Belladonna At Belstone Part 24

"Why should I want to hurt him? He was only trying to find the murderer!"

"Yes," Hugh agreed.

"Do you suggest that I am a killer?"

Hugh shrugged. As he opened his mouth to respond, Constance came from her chamber.

"Denise? What is it?"

"I came to see how this knight was, but this rude little serf accused me of trying to kill him."

"I said nothing," said Hugh comfortably.

Constance smiled wearily. She had slept badly the night before with all the excitement, and now this daft old alcoholic was trying to pick a fight so she must be drunk again. All Constance wanted was peace and quiet to reflect on Elias, and the inebriated sacrist was preventing her.

Still more annoying was the fact that Constance did not want Denise shouting in the room and waking the other two invalids. Adopting a tone of gentle persuasion, she suggested, "Denise, why don't we go to the frater and talk? I could do with getting out of here for a while."

"I've spent most of the morning in the frater," Denise muttered, confirming both Hugh's and Constance's impressions.

"Why don't we walk in the garden, then? Some fresh air would do me good."

Denise nodded. To Hugh's eye she looked almost ridiculously eager to take Constance away. "Yes, out to the garden. It's nice and quiet out there."

Bertrand was still panting slightly, an oily sheen of sweat breaking out upon his brow as he appeared before the Bishop of Exeter. "My Lord, I am delighted to see you," he declared, and bent to kiss the proffered ring. "I trust your journey was not too strenuous?"

"Strenuous? No, not overmuch. Yet I would have preferred to travel straight to Exeter and see how things were rather than having to be diverted all the way here."

"I know, my Lord. It is a disgraceful state of affairs," Bertrand agreed unctuously.

"Certainly it is," Stapledon said, peering around at the prioress who stood at his side. "Three murders and the attempt to kill my friend Sir Baldwin de Furnshill. And then," he added, "a fool tries to suggest that my good friend and sister in Christ, Lady Elizabeth, was herself guilty of murder."

"I was called here bya"*

"A woman who wished to remove my Lady to gain power for herself," Stapledon stated relentlessly. "And I suspect you foresaw your own enhancement in the matter. You thought you might more speedily gain preferment."

"Oh, my Lord, no! I was acting for the best interests of the convent."

"Then who was the murderer of the three?" Stapledon asked silkily.

"I fear I do not know, but I am sure thata*

Stapledon eyed him with chill severity. Then he raised a hand and beckoned. Elias had been standing, unknown to Bertrand, just behind him, and the suffragan felt a sinking feeling as he recognised the canon.

"Elias, you shall go with the prioress to the dorter. The prioress will show you where to go. The treasurer has a large chest. You will bring it here."

Simon rushed from the frater and went to the entrance to the dorter, pounding up the stairs to the infirmary.

"Sir?" Hugh asked.

Simon went to Baldwin and peered down at him. "Has Denise been in here?"

"Yes, sir. She came in to ask about the knight, but then went out."

"Which way did she go?"

"Constance suggested the orchard."

Simon paused. "Constance is with her?"

"Yes, sir. Said she wanted the fresh air."

"s.h.i.t!"

The noise had woken Baldwin, although Cecily remained deep in her drugged sleep. Baldwin himself felt groggy, woken too soon from a deep slumber. He yawned and stretched, wincing at the quick pain in his head. "What is it, Simon?"

"I think Denise is the killer, and now she's gone out with Constance."

"Then go and find them!" Baldwin commanded. "Leave me and go!"

"Stay here, Hugh," Simon said and hurried out. On the stairs he came across the prioress and Elias. "Prioress, I think Denise is the murderer, and she's gone out with Constance to the orchard. Constance might be in danger - where is the orchard?"

Astonished, she gave him directions, and Simon sped away. Elias hesitated, eyes as wide as a startled deer, staring at the prioress.

"My child, I don't know if this is a good idea or not, but G.o.dspeed! Go and guard Constance," she said, and Elias darted down the stairs after the bailiff.

The orchard was a clear s.p.a.ce at the northernmost edge of the precinct. Although sheep and lambs wandered among the apple and pear trees, mumbling at the shin-high gra.s.ses, Simon could see no sign of the two women as he rushed along the wall. He was aware of Elias pounding along behind him, but the bailiff's attention was fixed upon the small pasturage, staring about, trying to catch sight of either nun.

He came to a gate, and leaped over, landing solidly and gazed about him wildly. Elias appeared at his side, his head slowly traversing from left to right. It was hard to see anything, the area was so overgrown. Trees stood with their branches unpruned, each looking like a small thicket in its own right, and while the two men should have been able to peer underneath the lowest branches, so many trees had toppled over and the gra.s.s itself was so long, that it was impossible to see anything.

Simon pointed. "You go that way, halfway from here to the far wall, and wait for me. I'll go a similar distance to the right here, and then we'll go in. One of us must see them wherever they are."

Elias nodded and ran off while Simon made his way further up. Turning, Simon made sure that Elias was in his place, then dived between the ranks of st.u.r.dy boughs.

He had to climb over a trunk within a few paces, and then he slipped and almost fell in a pile of sheep's dung, but he kept his head moving, peering intently between the trees, to his left, before him, and to his right, his head swinging regularly as he sought the women. At one point he thought he had found them, seeing a dark movement on his right, but even as he stopped and prepared to launch himself in that direction, he saw that it was a sheep covered in mud. Cursing to himself, he carried on.

The farther wall was in view now, and there was still no sign of them. Simon walked to it, filled with anxious dismay. There were already three deaths, and he felt panic clutch at his throat at the thought that he might be about to find another body.

Then he heard a shout from Elias.

When he looked, he could see no sign of the monk, but he felt sure that Elias needed him. He gave bellow and set off immediately.

"What was that?" Joan demanded, looking up.

