distracting them with questions. “Was the poison added before he came to the chapel? Why did he drink the wine so quickly? Had he been given something to increase his thirst?”
“Who?” Fulke shouted in evident frustration.
“Guards. Other servants.” Ralf pointed at his brother “How much time did Kenard spend with yours?”
“How dare you suggest that any man in my service would commit murder?” Fulke roared.
“I meant nothing by that. Maybe Kenard swyved some woman at the inn, and he so offended her that she sought revenge by putting lily leaves in his drink,” the crowner replied with an evil grin. “Shall I talk to the innkeeper about her wenches?”