Chapter Seven #5
“Yes.” Sister Rebecca’s cheeks colored faintly. “I mean to say, we accepted the little book with thanks but then had a disagreement.”
“What about?” the empress asked.
Sister Rebecca shot her fellow nun a severe look. “I wished to use the book as it was intended, but Sister Joan disagreed. We decided it was a princely loan but felt it was too grand of us to use and so set it aside.”
“Ugh.” The empress looked up at the ceiling. “After all that, you didn’t even use it.” She shook her head.
Sister Rebecca bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Empress.”
“Very well. Mistress Bronwyn? What have you deduced?”
Bronwyn peered at the scrap of paper and said, “I should like to see Lady Susanna’s hands.”
“No need. They were covered with soot. When Mistress Agatha asked what she had been doing, the young woman refused to answer. Mistress Agatha suspects Lady Susanna was trying to use a bit of ash to color her eyelids, to make them more attractive.” Empress Maud rolled her eyes.
“Such wickedness,” Sister Rebecca muttered.
Bronwyn ignored the nun. “Empress, who amongst your ladies have access to quill and ink?”
“Why, all of them, I suppose,” replied the empress. “And they can all read and write, of course. But the paper doesn’t have any words. So anyone could have done that horrid drawing. What do you think?”
Bronwyn gestured to the book. “What page did the paper fall out of?”
Empress Maud stiffened, and her lips pursed as if she’d eaten a lemon. “The Office of the Dead. I thought it odd that something was sticking out of the book, so I flipped to that section and the paper fell out.”
Bronwyn shared a thoughtful look with the empress. “Whoever did this, all of this, is trying to frighten you.”
“Ha. They’re going to have to try harder than that. It takes more than a little drawing to scare me,” the empress said loudly, her voice echoing in the chapel.
“Yes. May I see the page the paper fell out from?”
The empress opened the small book and delicately flipped to the pages, stopping on an ornately illustrated page.
Bronwyn peeked at it and instantly understood what the empress had meant.
The page was colored with gold and bore images of the saints, rich with colorful inks.
It was a bit of art, and she marveled at its generous detail.
She longed to trace her fingers over the page but dared not.
Instead, she took the book and, holding it carefully, peered at the small page and its next folio.
“What are you looking for?” Sister Rebecca asked.
“Soot. Or ink. Any marks.” Bronwyn handed the book back. “Thank you.”
The empress looked at the pages. “There aren’t any marks. What does that mean?”
“That Lady Susanna is innocent,” Bronwyn said. “She didn’t insert the drawing. The scrap of paper is free from stray ink or soot, and so are the pages in the book. So whoever added the page did not have dirty hands.”
“My word. So the woman’s dirty hands are a sign of her innocence,” Sister Rebecca said.
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Unless she inserted the drawing before she started playing with soot so she would be found innocent,” Sister Joan pointed out.
The women looked at her.
“I doubt Lady Susanna is that calculating,” the empress said. “She is much too innocent. Playful and teasing. She does like pranks, but… I do not believe she would do such a thing.”
“I’m just saying, it’s possible. Otherwise, that leaves Mistress Agatha,” Sister Joan added.
Bronwyn paused. “What if someone had already tampered with the book before this morning? Had anyone looked at it last night? When was the last time you read it, Empress?”
Empress Maud looked up, thinking. “I read it last night. But no one asked to look at it. I read it and said my prayers before going to bed. It was fine then.”
“So, either someone must have touched the book whilst you slept, or it happened this morning,” Bronwyn said.
“Well, Lady Alice was the one who slept in my room last night,” the empress explained. “I wouldn’t suspect her, except… She did have ink on her hands this morning. From writing a note, she said.”
Bronwyn tensed. Could her friend be at fault?
“Could she have done it while you were sleeping?” Sister Joan asked.
“Sister, we shouldn’t presume such things. It comes close to spreading false witness,” Sister Rebecca said.
Sister Joan looked away.
Bronwyn said, “I will speak with her.”
The empress looked mollified. “Good.” She clasped the book close to her side and walked away, leaving the guards to follow.
Once they left, Sister Joan asked Bronwyn, “That was smart thinking. Do you really think one of the empress’s ladies-in-waiting could be behind this?”
“It’s possible.”
“But why? Is she so terrible? Does she mistreat her ladies?” Sister Joan asked.
“Sister,” Sister Rebecca admonished.
Sister Joan shot her an apologetic look, then glanced at Bronwyn.
Bronwyn shrugged. “I do not know. I don’t think so. She is a ruler like any man. But for someone to do this at all is a great risk.”
“Would they do this to a king?” Sister Joan asked.