Hugh sat still, poised on the edge of his seat. He hated sitting here while his master could be in danger, even if only from one mad nun, but he had been given his order.

Joan ran to the window. "A call - a call from your master, Hugh."

He stood, looked down at Baldwin, then over to the window, undecided. "I can't hear anything," he said wretchedly.

"I could swear it was the bailiff, and he was in pain," Joan said, her expression anguished.

"He told me to stay here," Hugh said, glancing back at the knight.

Baldwin shifted a little on his bed, groaned as his wound pulled. "Hugh, if Simon is in danger, you should go to him," he said painfully. "I order you: go! I could never forgive myself if anything were to happen to him."

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Simon vaulted over a fallen trunk, ducked beneath a low branch, running along the line of the wall and staring between the trees until he saw the movement of a robe. Turning away from the wall, he soon came to the canon.

Elias was standing with his arms around Constance, and at her side, blearily glancing from Simon to Elias, was a befuddled-looking Denise.

Simon was so relieved, he almost sank to his knees in thanksgiving. Nodding to Elias, he said, "Is she all right?" There was no need for Elias to answer. Simon smiled. "You take her back. I'll bring Denise."

Elias and Constance needed no second prompting. They walked back to the convent, he with his arm around her shoulders while she gripped his other hand in both her own. Although her eyes were cast demurely downwards, Simon was sure he saw a tear fall down beneath her veil.

"Come on, Denise."

"Why? What's going on?" she demanded petulantly. "I wanted to come out for a walk with Constance, and now you want us to return. What right do you have to order me around, eh?" She was drunk, very drunk, from the look of her, and couldn't help but slur her words a little, even when she spoke with care, enunciating slowly.

"It's no good, Denise," he said. "We know the truth. Why did the girls have to die?"

"How should I know?"

"Where were you last night when Elias ran through the frater?"

"I told you: out in the b.u.t.tery. I heard him running, but I only caught a glimpse of him. I was filling my jug."

"Why should Katerine and Agnes have died, Denise?"

"Katerine was a nasty little wench who sought power over others. She even tried to blackmail me, you know. Said I was drunk before a service, the sow! Asked me for money to keep hush. And Agnesa well, she never hid the fact that she liked men. Especially," she gave a soft belch, "that fair-haired, fair-skinned, fair-featureda* she looked about her blankly for a moment, seeking inspiration, then apparently gave up. 'Priest! Nasty little man."

"If all that were true, it was no reason to kill them!" Simon said heavily.

"I never said it was," Denise agreed.

"So why did they die, then?"

"You'll need to ask the killer," she said unperturbably.

Before Simon could speak further, he saw Hugh ahead, waiting at the gate. "What are you doing here?" the bailiff asked.

"Well, we heard you shout and thought you might need help."

"No, no. That was just because Elias had found Constance and Denise. Did you leave someone with Baldwin?"

"Joan's there."

Joan stood over Cecily, tut-tutting in sympathy. The girl's features were drawn and appeared almost waxen, as if she would melt in direct sunlight or close to a warm fire.

It was strange to look down at her and see that abbreviated, mutilated stump where her arm should have been, and Joan crossed herself, thinking how curious it was that the one woman in the priory who was committed to helping the ill and bringing them back to full health had been the agent of G.o.d's will in destroying Cecily. It was not the outcome Joan had antic.i.p.ated when Cecily had gone sprawling over her leg in the laundry.

Not that it was truly intentional. It wasn't from malice that Joan had made Cecily fall. It was G.o.d's will; He had made her grab Cecily's foot in that way so that He could punish Cecily for her foul language.

Joan shook her head slowly. G.o.d was kind. Perhaps He had decided to allow Cecily to survive, even though she would always carry this wound marring her looks and potential - but maybe He would let a new arm grow from the stump! That, Joan thought, would be a miracle to rank with the best.

She left the lay sister's side and went over to Baldwin. Sitting at Hugh's stool, she beamed kindly at him. "How is your head, Sir Knight?"

"It has been better," he admitted.

"I am truly sorry it has given you such pain."

Baldwin was half-asleep, groggy and feeble, and he only listened with a part of his attention, but he managed a smile. "It was hardly your fault, Sister."

"No. It was G.o.d's will," she agreed seriously. "And when He decides to act, there is little ordinary people can do."

Baldwin said. "It wasn't G.o.d Who attacked me."

"Anyone is only a source of good, acting as He tells us, or bad, ignoring His instructions," she explained gently.

"Whoever dropped the slate on me was not acting for G.o.d," Baldwin said, closing his eyes. "That person murdered a young novice, which was a blasphemy."

"No, for G.o.d had ordained it. And she was of little importance, anyway. Just another of the young s.l.u.ts that populate the world now. She would never have made a nun."

"Of course she was important," Baldwin said. "She was only a youngster, a girl."

"You can't understand, Sir Baldwin. I think G.o.d chose to protect the convent in the only way left to Him. He couldn't help but retaliate when these girls misbehaved so obviously."

Baldwin looked at her, puzzled.

Joan went on carefully, as if trying to help him comprehend something terribly important: *You see, Lady Elizabeth has ruined the place, and that goes against the Rule created to save souls. It's far too important for a philandering woman like her. She has disgraced her cloth."

"Who should be in charge?"

"That's down to G.o.d, but Margherita's a good nun, and would make an excellent prioress. She is reliable and pious. I've known her all her life. Ever since poor Bridget gave birth to her."

Baldwin frowned. His head hurt abominably, but he knew it was crucial to keep concentrating. "That was the nun who ran away?"

"She did." Joan gave a thin smile. "And came back with a child - Margherita."

"But she ran away again, didn't she?"

"No, she didn't. You see, G.o.d was angry that she had disgraced her cloth. He told me to punish her."