Forsaken Soul (8 page)

Chapter Fifteen

The sound of feminine laughter shattered the concentration of the prioress at prayer. Unlike some of her vocation, Eleanor believed laughter to be one of God’s most gracious gifts to his mortal creatures. Instead of being offended at the interruption, she rose from her prie-dieu and thanked Him for His charity.

When she entered the public chambers, she saw Gytha and Signy standing near the window, their backs turned to the prioress.

How lovely the innkeeper’s niece is, Eleanor thought, as she watched the light dance in Signy’s hair, brightening the red-gold strands scattered amongst the blond. This was a woman who could easily ensnare a man’s heart.

Not long ago, Gytha had confided her suspicions that Tostig might have fallen under the woman’s spell, a development the loving sister found pleasing. Although Ralf had said nothing about it to her, Eleanor knew from other sources that the crowner had also been shown much favor by Signy in the days before he left to join his elder brother. Even now he seemed fiercely protective of her in the matter of the cooper’s death. Did an easy capturing of a man’s affection have any significance in this particular murder?

The women turned.

Signy knelt and asked for a blessing.

“Thank you for coming here,” Eleanor said. “The day is fair, and I regret darkening it with grim questions about a slaying. Nonetheless, justice demands it.”

“As does our crowner,” Signy replied, her voice betraying a hint of discontent.

“A man with many flaws.” Eleanor nodded in acknowledgement of the woman’s displeasure. “In that I would agree, but one of them is not an unwillingness to seek the truth.”

“My lady, I know I am here because I would not answer his questions the night Martin was killed. Despite my anger with the crowner, I most certainly have no quarrel with you. I will cooperate in any way so that justice may be rendered.”

At the prioress’ nod, Gytha slipped out of the room, leaving the two women to talk in private.

Eleanor poured dark golden ale from a sweating jug and passed the cool mazer to the innkeeper’s niece. “We all hold secrets in our hearts,” she said, “and I shall not stand in judgement on anything you might tell me. If it has no relevance to the death of the cooper, I will promptly forget it. Is that fair?”

Signy nodded.

“Then I may conclude that neither of us wants a killer to escape because some detail, no matter how inconsequential or even humiliating, was ignored or kept hidden out of shame or pride?”

Signy lifted the cup to her lips but failed to hide a rising color in her cheeks.

“God knows everything about us. Only His judgement matters, not the flawed opinions of mortals, including prioresses.”

“Ask what you will. I shall be honest in my answers.”

“Please tell me what you remember about the night Martin died.”

Despite the prioress’ encouragement, Signy had very little to tell. Ivetta had given more detail.

“Where did you get the food and drink? Did you deliver them directly to Martin’s room?” Eleanor asked at the end of the brief tale.

“The food was from the common pot, my lady. A stew of meat with wine, ginger, and onions. I poured the ale myself. Both I took directly up the…” Signy stopped, her lips now moving silently as if they insisted on finishing the sentence. “Nay, I did not do so!” she continued. “I stopped to speak with my uncle for a moment and put the platter and jug down on a nearby table.”

“Do you remember if anyone was sitting there?”

“Three men had just left.” She thought for a moment. “The table was empty. Had it been occupied, I might not have taken my eyes off such tempting fare, lest a man take a spoonful of something he had not paid for.”

“Who was nearby?”

“I do not recall, but anyone leaving or coming into the inn would have passed by. I was standing near the door…”

“Would your uncle remember?”

“I confess the subject of our conversation was a heated one, and he might not have noticed anything. I faced the door, not he, yet surely I would have become aware if some suspicious person had approached the platter. As for my uncle, I cannot truly speak for him.”

“Perhaps Crowner Ralf can ask him.”

“He must, I am sure.”

Eleanor deliberately took her time to sip some ale, waiting to see if Signy would continue. “What was the quarrel you had with your uncle?” she asked.

“Did I say
quarrel
, my lady?”

The prioress simply raised her eyebrows, sufficient reminder of the promise to speak with honesty.

Albeit with evident reluctance, the innkeeper’s niece nodded her concession. “It was about his willingness to rent a room to men who want a woman for the night. I did not like the practice.”

“I commend you in that.”

“My lady, forgive my sin in this matter, but I claim no virtue in my objection. Were I a man, I might permit the custom as well, for the little whoring does bring some extra coin. However, my uncle has no living kin and has promised the inn to me when he dies. No woman may allow whoring in her business if she does not wish to be called
bawd
herself
.
”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Eleanor said. “I can also understand how this dispute might have kept you both from seeing much that went on nearby, but I beg of you to please think back and try to recall any faces, or voices, of those who might have been close to hand. Did you see someone who hesitated, even for a brief moment, by the food and drink? An odd gesture perhaps? One caught out of the corner of your eye but quickly forgotten because of the nature of your discussion?”

