Forsaken Soul by Priscilla Royal

even humiliating, was ignored or kept hidden out of shame or pride?”
    Signy lifted the cup to her lips but failed to hide a rising color in her cheeks.
    “God knows everything about us. Only His judgement matters, not the flawed opinions of mortals, including prioresses.”
    “Ask what you will. I shall be honest in my answers.”
    “Please tell me what you remember about the night Martin died.”
    Despite the prioress’ encouragement, Signy had very little to tell. Ivetta had given more detail.
    “Where did you get the food and drink? Did you deliver them directly to Martin’s room?” Eleanor asked at the end of the brief tale.
    “The food was from the common pot, my lady. A stew of meat with wine, ginger, and onions. I poured the ale myself. Both I took directly up the…” Signy stopped, her lips now moving silently as if they insisted on finishing the sentence. “Nay, I did not do so!” she continued. “I stopped to speak with my uncle for a moment and put the platter and jug down on a nearby table.”
    “Do you remember if anyone was sitting there?”
    “Three men had just left.” She thought for a moment. “The table was empty. Had it been occupied, I might not have taken my eyes off such tempting fare, lest a man take a spoonful of something he had not paid for.”
    “Who was nearby?”
    “I do not recall, but anyone leaving or coming into the inn would have passed by. I was standing near the door…”
    “Would your uncle remember?”
    “I confess the subject of our conversation was a heated one, and he might not have noticed anything. I faced the door, not he, yet surely I would have become aware if some suspicious person had approached the platter. As for my uncle, I cannot truly speak for him.”
    “Perhaps Crowner Ralf can ask him.”
    “He must, I am sure.”
    Eleanor deliberately took her time to sip some ale, waiting to see if Signy would continue. “What was the quarrel you had with your uncle?” she asked.
    “Did I say
quarrel
, my lady?”
    The prioress simply raised her eyebrows, sufficient reminder of the promise to speak with honesty.
    Albeit with evident reluctance, the innkeeper’s niece nodded her concession. “It was about his willingness to rent a room to men who want a woman for the night. I did not like the practice.”
    “I commend you in that.”
    “My lady, forgive my sin in this matter, but I claim no virtue in my objection. Were I a man, I might permit the custom as well, for the little whoring does bring some extra coin. However, my uncle has no living kin and has promised the inn to me when he dies. No woman may allow whoring in her business if she does not wish to be called
bawd
herself
.
”
    “Thank you for your honesty,” Eleanor said. “I can also understand how this dispute might have kept you both from seeing much that went on nearby, but I beg of you to please think back and try to recall any faces, or voices, of those who might have been close to hand. Did you see someone who hesitated, even for a brief moment, by the food and drink? An odd gesture perhaps? One caught out of the corner of your eye but quickly forgotten because of the nature of your discussion?”
    Signy frowned. “There were many villagers there that night with much coming and going. The way to the inn door sometimes filled with customers, and a few may have bent close to the food and drink in an effort to squeeze by others. That said, I still do not recall anything unusual.” Her lips curled into a thin smile. “Our crowner was there himself and might have seen something of note, should he bother remembering.”
    Eleanor nodded with encouraging sympathy.
    “In the past, I might have suggested you ask old Tibia. She always saw things others did not, and she was at the inn for a bit of stew and ale that night.” She shrugged. “But I doubt she cares any longer about what goes on around her. With all the pain she now suffers, those sharp eyes have surely dulled. It is a blessing