The Sempster's Tale (31 page)

Anne tried, “It could have happened,” and heard her own lack of certainty even as she said it. She tried again, more strongly. “Master Bocking could have been waiting for him, could have been lying in wait.”

‘And the thought my uncle stabbed him in the back doesn’t bother you?“

‘He meant to do worse to you,“ she said fiercely.

‘I swear my uncle will have sailed by now.“

‘The attack on Brother Michael yesterday,“ she said, trying again. ”That was surely Lollards meaning to be rid of him, and some of them could have been waiting for whenever he would come out again.“

Daved laughed aloud. “Anne!” he protested.

Stubbornly, she insisted, “They could have been. Or even just one.” Because that would be by far the best of answers.

Daved granted, still near laughter. “It could have been Lollards, yes.” Then the laughter was gone and there was steel behind his words as he went on, “But against that I have to ask who came to the door here? Who did he go away with? Because almost surely that’s who killed him.”

He was right, and only slowly Anne said, “It could have been me.”

‘It could have been,“ Daved agreed. ”I know if I had been the friar, / would have let you lure me from the room. Even gone out the gate with you and maybe put my back to you.“ He drew her to him. ”Though it’s not my back to you I want.“ He took his time over another kiss that left her wanting to cling to him with her body as well as her lips; but he set her back from him and said, ”But would Brother Michael?“

Anne looked up at him, silent for a moment. In that while they had clung together, she had felt in him more than only his passion for her. He was taut with the pleasure of the fight he was in, and she was left as shaken at understanding that as by his kiss; but she gathered her wits, lifted her chin, and answered his question, “He might have done, yes.”

‘It is somewhat more likely than lurking Lollards,“ Daved granted. ”So. Was it you who did for him?“

Anne knew he was jesting and—determined to show as brave as he was, however much she wasn’t—she jested back at him, “If I did, I’d not admit it.”

Daved laughed, and she was happy to have made him, but in her fearful need to have him safe she went on, fighting and failing to keep her voice steady, “It doesn’t matter who was at the door. What matters is for you to be away.”

‘What matters, among other things, is that I don’t leave you here where there’s a murderer.“ He laid gentle hands on her shoulders. ”Nor leave you with no certainty in your mind that I am not. After all, you and no one else knows that you found me with the ropes already cut when you came in here. Nor can you know how long I had been unbound. It might have been long enough to kill that friar and dump his body in the street.“

‘If you’d done that, why not just go on? Why move his body at all? Why not kill him here and escape and be done with it?“

‘I’ll do what I can to think of reasons, if you like,“ Daved offered. ”It won’t be easy. In the meanwhile, I want to see the friar’s body.“

‘Daved!“ she exclaimed, but he had already started away from her, and without any quick reason that would stop him, she followed him. In the hall two maidservants were setting out bread and cheese for breakfast on a trestle table. They looked a little confused at seeing him and one of them even a little frightened, which meant something was being said through the household over what had happened yesterday, but when Daved paused to ask them, ”Do you know where they’ve put the dead friar?“, one of the women answered readily enough, ”In the cellar, master.“

As Daved went on, the other said, protesting, “Master Grene said you were staying in the solar.”

Daved threw her a smile over his shoulder, said cheerily, “But as you see, I’m not,” and was out of the hall.

Avoiding their eyes and any question they might have asked her, Anne kept after him. There were two sets of stairs at the rear end of the screens passage. One led down to the kitchen and the rearyard, the other to the cellar under the hall. Because goods of his own were sometimes stored in the cellar, Daved did not need to ask the way, or even to pause at the heavy door since it stood open to the wide, deeply shadowed cellar stairs. Daved took them without hesitation, but Anne had never been this way and went more slowly, holding to the rope strung along the wall for railing, until she turned the stairs’ corner and found herself nearly at their bottom, with enough candlelight ahead of her to show her way better despite the sweep of Daved’s shadow back at her, large among the close-set stone pillars holding up the beams of the hall floor too near above her head. Crowded farther off in the shadows were thicker darknesses that would be the stacked bales of cloth and chests of other goods stored here for safety, but the candlelight was straight ahead, spread out from several fat tallow candles set on prickets thrust out from stone pillars, lighting a square between four of the pillars where Brother Michael’s body must be.

Father Tomas’ shadow met Daved’s as the priest hurried toward Daved from the candlelight. Anne saw him take hold of Daved’s arm as they met just beyond the stairfoot but missed whatever Father Tomas first said and what Daved answered him, only reaching the bottom of the stairs in time to hear the priest say, his voice low and shaking, “No. Now. Get away while you can. You have to flee
now.
Brother Michael is not the only one who saw too much. All one of Grene’s men has to do is talk of your tallit, not even knowing what it is, with the wrong ears to hear it…”

‘It will be as God wills,“ Daved said steadily.

‘If you’re taken, you’ll be tortured. The Church can do it. They’ll have everything from you.“ Father Tomas’ fear was painful to see and all too nakedly as much for himself as Daved. ”Everything. And then…“

‘What of you?“ Daved asked. ”More people heard what you told Brother Michael about yourself than ever heard his accusation of me.“

Father Tomas stopped short, staring, before he said, his voice still low but suddenly steady, “I’m a Christian priest. I will not be otherwise. Here is where I belong.”

