Belladonna at Belstone by Michael Jecks Read Free Book Online

the priory’s treasurer. It was she who wrote to me to state her conviction that the poor girl was murdered.”
    “Did she say by whom?”
    Bertrand looked down at his withered hand as if wondering at the accusation he had heard. “By the prioress herself, Sir Baldwin,” he said eventually.
    Peter leaned forward. “You see the good bishop’s difficulty? Bishop Stapledon is away and cannot be consulted, and if news of this were to be rumoured about…‘
    “I cannot ignore the accusation of so senior a nun,” Bertrand murmured.
    “Not that you would wish to,” Baldwin stated sharply. Now he understood Bertrand’s expression. The suffragan would have preferred to burn the letter and put this novice’s death down to an accident so that the Bishop of Exeter would have a shining example of a perfect deputy when he received Bertrand’s report. Clearly that was impossible now the treasurer had put her suspicions in writing; but Bertrand could still win the good bishop’s gratitude by clearing up the business quickly or performing some sort of cover-up. “If this is truly an act of murder,” Baldwin growled, “it must be investigated.”
    “Quite,” said Peter. “So could you go and look into it?”
    “Me? But I have no jurisdiction,” Baldwin protested with surprise.
    “Of course not! This matter falls under the Canon Law, but you have experience, and you may be able to assist the good bishop,” said Peter.
    “Surely you would do better to seek the aid of a coroner.”
    “Sir Baldwin, this matter is utterly confidential,” Peter said with emphasis.
    Baldwin nodded and grinned his understanding. The King’s man in Exeter was a hard-drinking, whoring fool, to Baldwin’s mind. Coroners were among the most corrupt of all the King’s officers, for they had much work to see to and received no pay -other than what they could extort from felons prepared to pay for their release.
    “No, we need someone on whom we can rely not only to advise Bishop Stapledon’s man, but who shall also be discreet,” Peter said.
    “Well, the Warden’s Bailiff, then. Simon Puttock does at least have some secular authority in Dartmoor.”
    “I have already sent a message asking him to meet you there,” Peter smiled. “He will be at the inn at the road to Belstone, the one at the foot of the cleave.”
    Baldwin remembered it. A small tavern at the bottom of the Belstone Valley, near a mill, where the Taw River rushed constantly. The memory did nothing to allay his concerns and he considered the proposal doubtfully. Admittedly there was little enough to do at his manor; his official duties would not be seriously affected, were he to ignore them for a week or two, and this affair had captured his interest, but… ‘I hardly think the prioress would be happy to have a complete stranger, someone who is neither priest nor monk, arrive to perform such an enquiry, especially bearing in mind the serious nature of the accusation against her.“
    “She should be glad to have anyone in whom she can place her trust,” said Bertrand shortly. “The woman struck me as being open to accusations of almost every possible impropriety.” He mused a moment, brow wrinkled. “Take this as an example, Sir Baldwin. I raise it only as an indication of her behaviour, you understand: this prioress has permitted the church roof and that of the dormitory to fall so far into disrepair that both have holes in them. Apparently they were leaking noticeably last autumn, and yet now, months later, the choir of the church is open to the elements and nuns can’t sleep in parts of their dorter.”
    “I have heard of other places where similar difficulties have arisen,” Baldwin pointed out with rising irritation. That Bertrand’s words were true Baldwin did not doubt, but Baldwin wondered about his motivation. There were priests who would be pleased to harry a convent to destruction if it would enhance their political status within the Church, and this