somewhere, and first thing in the morning, when Nocturns began, he could slip on his vestments and appear just as normal, as if he had only just been allowed in.
That was what made his affair with the girl such a thrill, Denise deduced sourly. No doubt the fool found that the risk of discovery added to his pleasure; continuing his affair beneath the prioress’s very nose appealed to his twisted sense of humour. And the novice was no better.
Satisfied with her logic, Denise went to the connecting door, and turned the key in the lock.
Chapter Twenty-Three
In her small chamber, Constance slept fitfully. She was absolutely exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t switch off and she kept returning to thoughts of Elias. If Simon and Hugh hadn’t been snoring in her infirmary, she would have stolen downstairs, as she had done so often before, and walked to the grille to gaze out at the canons’ area, hoping for a glimpse of him.
Elias was in every way the sort of man she would have married, had she been able to wed, and not only because of his physical attractions. It was more because of his kindness, his gentle manners, his generosity of spirit – and the way he could make her laugh even when she was feeling low.
Knowing that she had let him down was awful. She could see with her mind’s eye how his face would have fallen when the prioress spoke to him, how his soul would have been filled with misery on hearing that he could never see Constance again. There was no need for a great leap of her imagination, for it was how she herself felt about never seeing him again, and she had to cover her face with her pillow to smother the sound of her sobs.
That was why, although she was awake, she didn’t hear the quiet steps going down the stairs outside.
Agnes crept past the door to the prioress’s room. Fortunately, Princess remained silent. Holding her breath, Agnes tiptoed down the rest of the stairs to the cloister, then hurried along to the frater. Denise was sitting in her favourite place, drinking from a large pot. Her eyes were dulled and bloodshot, and when she saw Agnes, she gave a leery smile. Dropping her elbows to the table-top, threatening her pot and jug with being overturned, she sniggered. “Looking for him, dear?”
Agnes ignored her and walked on past to the buttery. As far as Agnes was concerned, there was little point in talking to Denise when she’d been enjoying a late-night vigil with a jug of wine. Besides, Agnes didn’t want to give her a chance to talk about having seen her earlier – in flagrante.
Denise watched the novice’s shadow as it followed Agnes around the wall – a fierce black symbol of evil. It reminded her of the last time she had seen a nun’s shadow, and suddenly Denise was very thirsty indeed.
Agnes passed through the screens passage to the yard beyond. The shed was silent: no animals. A candle or something had been lit inside. The door was ajar, and a soft glow lit the ground in front.
Agnes grinned. Luke knew she liked romance sometimes, and he obviously wanted to make their evening good. Her mouth widening with anticipation, Agnes shoved at the door and walked in, but as she crossed the threshold her foot caught in something, and she fell headlong. Lying there, she rolled her eyes in amusement at her ridiculous entry, and clambered to all fours. Then, before she could straighten or get to her feet, she felt someone thump her back.
“Ouch! What was that for?” she said crossly. There was a curious dragging sensation on her back, and she wriggled her shoulder-blades to ease it, and only then did she feel the quick, flame-hot pain. She opened her mouth to gasp, but before she could, the figure approached again, habit flapping like the wings of a devil, the shadow thrown on to the wall behind like that of a great predatory monster. Agnes was about to scream as the fist caught her chin. She fell, agony exploding as the dagger, lodged in her back, hit the hard, unyielding ground. She felt something burst within her as the blade was driven deeper, up to the cross-guard. She rolled over, choking, and saw bright, thick liquid fall from her mouth. In the gloomy light it looked black, as black as the shadow on the wall, as black as the sins she had committed, as black as hell itself.
When the dagger was tugged from her back, Agnes was almost past caring. All she knew was that she had to confess her sins and obtain Absolution. She looked up with mute appeal in her eyes, but before she could open her mouth to beg, the blade flashed down again to her breast, and this time it found its mark. Agnes felt her heart stop within her, and in the moments left to her, she saw her killer make the sign of the cross and leave.
It was the barking rather than the scream that woke Simon from his heavy sleep. He yawned and blinked, stretching. In front of him he saw Constance appear in the doorway to her chamber, her eyes wide with fear. “What is it?” he asked. “Damn that bloody dog, does it always yap like this in the middle of the night?”
“That scream, didn’t you hear it?”
“Scream? What, from here?” Simon demanded, staring down immediately at his friend. To his relief Baldwin appeared oblivious to the noise.
“No, outside,” Constance said. Her hand was on her breast, and she almost appeared to be panting. “It sounded like the devil himself – oh, God save us!”
“I’m sure He will,” Simon said soothingly, although he was unpleasantly aware of his own superstitious dislike of the dark. “Where did it come from?”
Before Constance could answer, he heard a door open and the prioress appeared in the doorway. “The noise came from outside the cloister, Bailiff – from this side of the church.” Her face was very pale and she suddenly looked ancient.
Simon nodded, pulled his swordbelt around his belly and tied the thongs together. “Hugh, you stay here to protect Baldwin and the others. I’ll go and check.”
“I shall join you,” the prioress said.
“I think you should…” Simon began uncertainly.
“Do not waste your breath, young man,” she snapped.
Simon saw argument was useless. Slapping his open palm against his sword-hilt, he nodded, then hurried past the prioress and out, down the stairs to the cloister.
“Through the frater,” Lady Elizabeth called from behind him.
At the doorway Simon peered in. The hall was empty. Lady Elizabeth pointed the way once more, and Simon went to the screens, where he saw the door.
The blood was tingling in his veins now, pounding at his temples. He gripped his sword-hilt and pulled the metal free of its scabbard; the weapon gleamed wickedly where the sharpened edge caught the candlelight. Taking a deep breath Simon darted through.
He came out into a small cobbled yard, smelling of farm animals’ dung. A sow grunted at him from a quiet corner. A door was open to a shed-like structure, and Simon made for it obliquely, avoiding the light that streamed out. He went right up to the wall at the side of the door, and then slowly, with every nerve awake for a sound from within, he pressed his free hand to the wood of the door and pushed, sword held out at belly height, ready to slash or stab.
The sight that met him presented no threat. A horrified expression on his face, the smith Elias was kneeling and cradling Agnes’s head in his lap, while the blood dripped slowly from her slackly open mouth on to his stained robe.
Luke shrank back against the stonework of the wall as Simon and the prioress dashed past, and only when they had gone did he lick his dry lips and try to clear his head. He was near the door to the frater, but he could hear a chattering gaggle of nuns approaching nervously through it, so he couldn’t escape that way. The route to the outer wall of the precinct meant passing by the open doorway where Simon and the prioress no doubt stood staring in horror at Elias and the dead woman. Luke’s only chance of escape lay in making his way outside the cloister along the outer, western range of buildings towards the church. Then he could get to the alley that led along the church’s wall, and thence to the church itself. “Why?” Luke heard the prioress demand. Her voice was high-pitched, as if about to break. “What has this girl ever done to you?”
“Lady Elizabeth, I didn’t hurt her! There was a scream – I came here to make sure she was all right. I didn’t