Signy frowned. “There were many villagers there that night with much coming and going. The way to the inn door sometimes filled with customers, and a few may have bent close to the food and drink in an effort to squeeze by others. That said, I still do not recall anything unusual.” Her lips curled into a thin smile. “Our crowner was there himself and might have seen something of note, should he bother remembering.”

Eleanor nodded with encouraging sympathy.

“In the past, I might have suggested you ask old Tibia. She always saw things others did not, and she was at the inn for a bit of stew and ale that night.” She shrugged. “But I doubt she cares any longer about what goes on around her. With all the pain she now suffers, those sharp eyes have surely dulled. It is a blessing that she still eats. Even the king’s man might notice more than she.”

The bitter tone whenever Signy mentioned Ralf was not lost on Eleanor. “After you parted from your uncle, you said you delivered the food and drink to the room but did not say if anyone was with Martin.”

“Hob and Will were there. The three were arguing. When I entered, Will made lewd remarks about me, which caused much merriment for the cooper. I immediately set the tray and jug down on the table. Normally I would stay to make sure all was satisfactory and as requested, but I was both angry and fearful. I wanted to leave.”

“Was Ivetta there?”

“She was.” Signy squeezed her eyes shut. “She was there when I brought in the tray.”

The prioress reached out and took the woman’s hand. “I beg forgiveness for the pain my next question must cause, but I would not ask for such details if I did not think they might help the cause of justice.”

Signy nodded but kept her eyes shut.

“Did any of them rudely handle you?”

Tears edged Signy’s eyes. “Martin grabbed me and told Will to…”

Eleanor forced herself to remain silent.

“Hob pulled Will away before he could do more, and the two brothers left the room. Martin and Ivetta were laughing with such foul delight, I was able to escape.”

“Were you ever alone with any of the three men?”

“Ivetta was there the entire time, my lady. She had arrived before I did and was alone with Martin after I left. While Martin held me, she was the one to lift my gown so Will could put his hand between my legs…” She burst into tears.

Eleanor pulled the innkeeper’s niece into her arms and comforted her. Perhaps that would be all she could learn, she thought, but as Signy wept, the prioress’ thoughts shifted from anger to puzzlement. Was there significance in the difference between the tale told by Ivetta and the one she had just heard from Signy?

Chapter Sixteen

“If you want information, Crowner, talk to Will or Hob.” The innkeeper scowled as he recounted the dead rabbits lying on the table in front of him. “Ask the whore too. I’m a busy man.”

Ralf shoved the carcasses to one side and leaned toward the man. “The night of Martin’s death. I want details from you.”

Clearly annoyed at the interruption to his concentration, the man separated the rabbits once more, pointed a pudgy finger at the first one, and started yet another count.

“Answer my question. I’m not here to watch you pretend King Edward is stopping for his first good English meal since leaving on crusade.”

The innkeeper’s resigned sigh was as huge as he was. “Martin made the same arrangements he always did when he had Ivetta to himself for the night. He paid for the upstairs room and a proper meal to go with it. Something to break his fast the next morning as well, although he never got to that this time, did he? Now there’s a difference for you!” The innkeeper moved the carcasses to one side and dumped a basket of fish in their place. “Twelve rabbits,” he shouted to somebody. “Skinny. Tell Hanry to bring me fatter ones, or I’ll buy elsewhere.”

Ralf was sure the conies were poached but had usually ignored this one practice on the assumption that most lords were in little danger of running short of rabbits to feed upon. “Did the harlot come with him or later?”

“Later.”

“You got your share first?”

“I own the room, not the whore. He paid me what I asked when he made his arrangements. Ask her when he gave her whatever he thought she was due—or what, if that means anything to you.”

The crowner glanced at the fresh, glistening trout. The innkeeper had never cheated on the quality of what he served at the inn, giving fair value for anything sold. He might bluster and rant about prices and business above all else, but he was an honest enough man. Ralf decided he would probably tell him the truth despite his obvious reluctance.

“So Martin went up to the room alone?”

“Aye. He paid and climbed the stairs.”

“The harlot came next? No one else?”

“You think I have the time to spy like a woman on her neighbors? I’ve a business to run, something you seem to have forgotten.”

“You keep your eyes honed well enough for anyone who might cheat you of a tiny silver farthing or cause trouble.”

