bound.
Luke quietly slipped over the wall and across the yard to the western corner of the claustral buildings. From here he could look south to the church; there was no one in sight. All the nuns should by now, this late in the afternoon, be studying around the main claustral garth.
At the church, he checked along the little alley that led to the cloisters before making his way inside through the small door to the nuns’ part of the church. It was surely close to time for Vespers. He walked across the nave, genuflected absentmindedly, and was about to slip through the connecting door, which Denise had left unlocked, when the door behind him opened.
He was convinced that his heart actually stopped beating for a second; certain that it was the prioress. No matter what his carefully laid plans with the bishop might be, if she should find him here, she could have him thrown bodily from the priory, and all opportunities for advancement would be gone. His career would be over, and he would be sent to some ruined abbey or parish in the worst, most rundown part of the realm.
When he saw it was Simon, Luke almost fell to his knees in thanks to God. He turned and made as if to walk to the sacristy.
“Ah, Father Luke, I’m glad to have found you. You’ll be getting ready for the service, I suppose, but could I speak to you later?”
“Oh, Bailiff, I am most sorry. I was deep in thought and didn’t hear you approach. You wish to make your Confession?”
“Um no. Actually I was hoping you could tell me a little about the people here. Just your general impressions of them.”
Luke reflected quickly. If anyone was to enter the church, the bailiff would be giving him the perfect alibi for being in here: a questioning. The prioress would want to know how Luke and Simon had got into the province of the females, but Luke could defend himself against any charges of impropriety easily enough.
“Ask me anything – but don’t expect me to break the secrecy of the Confessional, of course.” Luke led the way to a bench at the wall and took a seat.
“I wouldn’t dream of doing that,” Simon protested. “But I am intrigued about this place and how the women all get on together.”
“It’s much like anywhere else where women congregate, I imagine.”
“No. Not at all. Rarely do you find women jockeying for position in such a flagrant manner, all racing to win the prize – Lady Elizabeth’s position.”
Luke forced a sad smile to his face. “It’s hardly a surprise, is it? Just look at the state of things here: two girls dead, the fabric of the buildings falling apart, the rumours…” he hesitated “… rumours of incontinence among some of the novices, and nuns too. It is said that they occasionally take men to their beds.”
What a hypocrite! Simon recalled Rose’s words about Luke but held his tongue: he didn’t want to lose the young vicar’s assistance yet. “And who would you think could be involved in such goings-on?”
“There are many rumours, Bailiff. One shouldn’t make too much of them. I believe there have even been malicious stories spread about me!”
“What sort of stories?”
“Untruthful stories, Bailiff. The sort of things that girls, nuns, and even some of the old women in the canonical cloister would discuss. You can’t trust such gossip, it is all too prevalent. I’ve heard tales of almost all the men, and according to the stories, they are constantly making love with every nun in the cloister. There is one thing common to all the men and women in this place: frustration. The men know the women are here, and vice versa. It is bound to create tension, isn’t it? And when there is little else for people to talk about, it is easy to see how they turn to imagining things.”
“So you think that there hasn’t been any sort of misbehaviour between the sexes?”
“If there has, I am sure that Lady Elizabeth will resign.”
“Are you?”
“Bailiff, she would have to. She is already condemned for the amount of damage done to this place – look at the roof above you! – but if any of her women were actually fornicating, that would really be the end of her.”
Simon considered. This was more complicated than he had anticipated. Every person he spoke to hinted at misdemeanours, but none was prepared to give full voice to their suspicions. “Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to murder Moll and Katerine?”
“The very idea is ridiculous. No, in short. The pair of them were lovely things, delightful. Moll was so endearing, especially with her constant search for the holy in everything. She would ask a question, and fix those lovely eyes upon you, and you felt nearer to God by her presence. And Katerine was different, but no less wonderful. She was always trying to improve things. Often she would come to me to suggest something that others hadn’t noticed. She was a sweet girl.”
Simon was unimpressed. He noted that all Luke had said so far corroborated Rose’s suggestion that he could be enjoying an affair with a nun. Out of sheer malice, Simon then asked, “And what do you think about Agnes?”
“Agnes?” Luke’s voice took on a haughty distance. “She seems to be a very serious-minded and sensible young novice. Of course, I could hardly claim to have spoken to her often, but she confesses to me regularly, and appears penitent.”
He was clearly not going to elucidate. Simon could almost hear the lock snapping shut when Luke closed his mouth. Instead the bailiff attempted a different tack. “And what of the treasurer? She strikes me as very dedicated.”
“Dedicated?” Luke repeated with a frown. “Yes, certainly that. Although she has her own troubles, I fear. Largely the result of her background.”
Simon listened carefully while the priest told him of Margherita’s birth and the disappearance of her mother. It struck him how similar Margherita’s story was to that of Rose. “I wonder if she knows,” he muttered aloud, and when Luke glanced at him, he waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. Thinking out loud. But tell me, do you think Margherita could help save the convent? It seems to me that everywhere I look the place is falling apart.”
“Which I suppose reflects badly upon the prioress,” Luke said off-handedly. “I mean, Margherita could hardly do a worse job, could she?”
“Do you think Margherita could have prevented the murders?”
Luke looked at him coldly. “Bailiff, if those two poor girls really were murdered, surely it must be due to the innate sins of the convent.” Luke was rather proud of his words. His pronouncement sounded stern and pious, just as a cleric’s statement should. “If Margherita was in charge, I am sure many of the sins would not have occurred, which would mean that the murders would not have happened.”
There was the ringing of the bell calling the obedientiaries to the next service, and Luke stood abruptly. “I’ve got to prepare for Vespers – and you will have to return to the canonical side of the church Bailiff.”
“Thank you for your help. I am most grateful. And now I am going to visit my friend,” Simon said, and set off towards the door. However it opened before he arrived and the prioress walked in. She smiled at him politely, but then she noticed the priest. Simon saw that in her hand, Lady Elizabeth held a large key.
While he waited near the exit, she walked to the door separating the two halves of the church and tested it. When it wouldn’t open, she stared at Luke, but the priest ignored her, and merely went to the sacristy to prepare for the service.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bertrand walked slowly to the church, anxiety clutching at his breast. All his plans had gone awry: he had intended Margherita to replace Lady Elizabeth and now Margherita herself appeared no better. For once he was prepared to accept his own limitations. Today he felt in desperate need of assistance from God.
There was no doubt: he had been over the figures time and again.
Only the one hand had written in the book – Margherita’s – but the figures she had entered for the bailiff