“I don’t know. But I rather doubt it.”
“They wouldn’t. It’s because of her sex. They wish to disturb her mind with these senseless tricks,” Sister Rebecca said. “Not to mention, the death of that poor sheep. I do not care for such beasts, but no creature deserves to be butchered like that.”
Bronwyn pondered this. Of course the nuns would be aware of the sheep. Court gossip would be spreading that tale far and wide.
Bronwyn sniffed the scrap of paper.
“Why are you sniffing it?” Sister Joan asked.
“Because it smells.”
“Can I see?”
Bronwyn handed it over. The young nun sniffed the paper and said, “Why, I’ve smelt that before. It smells familiar. Like food or drink. Almost like…”
Their eyes met. “Best not to say anything yet, until I can be sure.” Bronwyn thanked the sisters and excused herself.
Bronwyn sought out Lady Alice, who was walking in the garden. Bronwyn noticed her hands had tinges of black ink upon them. “Lady Alice?”
Lady Alice turned around. “Bronwyn? What are you doing here? Did they release you from the kitchens?”
Bronwyn shook her head and relayed what had transpired in the church.
Lady Alice stiffened. “You don’t think I had anything to do with that, do you?”
“No, but I have to ask. Why do you have ink on your hands?”
Lady Alice blinked and examined them. Her nails were long and the fingertips were stained black. She muttered, “I thought I’d washed them.”
“What were you doing?”
“Writing. Not that it’s any business of yours.”
“Only writing?” Bronwyn asked.
“Yes.”
“No drawing or sketching?”
“No.”
Bronwyn surveyed her. “To whom were you writing?”
Lady Alice’s look was mutinous. She huffed and tossed her black braid over her shoulder. “Rupert, of course. But I don’t see how it’s any business of yours.”
“Lady Alice…” Bronwyn started. “No one knows where he is.”
“So? I will write to him if I choose. And I will give this to him when I see him next. Bronwyn, I swear, you torment me like a flea. Why are you the empress’s dog? You sniff around and hunt, and no one wants you in their affairs. Least of all me. I thought we were friends, Bronwyn.”
“We are, Lady Alice.” Bronwyn frowned.
“Then why do I feel like a suspect in your eyes? You look at me with such suspicion. What do I have to do to prove that I am innocent? You want to see the notes? I’ll show you. Oh, wait, you can’t read. It really doesn’t matter, then, does it? You wouldn’t be able to tell, anyway.”
Bronwyn felt insulted.
“It is my privilege. It is something you would be lucky to learn.” Lady Alice paused. “I heard Lady Susanna is teaching you French. What are you doing with her? Hoping to better yourself?”
Bronwyn stared at her. She disliked Lady Alice’s tone. It was almost sneering. “Maybe. I thought it might help me to learn the empress’s language.”
“Ha. You may try all you like, Bronwyn, but in the end, you’re just a baker’s girl wearing a better dress. You’ll never be noble.”
Her words cut as cleanly as if with a knife, but deeper. So that was what Lady Alice thought of her. That she was trying to become noble, like her?
“I’m not.”
“Aren’t you? But who am I to say?” Lady Alice glared at her. Her eyes looked black, like pinpricks of anger against a night sky.
“Does Rupert read and write?” Bronwyn asked.
Alice’s cheeks turned pink. “I’m sure he does. He is a squire, training to be a knight. I am sure he has learned. Knights don’t just take anyone to be their squires.”
“How are you going to reach him?”
“By messenger.”
“How? It’s not safe.”
“One of the squires, Tristan, knows the area. He knows a safe way in and out of here without being seen. He’ll be quick and will get my message over to him.”
“And how would he find him? Rupert defected and rejoined Matilda’s armies. And why would Tristan do that for you? What are you giving him in return?”
“Coin, obviously.” Lady Alice pursed her lips. “The man chooses which court he will be loyal to, like I have. That doesn’t mean we can’t still be together. Now, are you done interrogating me? Did I pass your scrutiny?”
“Why are you so angry?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Here I thought we were friends, but then I hear from Lady Susanna that you fancy Rupert.
And then when I thought you had come to see me, you treat me like a common criminal, when you are no more than common yourself.
It is rude. But perhaps I should have expected nothing less from you.
” Lady Alice huffed again and walked away.
That solved the mystery of Lady Alice’s ink-stained hands at least, Bronwyn thought.
Once again, Lady Alice and she were at odds.
But the young, dark-haired noblewoman had a way of hurting her that others didn’t.
It surprised Bronwyn that Lady Alice was writing messages when they were at war, but when she thought about it, not so surprising after all.