Chapter Sixteen #3
“But not everyone here knew that there were such prisoners here.”
“So that narrows down your list of suspects. Who knew?” Sister Rebecca asked.
Bronwyn ticked off her fingers. “The ladies-in-waiting, the queen, Sir William of Ypres, the guards, some of the cooks, and the two doctors in the infirmary… Any number of people.”
“You’re forgetting someone.”
“Who?”
“Sister Joan’s ghost. I think they followed us here. Why else would they try to kill Sir Robert and those four people?”
Bronwyn had a funny suspicion that the nun was right.
“There is something you should know,” the nun began.
“I did not believe Sister Joan, and I hold no belief in her theories, but… Before we were found by you and the cook, back at the castle, she thought she heard someone talking to the brewer, laying out a plan. She didn’t tell me who it was.
And I didn’t believe her, but my hearing is not so good as hers.
And I don’t have her imagination. I thought she was creating silly stories. ”
Bronwyn opened her mouth to speak, but the nun held up a hand.
“This person, whoever they were, she saw them. She had taken to exploring the castle at night and was in the laundry when a person came in, stripped down, and threw their clothes in the laundry. But she didn’t see his face.
She hid because she felt it would be indecent to see a naked man.
But she knew his clothes were covered in blood; otherwise, why would he be doing that at such a late hour? ”
“How would she know they were bloody?”
“Sister Joan came to our nunnery from a simple family. She’s used to butchering animals.”
Bronwyn gasped. “You mean she saw the person who killed the sheep.”
“But she didn’t say who it was. She only had her suspicions.
I thought perhaps it was the brewer, or another squire, or maybe a cook.
And then when she started talking about ghosts, I couldn’t stand to hear of it.
Such notions are not appropriate for the women of our order.
But now it’s too late.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I never let her speak.
I wish I could have been more helpful. But I thought you should know. ”
Bronwyn had just exited the privy when a page found her.
She was summoned to the queen’s chamber.
She followed the page up the steps to the queen’s solar, where the queen, now dressed properly to receive visitors, stood by with Sir William.
Her pretty face was drawn, her eyebrows furrowed.
There was no polite wait for ceremony here.
“Bronwyn, you should know. I want whoever is behind these attacks on Sir Robert and the sister to be found, and within the week.”
Bronwyn’s eyes widened.
“I had sent letters on to Gloucester, but Maud is proving… difficult.”
Bronwyn frowned. “What did the letters say?”
“You are impertinent, girl,” Sir William of Ypres growled and then said more gently, “That is none of your concern.”
Queen Matilda held up a hand. “Peace, Sir William. Bronwyn, we are looking to make an exchange, of Sir Robert for my husband. It is the usual thing in situations like this. Maud agreed to take Sir Robert back in exchange for twelve earls and a large amount of gold, but that is an insult. She has ignored our other entreaties since then. I have sent more than one messenger since we took up residence here, so I assume she is simply not interested.”
“And if she continues to ignore them?” Bronwyn asked.
The queen smiled. “I have a plan for just that occurrence.”
Bronwyn met her eyes and repressed a shiver. The queen’s smile was all-knowing and self-satisfied, as if she knew something Bronwyn didn’t, but also something that would surely rile the empress. Bronwyn wondered what it was.
“I expect to have my answer in a week. You have until then to catch this person. Understand?” the queen asked.
“Yes, Your Grace.” She curtsied and left.
Bronwyn was met outside the room by Sir William. “Mistress Bronwyn,” he started, a hand resting comfortably on his belt. “What have you found so far?” he asked.
She weighed whether to trust him and decided she had nothing to lose.
“I have a ghost of a dead squire, and his body is missing, It’s possible that he was moved or already buried, but people have seen him since his untimely death.
It doesn’t make sense. He might be alive, or he might not be.
The situations lead me to believe that the culprit is one of Maud’s people who are imprisoned here, but they’re all either dead or in the cells.
So maybe… This man is alive. I don’t believe in ghosts. ”
“Quite right.” He walked with her down the corridor. “I know what I would do. Lay a trap. No doubt the person has killed the nun and tried to kill some of the other people from Maud’s camp, so he’ll likely either try to kill them again, or aim for Sir Robert.”