The innkeeper solemnly considered that for a moment, then his features relaxed as if he had concluded the observation was a compliment. “Hob and Will arrived, then the whore. The brothers often joined Martin upstairs for ale.” He snorted. “And more if the cooper was feeling generous.”

“Who served the food and drink?”

“My niece. Perhaps you might find some answers there, if you sing sweetly enough.”

Ralf’s face grew hot. “I am investigating a murder, not playing minstrel.”

Glaring at the king’s man, the innkeeper growled like an apprehensive dog. “She has yet to kill a man, Crowner, although she might have had cause—one time or another.”

Ralf swallowed a retort.

The man swept the fish back into the basket. “On her way to deliver the fare, she stopped to talk with me. She did not like that I rented the room upstairs to men who pay to swyve Ivetta.” Shrugging, he continued, “Not that I fault her, but the coin was reliable and Ivetta is clean. No one has claimed to have caught any sickness from her. Had anyone complained that they had done so, I would have banned her.”

The crowner nodded.

“While we talked, she put the tray down. Perhaps someone dropped the poison in the food then?”

“Did your niece always serve them?”

“Aye. She knows our inn depends on its reputation for good service given in exchange for good coin. She might not like doing it, but she understands business.”

“Did she say anything later about what she saw that night?”

“I didn’t ask her. Look, my niece has never been happy about this agreement. I do not want to start a quarrel so I never bring it up. See no point in inviting her woman’s squall. Now that Martin’s died, the whoring upstairs is done. It’s one thing to rent a room for a purpose I can turn my back to, but I don’t want the reputation of running a brothel. Ivetta can whore from now on in her own hut, if she can find the custom without her bawd.”

“Whatever you may have wished, your niece chose to confront you about the arrangement anyway. Was that a common practice of hers or had something different happened to cause it that night?”

“Nothing odd. That’s just a woman for you, continuing to argue about settled matters.” Shaking his head, the innkeeper lugged the fish basket over to the door. “These are ready to gut,” he shouted.

A man as tiny as the innkeeper was huge rounded the corner. With ease, he hoisted the basket onto his shoulder and disappeared in the direction of the inn’s cookhouse.

The fish had looked good, Ralf thought, his stomach issuing an appreciative rumble. Maybe he’d return for the evening meal. “Where did your niece put her tray down?” he continued.

“At the table near the door.” The innkeeper waved for the crowner to follow him into the public room, then pointed out the specific place.

“And who passed by while you talked?”

“My back was to it. Ask Signy if you want details.”

“No one was sitting there? On such a busy night?”

“You were near. Why don’t you ask yourself if you remember anyone?”

Ralf walked over to the innkeeper and jabbed a finger into the man’s chest. “Mock and you may find your inn is filled with my men often enough to frighten away anyone with the slightest fear of the king’s justice.”

The man stepped back. “No need, Crowner, no need! I have told the truth. I saw nothing, remember nothing, and am too busy to care what anyone is doing. Were I to notice such things, I might be crowner instead of you.” He yelped as Ralf shoved him. “A jest! ‘Twas a jest!”

Ralf did not step away. His teeth were so close to the innkeeper’s nose he could have bitten it off.

The man bent back as if he feared that was exactly what the crowner had in mind. “For God’s sake, I know nothing more about what happened that night. The harlot screamed. I ran to see what had happened. My niece has told me nothing. Ivetta has lost her bawd and has not returned here. Martin is dead. Business has suffered. What more do you think I can tell you?”

“Hob and Will? Did they quarrel with Martin and did they do so often?”

The innkeeper blinked. “Quarrel? You know the three well enough to answer that yourself. You are all of an age.”

“I have not been here for many months. Things change. Answer me.”

“They haven’t. They fight when they are drunk, and then buy each other ale the next night. Sometimes Will stayed to share Ivetta. That angered Signy more than when Martin had the whore by himself because it meant she must serve refreshments more than once.”

“Were they sharing the whore that night?”

“Martin slipped me extra and ordered more food and wine when they did. I never knew until then. Don’t think it was always planned. That night I knew only that he was with Ivetta, and he died before he could pay me the additional. And he was good about that. He was an honest man about it.”

“How about Ivetta? Did she have any quarrel with the cooper?”

The man laughed. “He never beat her. She ate well enough and drank more. Her clothes were no worse than any harlot might expect. Many wives would be happy with a man like Martin, let alone a woman of her trade. And, unlike a spouse, Ivetta didn’t have to make his clothes or cook his meals. Why would she want to kill him?”

“I’ll be back,” Ralf said. He shook his head in frustration as he walked away.

The innkeeper shouted after him: “When you do, bring some of the king’s coin. Leaving that corpse upstairs cost me two day’s business!”