A Twisted Vengeance

Eleanor glanced up from the prie-dieu as the opening of the door set the altar cloth and the Blessed Virgin’s silk finery fluttering. Standing in the doorway, Kate cleared her throat to announce her presence. All three sisters – four if one counted Agnes – raised their heads from their prayerful bows and looked at her.

“Sister Brigida, Sister Agnes, I would speak with you.”

Eleanor caught Brigida’s arm as she began to rise. “When we are finished with our prayers, Katherine.”

“I will go to her now,” Brigida said, removing Eleanor’s hand and pressing it firmly as one would a puppy, telling it to stay. She rose and crossed the room. Agnes followed. Kate paused, waiting for her mother’s protest. But Eleanor simply returned to her prayers.

Plucking a bench from the kitchen, Kate placed it facing the small bench beneath the plane tree. She took a seat, inviting the two sisters to sit across from her. Without giving either time to speak, Kate repeated what Marie had just told her. At one point Brigida attempted to explain why Marie had been alone in the yard, but Kate held up a hand and continued. Brigida’s negligence was another issue. When Kate mentioned the golden baby Jesus, Agnes gasped, Brigida frowned.

“Golden?” Brigida shook her head. “It is wood and cloth.”

“So he was right that you have such a doll?”

“Many beguine houses have them. The Christ child in a manger, or a cradle. We place it on the altar during prayers and reflect on the great love God has for us that he allowed his only Son to be born as a human child so that he might live on this earth and suffer with us, show us the way. It is not a doll, and certainly not an idol. No more than the statue of the Virgin or Christ on the cross. But it has no monetary value.”

“Why have I never seen it?” Kate asked. “Have you?” she asked Agnes.

Agnes bobbed her bowed head. “I have.”

“Has Nan?”

“I believe she has,” Agnes whispered.

“Why have I not seen it?” Kate repeated.

“We keep it hidden away when we are not reflecting upon it,” said Brigida. “It has been misunderstood. Men of the Church have sneered at us, saying we play at mothering the Christ child. Some even say we pretend to nurse him. They ridicule us. For no reason. As I said, the purpose is the same as the images in churches – the statues, the crosses. I will gladly show you – there is no gold.”

“Sister Agnes,” Kate touched the woman’s arm. “I think you know something you aren’t telling us. Speak.”

The woman shifted on the bench and raised her head. Her cap was damp. Overheated despite the chill in the air that was raising the down on Kate’s neck. Agnes tucked her chin close, causing her multiple chins to line up beneath her, rather like a cat puffing up to intimidate its opponent.

“Well?” Kate said.

“There is a bit of gold thread in the baby’s garments, and a little gilt crown circling his head. Nan might have asked me if it was of any value.”

“She might have?”

An impatient sigh. “I do not recall all our conversations. She is my maidservant. Was mine. And her prattle is mostly silly. Baubles, men, how tedious she finds her work. I would slap her if I listened to it all. But you get little work out of a maidservant too often slapped.”

Not so unlike her mistress. Kate just nodded.

“Do you think she told Robin that the Christ child was a golden idol?” asked Brigida.

Agnes shrugged.

“This incident took place before the night of the intruder,” said Kate. “Friday. Why was Marie alone in my cousin’s yard, Brigida?”

The sister frowned up through the crown of the plane tree as she thought back. “Petra had a bad tummy. I had escorted her to the privy.”

As Marie had reminded her, Petra had spent Saturday and Sunday in bed. “So Nan told Robin at least a week ago.”

“You are quick to blame Nan,” Agnes snapped. “Poor thing is missing.”

“Do you have a better explanation, Sister Agnes?” Kate asked sweetly. “Was it you who bragged of golden treasures in the Martha House?”

“No! No. Dame Eleanor explained to me why the Christ child is tucked away upstairs, and I told Nan.”

Remembering Agnes’s comments about Nan’s chatter, Kate asked, “Did you tell Nan why it is kept hidden, or simply that it must be?”

Agnes’s gaze slid sideways. “She wanted to see it up close and I refused. I said it was kept secret.”

“Oh, Sister Agnes,” Brigida whispered.

Yes.

Now Agnes’s eyes began to shine with tears. “You do not think Hans died for this?”

“I don’t know,” Kate answered honestly. “If you would leave us now, Sister Agnes.”

“Do not blame yourself overmuch,” said Brigida. “Now is the time to open your heart to the Lord.”

Much good that would do. “If you think of anything that might help us find Nan, come to me at once,” Kate said.

Agnes bowed to both of them and walked slowly back to the house.

“You are thinking of Friar Adam and his questions about idols?” Brigida guessed.

Kate nodded. “My mother said you were taken aback by it at the time. So it is not a question one might expect a friar to put to you?”

“No. I thought he meant it as an insult. But why would he wish to steal it?”

“To bring it to light as proof that the city should shun beguines?” Kate shook her head. “Perhaps he might have encouraged the theft, but the murder I cannot see. For all that I dislike him, he is a man of God. What he might not have considered is that he has no control over the greed of thieves.”

“They might have hoped to keep the golden idol for themselves.” Brigida glanced up as a gust of wind shook the leaves, dropping several in their laps.

“Or they hoped that where there is a little treasure, there might be much more. So they questioned Hans, got angry … I admit I cannot make sense of it. Hans and Robin’s trespass might not even be related.” Each new fact seemed but to inspire more questions.

Brigida lifted one of the leaves and twirled it between her fingers. “I do not understand the yearning for others’ possessions. They might fight for the king or the duke and earn their way honorably.”

“You are a true innocent, Sister Brigida.”

Brigida took it as an affront. “Not innocent,” she said with some heat. “We have seen much in our work in the community. I believe most people strive to do good and avoid evil, yet evil is ever in our paths. Some have the strength to resist, others do not. If we might only teach them the benefit.”

Kate disagreed. “You have no control over others. Friar Adam’s belief that he might impose such control is an error for which many have suffered. Perhaps. I cannot yet prove he is behind this.”

“For my part, I regret that I was not there to protect Marie.”

“I do as well.” It was not the time to placate the woman. “You will be more vigilant going forward. In any case, for the nonce you are tutoring the girls in my home, out of danger, so nothing can happen.” As Kate rose, she told Brigida she would go to Dame Jocasta in the morning to speak with her about a more suitable confessor. “We do not want Friar Adam to return.”

“No, Dame Katherine. He is not welcome in our Martha House.”

As Kate rose so that Brigida might return her bench to the kitchen, her gaze wandered toward John Paris’s property next door to the Martha House. It lay on the side with the alley in which Dina, Robin, and Kevin had struggled, and the soldiers had intervened. At her own gate, she called to Lille and Ghent. Jennet came to see why. When Kate told her that she meant to talk to John Paris, Jennet shook her head, not liking the idea.

“I have never trusted that man. Wait until one of us can accompany you.”

“I will have Lille and Ghent with me – John fears them. And his wife, Beatrice, should be home at this hour. John fears her almost as much as he does the hounds. I will be safe.”