‘And here is where / must presently be,“ said Daved and went on.

Anne followed him past Father Tomas, briefly touching the priest’s arm in sympathy but felt him trembling and moved the more quickly after Daved, afraid Father Tomas’ fear would only make her own fear stronger.

A piece of rough canvas had been laid on the stone floor for Brother Michael’s body, but he was laid out on it as if on a proper bier, his robe straight around him, his wooden cross on his chest with his hands resting on it. His mouth was closed now, as well as his eyes. Closed once and for all but not soon enough, Anne thought viciously. And was appalled at herself an instant later and crossed herself but was forestalled from any prayer by surprise at seeing Dame Frevisse there, standing beyond the corpse, nearly invisible against the darkness behind her until she lifted her head and her white wimple and pale face showed in the candlelight.

Her long-faced Master Naylor was there, too, a few paces aside and looking no happier than he had in the solar. Anne was uncertain how much danger to Daved he might be, but she trusted him less than she did the nun. And did not trust her very much.

Now fully into the candlelight, Daved stopped, and over the corpse he and Dame Frevisse regarded each other a moment, before she said, “Have you come to pray for his soul?”

‘My faith does not require me to love my enemies,“ Daved answered. ”I’m willing to leave to God where his soul should go.“

‘This man’s soul went before its time.“

‘Can someone die before God wills it?“

‘Does God will murder?“

Daved spread out his hands, palms upward. “Who understands the will of God?”

The smallest of possible smiles touched the corners of Dame Frevisse’s mouth. “A point well made. Though I believe the Commandment says ‘You shall not slay wrongfully.’ It would seem that makes clear enough God’s will in the matter.”

‘Therefore, let us hope he also wills that we learn soon who this particular murderer is.“

Dame Frevisse went suddenly still, looking at Daved as if he and she had become the only people there, until finally she said, quite quietly, “Is that something you truly want?”

‘Why shouldn’t I?“ Daved returned.

‘Why should you? He would have brought about your death. Instead, he’s dead. That could easily be enough for you. What does it matter to you who killed him?“

‘He would have brought about my death, yes.“ Black, unexpected laughter glinted in Daved’s voice. ”Wrongfully, to my way of seeing it. Instead, he’s dead, but also wrongfully. Therefore, if I thought ill of myself being wrongfully killed, must I not, by the bonds of logic and despite whatever else I thought or felt toward him, also think ill of his death, it being likewise wrongful?“

‘By the bonds of logic, yes,“ Dame Frevisse granted.

‘There, then. All your questions are answered.“

The wry set of the nun’s mouth suggested they were not, even before she said, “Let us say
some
of my questions are answered. But to go back to where we began, if you’ve not come to pray for his soul, why are you here?”

‘To find out his murderer,“ Daved said. ”Lest I live under the suspicion of his death hereafter.“

Anne, from where she stood slightly behind him, saw Dame Frevisse’s gaze slide sideways to her in a brief, assessing look that made Anne want to grab Daved by the arm and tell him this wasn’t something he had to do for her, that she would rather he hazard escape than chance staying here to prove something of which she was already sure.

Only the certainty that her words would make no difference held her silent, as with again that flickering of black laughter Daved went on, “At least the corpse is not bleeding in my presence. That’s to the good, isn’t it?”

‘Only if you believe dead bodies are so obliging as to bleed anew in the presence of their murderer,“ Dame Frevisse returned.

‘You don’t?“

‘I’ve never seen it happen.“

‘You’ve had much to do with murdered bodies?“

‘Yes.“

The flatness of her answer stopped Daved. Then he asked seriously, “Have you?”

‘Yes,“ she said again; and then, matching his challenge, ’Have you?”

Quietly Daved said, “Yes.”

The nun seemed unsurprised by that. “Then what do you make of this?” she said and knelt down. Daved went to kneel beside her. Unlike Father Tomas who had come silently to kneel at Brother Michael’s
feet
with his head bent in prayer, there was no sign of prayer in Daved and Dame Frevisse’s kneeling. Instead, Dame Frevisse took Brother Michael’s head between her hands and lifted it, saying, “Feel the back of it.”

Anne, able neither to pray nor look away, watched Daved do so, his face set. When he withdrew his hand, Dame Frevisse gently lowered the head to the cloth and asked, “Well?”

‘He was struck there,“ Daved said slowly. ”He was clubbed from behind.“ And even more slowly, ”As Hal was.“

‘Yes,“ Dame Frevisse said. ”Struck down and afterward stabbed to death. Like the boy.“

And Anne was suddenly aware of how much this was how it had been in St. Swithin’s crypt—the crowding darkness, the body laid out…

‘Then maybe, as we think with Hal,“ said Daved, ”he was struck down somewhere else and carried outside the gate and then stabbed. But the gate was guarded.“

‘Which could mean either Raulyn or Pers had been part in it,“ Dame Frevisse said.

Anne put in hurriedly, “Raulyn was twice away from the gate. Once of necessity, once to rouse Pers back to his post. Pers could have been away, too. For necessity. Like Raulyn.”

‘How was that?“ Daved asked.

Dame Frevisse made explanation, ending, “But it’s trusting heavily to happenstance for the murderer to have happened on any such time to reach the gate.”