She stroked her chin. “There’s no way we’ll be able to know which he’ll try for.”
“Just as well you have me to help,” he said with a smile.
That evening, Bronwyn hid in the infirmary.
She’d taken a pallet nearby Sir Robert’s and lain there, quiet as a mouse, with a scratchy, woolen blanket drawn up to her nose.
A flea bit her knee, and she resisted the urge to scratch it irritably, in case someone was watching.
She thought to herself, Who could have possibly wanted to hurt Sir Robert, or the others?
Her list of suspects was so small, it was practically non-existent.
Tristan was her most likely suspect, what with the brewer being in jail, but she’d seen his dead body itself, while it had still been warm.
He’d just been attacked, she’d seen the blood.
But… what if it hadn’t been a killing blow?
What if it had just been meant to look like he’d gotten hurt, and he’d been faking his own death?
But why? He was loyal to the empress, she had no doubt about that.
So why would he be behind all these tricks to hurt his own mistress?
And now that Sir Robert was due to be ransomed or traded off in exchange for King Stephen.
Even though Maud was refusing to do this, perhaps she could be convinced.
So either someone must have wanted Sir Robert dead to prevent King Stephen from regaining his position and armies, or they wanted him dead to destabilize the empress’s regime.
Either motive spoke of trouble. But then, the person who’d been behind these attacks might not have known that Maud was refusing to participate in the prisoner exchange.
If they didn’t, they still had a motive for wanting Sir Robert dead, which ruled out Sir William of Ypres.
Not that she suspected him, anyway, but it was good to have someone to trust.
She wondered, had she been too quick to trust in the two physicians?
Father Reynolds had seemed knowledgeable about the poisons in the cupboard, but the younger man, John, had also aroused her suspicion.
Could he be trusted? John would have had easy access to their supply of medicines and could have stolen the monkshood himself, then blamed it on someone else.
Or what if he and Tristan were working together?
Perhaps Tristan had paid the younger man a bribe, or promised him wealth or fortune.
And with his place being at the infirmary, John would have had easy access to the monkshood and no one would think anything amiss. Time would tell.
Bronwyn lay quietly, her body mostly covered by the thin blanket.
She only hoped that whoever was behind this would show their face soon.
But then she yawned and realized that the room was warm and comfortable.
She had the luxury of sleeping on a raised pallet with a blanket, and for once, she was cozy.
The hard boards of the wooden pallet were hard and stiff against her back, but it beat sleeping on the floor and worrying about mice or rats.
She pinched her arm. She needed to stay awake. She needed to be ready in case this person came by again and tried to kill Sir Robert. She needed to… Her thoughts faded into sleep.
A noise.
A rustle. A shift of movement.
There were steps nearby. Someone had entered the infirmary and was moving closer.
She kept her eyes closed but suddenly was wide awake. Who was there? She waited and listened. She didn’t move a muscle. Whoever it was was the culprit, perhaps.
The person came closer, despite the subtle snores and coughs of the people lying there. She waited as the steps grew louder. They had a heavy tread, unmistakably a man’s. She wished she had a weapon or something. Anything.
She waited one minute, and two, then shot up out of her bed.
“Aah. Bronwyn, what are you doing here?”
“I might ask the same thing of you, Tristan.” She stood. “I thought it was you. I couldn’t believe there was really Sister Joan was seeing a ghost.”
He snorted. “Is that what that nun was saying? I thought she’d lost her mind. But then that brewer started spouting nonsense about ghosts, too. Scared the wits out of him. Made it a damn sight easier to move about, too. Shame it didn’t fool you, though.”
He stood over near Sir Robert’s bedside. She threw off the light blanket and got out of the bed.
“She interrupted you that night, didn’t she? You were planning to kill him.”
“You’re not as dumb as you look.”
She came closer. “But why? He was hurt in battle and is only just recovering from a fever. He still might die.”
“I couldn’t wait that long. He’ll be exchanged for Stephen any day now.”
“You’re wrong. Maud is preventing the exchange.”
His face contorted in anger, then stilled into a hard mask. “Doesn’t matter. The plan will still go ahead.”
Aha, Bronwyn thought. So he didn’t know about the obstacle to the prisoner exchange. But then, whose side was he really on? “I don’t understand.”