accompanied the sub-infirmarian upstairs with the innkeeper and Ralf. With one hand on the door, she suddenly realized what might be seen in the room behind it and shuddered. Death might mean that a soul had taken flight from earthly ills, but slaughter never brought any spirit delicate wings.
“Stay back by the stairs,” she commanded the two beardless novices beside her.
Except for those cursed with sensitive noses, few noticed the common odors of everyday life, but murder exuded a fetid stench. Even Sister Anne, used to the overly sweet stink of mortal decay, hesitated at the door to the room where Martin’s body lay rotting in the heat.
Both Eleanor and Anne covered mouth and nose with their sleeves before stepping into the room. The innkeeper was willing enough to stay without. Once Ralf had joined them, Eleanor shut the door, deciding that she and Anne were sufficient attendance on the other. “No one else need suffer this,” she said.
Anne stepped over dried excrement and around stains where urine had darkly colored the wooden floor. When she reached Martin’s corpse, her expression grew thoughtful, then sad. She knelt by the body and began her examination, raising the eyelids, opening the mouth, peering in, sniffing, testing limbs for rigidity, and feeling flesh for marks or other signs.
At last she rose, looked about, and walked around the room. After examining excrement and vomit, she went to the table where a jug lay on its side next to an upside-down pottery cup. She bent and looked into the jug but quickly saw it was empty. She sniffed at it, then finally studied the stains left by what had been spilled. Anne frowned and ran her fingers over the dark marks.
“This was most certainly not a natural death, Ralf, a finding you did not need me to make. Clearly Martin suffered convulsions before he died. His pupils are dilated, and his mouth is blue.” She pointed to vomit, smears of excrement, and the table. “You were right to leave everything in place and let me see all this. One thing by itself might mean many things. It is the entirety that points most accurately to a conclusion.”
“A poison?” Ralf asked.
“So I would say.”
“Which one?”
“I suspect yew, but I would like to ask for more detail from any witnesses before I settle on that one in particular. Precision in this could speed discovery of the killer.”
“The only witness was Ivetta, a woman…”
“…who practices a most sinful trade,” Anne finished.
“If you will tell me your questions, I will ask her myself.”
“Surely you questioned her last night,” Anne said. “What did she tell you?”
The crowner’s face turned scarlet.
The prioress raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“She refused to talk to me, Annie.”
“That has never stopped you before, Ralf.” Anne bent to closely study a rough spot on the table.
“Your offer to protect our virtue is both admirable and kind,” Eleanor said.
Realizing that she was letting him save face, the crowner nodded with a sheepish look.
“As you have said yourself, justice must be served with efficiency,” the prioress continued. “I believe it would be best if Sister Anne asked her the questions directly. If Ivetta’s testimony raises other questions, then our sub-infirmarian can resolve discrepancies immediately. Otherwise, there might be much going back and forth which consumes valuable time.”
“Could you bear to do this?” Ralf asked, looking over at Anne who had returned to communing only with the dead man.
Anne smiled at his question, then nodded at the corpse. “Methinks you should know my answer.”
“Remember that the sainted Magdalene is one of our especial protectors,” Eleanor said. “I am sure she would be pleased if we exposed this poor sinner to the joys of a more prayerful life. I will ask Brother Beorn to accompany Ivetta to the priory. Sister Anne can question her in my presence.”
“I will await your news, my lady,” Ralf
“Stay back by the stairs,” she commanded the two beardless novices beside her.
Except for those cursed with sensitive noses, few noticed the common odors of everyday life, but murder exuded a fetid stench. Even Sister Anne, used to the overly sweet stink of mortal decay, hesitated at the door to the room where Martin’s body lay rotting in the heat.
Both Eleanor and Anne covered mouth and nose with their sleeves before stepping into the room. The innkeeper was willing enough to stay without. Once Ralf had joined them, Eleanor shut the door, deciding that she and Anne were sufficient attendance on the other. “No one else need suffer this,” she said.
Anne stepped over dried excrement and around stains where urine had darkly colored the wooden floor. When she reached Martin’s corpse, her expression grew thoughtful, then sad. She knelt by the body and began her examination, raising the eyelids, opening the mouth, peering in, sniffing, testing limbs for rigidity, and feeling flesh for marks or other signs.
At last she rose, looked about, and walked around the room. After examining excrement and vomit, she went to the table where a jug lay on its side next to an upside-down pottery cup. She bent and looked into the jug but quickly saw it was empty. She sniffed at it, then finally studied the stains left by what had been spilled. Anne frowned and ran her fingers over the dark marks.
“This was most certainly not a natural death, Ralf, a finding you did not need me to make. Clearly Martin suffered convulsions before he died. His pupils are dilated, and his mouth is blue.” She pointed to vomit, smears of excrement, and the table. “You were right to leave everything in place and let me see all this. One thing by itself might mean many things. It is the entirety that points most accurately to a conclusion.”
“A poison?” Ralf asked.
“So I would say.”
“Which one?”
“I suspect yew, but I would like to ask for more detail from any witnesses before I settle on that one in particular. Precision in this could speed discovery of the killer.”
“The only witness was Ivetta, a woman…”
“…who practices a most sinful trade,” Anne finished.
“If you will tell me your questions, I will ask her myself.”
“Surely you questioned her last night,” Anne said. “What did she tell you?”
The crowner’s face turned scarlet.
The prioress raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“She refused to talk to me, Annie.”
“That has never stopped you before, Ralf.” Anne bent to closely study a rough spot on the table.
“Your offer to protect our virtue is both admirable and kind,” Eleanor said.
Realizing that she was letting him save face, the crowner nodded with a sheepish look.
“As you have said yourself, justice must be served with efficiency,” the prioress continued. “I believe it would be best if Sister Anne asked her the questions directly. If Ivetta’s testimony raises other questions, then our sub-infirmarian can resolve discrepancies immediately. Otherwise, there might be much going back and forth which consumes valuable time.”
“Could you bear to do this?” Ralf asked, looking over at Anne who had returned to communing only with the dead man.
Anne smiled at his question, then nodded at the corpse. “Methinks you should know my answer.”
“Remember that the sainted Magdalene is one of our especial protectors,” Eleanor said. “I am sure she would be pleased if we exposed this poor sinner to the joys of a more prayerful life. I will ask Brother Beorn to accompany Ivetta to the priory. Sister Anne can question her in my presence.”
“I will await your news, my lady,” Ralf
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