least, or even three. “He’s been sent for?”
“One of Lady Ermentrude’s men has gone. And he’s to tell Lady Ermentrude’s son she’s ill. So there’ll be more trouble there, too.”
The message might bring every Fenner who possibly could make the journey to St. Frideswide’s. Lord Walter would surely come, bringing Heaven only knew how many followers and friends. And the guest-hall chimney still needed repairing, and there was hardly room left for putting up a single poor traveler, much less another entourage.
But if nothing else, their coming might divert idle tongues from talk of demons and devils. There was some bit of comfort in that, Frevisse thought.
“And I should have told you already that Domina Edith wants to see you. Now, before Compline, if possible,” Dame Claire said.
“Which gives me somewhere safe to go, and you had better find one, too, because Sister Amicia is strolling to intercept us.”
“Oh merciful Heaven,” Dame Claire said, and turned toward the church as Frevisse left her for Domina Edith’s parlor.
The old greyhound had raised itself up from its basket and was standing beside the prioress’s chair, accepting bits of biscuit when Frevisse entered. Domina Edith looked up and nodded, finished with the dog, patted its head, and told it to go lie down again, which it obediently did. “And you, Sister Lucy, may go walk in the garden with the others awhile,” she said to her attendant. “Dame Frevisse will keep me company until Compline.”
After Sister Lucy made her curtsey, Domina Edith gestured Frevisse to sit on the window seat across from her. Domina Edith sat as if sinking into sleep for a few moments before raising her head and saying, with no sign of sleepiness at all, “Martha ate and drank before she died. A milksop from our kitchen. Wine from Sir John. Herbs from our infirmary.”
“Yes, my lady,” Frevisse answered quickly. Then she made the mental leap to overtake the prioress’s mind and said, startled, “Surely not!”
“Surely not,” Domina Edith agreed firmly. “There was nothing wrong with any of it, but the crowner will be here, asking questions, and there will be talk. There is always talk when someone dies without obvious cause. I would like the answers known before the questions begin. Who made the milksop?”
“Thomasine was sent for it. I don’t know if she or Dame Alys or one of the lay workers made it. It might have even been Martha herself.”
“Do find out, please. And what particularly went into it. The wine she drank was Sir John’s?”
“He brought it because it’s Lady Ermentrude’s favorite. It was to hand and easier to use than gathering the keys to the priory’s supply just then.” •
“Very reasonable and thoughtful. The herbs?”
“Dame Claire sent Thomasine for them. She was very specific which box she wanted, and was satisfied with what Thomasine brought.”
Domina Edith drew a deep sigh and let it out heavily. “That all seems reasonable. It is only a pity that Dame Alys makes so great a matter of the quarrel between her family and the Fenners, and her wishing she could have a hand in it, since the food came from her kitchen.”
“True. But she may have had no hand in the milksop.”
“But Thomasine surely did. And with the medicine. She had both of them at one time or another, and everyone knows how plainly terrified her aunt had made her.
“Not terrified enough to kill,” Frevisse protested.
“That is what must be made clear to Master Montfort when he comes. Thomasine is strung too high for her own health and an accusation of murder could destroy her.”
Frevisse, frowning, said, “You don’t think—”
“No. She has been here long enough for me to take her measure. She could not hide such a deed, if she had done it.”
“No,” Frevisse agreed.
Domina Edith nodded her bobbing nod that
“One of Lady Ermentrude’s men has gone. And he’s to tell Lady Ermentrude’s son she’s ill. So there’ll be more trouble there, too.”
The message might bring every Fenner who possibly could make the journey to St. Frideswide’s. Lord Walter would surely come, bringing Heaven only knew how many followers and friends. And the guest-hall chimney still needed repairing, and there was hardly room left for putting up a single poor traveler, much less another entourage.
But if nothing else, their coming might divert idle tongues from talk of demons and devils. There was some bit of comfort in that, Frevisse thought.
“And I should have told you already that Domina Edith wants to see you. Now, before Compline, if possible,” Dame Claire said.
“Which gives me somewhere safe to go, and you had better find one, too, because Sister Amicia is strolling to intercept us.”
“Oh merciful Heaven,” Dame Claire said, and turned toward the church as Frevisse left her for Domina Edith’s parlor.
The old greyhound had raised itself up from its basket and was standing beside the prioress’s chair, accepting bits of biscuit when Frevisse entered. Domina Edith looked up and nodded, finished with the dog, patted its head, and told it to go lie down again, which it obediently did. “And you, Sister Lucy, may go walk in the garden with the others awhile,” she said to her attendant. “Dame Frevisse will keep me company until Compline.”
After Sister Lucy made her curtsey, Domina Edith gestured Frevisse to sit on the window seat across from her. Domina Edith sat as if sinking into sleep for a few moments before raising her head and saying, with no sign of sleepiness at all, “Martha ate and drank before she died. A milksop from our kitchen. Wine from Sir John. Herbs from our infirmary.”
“Yes, my lady,” Frevisse answered quickly. Then she made the mental leap to overtake the prioress’s mind and said, startled, “Surely not!”
“Surely not,” Domina Edith agreed firmly. “There was nothing wrong with any of it, but the crowner will be here, asking questions, and there will be talk. There is always talk when someone dies without obvious cause. I would like the answers known before the questions begin. Who made the milksop?”
“Thomasine was sent for it. I don’t know if she or Dame Alys or one of the lay workers made it. It might have even been Martha herself.”
“Do find out, please. And what particularly went into it. The wine she drank was Sir John’s?”
“He brought it because it’s Lady Ermentrude’s favorite. It was to hand and easier to use than gathering the keys to the priory’s supply just then.” •
“Very reasonable and thoughtful. The herbs?”
“Dame Claire sent Thomasine for them. She was very specific which box she wanted, and was satisfied with what Thomasine brought.”
Domina Edith drew a deep sigh and let it out heavily. “That all seems reasonable. It is only a pity that Dame Alys makes so great a matter of the quarrel between her family and the Fenners, and her wishing she could have a hand in it, since the food came from her kitchen.”
“True. But she may have had no hand in the milksop.”
“But Thomasine surely did. And with the medicine. She had both of them at one time or another, and everyone knows how plainly terrified her aunt had made her.
“Not terrified enough to kill,” Frevisse protested.
“That is what must be made clear to Master Montfort when he comes. Thomasine is strung too high for her own health and an accusation of murder could destroy her.”
Frevisse, frowning, said, “You don’t think—”
“No. She has been here long enough for me to take her measure. She could not hide such a deed, if she had done it.”
“No,” Frevisse agreed.
Domina Edith nodded her bobbing nod that
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