The Lady Agnes Mystery, Volume 1 (34 page)

Agnès.

‘Annelette … Tell me more about this … this chain.’

The large woman sighed before confessing:

‘I have told you most of what I know, Reverend Mother. For a time, I believed that our dear departed Benoît was in charge of its organisation. I was mistaken. Indeed, I am not even sure how apt the idea of a chain is.’

‘In that case who ordered you to watch over me?’ Éleusie was growing exasperated.

‘Benoît, of course.’

‘Our Pope, Nicolas Boccasini?’

‘Yes.’

‘How could that be? Did you know him?’

‘I belonged to his entourage when he was Bishop of Ostia.’

‘But he knew nothing about me … I was a mere intermediary.’

‘Perhaps.’

Éleusie’s annoyance was gradually giving way to alarm. She was beginning to feel that they were all unknowingly caught up in an enormous spider’s web. She stammered:

‘Are we not unwitting pawns on a chessboard we cannot even perceive?’

‘What does it matter if the chessboard is glorious? That is not the question. I am convinced that the person bringing death to our abbey is also responsible for the demise of the papal emissary whose apparently charred corpse was found in the forest with no signs of any fire nearby … Ergot of rye.’ Annelette appeared to reflect for a moment before adding: ‘Did you feed that messenger, the one who came here to see you?’

The Abbess understood instantly what the apothecary nun was driving at, and her heart sank at the thought that she might have unconsciously aided the poisoner. She exclaimed:

‘Dear God … you don’t suppose the bread I gave him … Could the oats, barley and spelt wheat used to make our daily bread have been contaminated?’

‘Ergot can infect other plants, though it is rare. And the flour Adélaïde found in the herbarium was unquestionably rye. It remains to be seen who gave the man the poisoned bread.’

Éleusie chided herself for feeling selfishly relieved.

‘It seems likely that the monster also killed the emissaries that were sent before and after the one you received here,’ Annelette continued.

Éleusie stared at her in silence. It was clear to her, too, and she could have kicked herself for not seeing it sooner. Tears of deep despair welled up in her eyes. Clémence, Claire, Philippine … You who have carried me all these years would be so disappointed by my weakness now.

‘Do you think there may also be a connection with Madame Agnès’s arrest and the arrival of that inquisitor?’ she heard herself ask in a muffled voice she barely recognised as her own.

‘It would not surprise me at all, Reverend Mother. However, I must know more before I can decide. Who is Madame de Souarcy really? And why is she so important to you? The secrecy we swore for our own protection complicates matters. You know that my task is to protect you and yet I know nothing of yours. Now that Benoît is dead, I think we must change the rules of the game.’

Éleusie paused:

‘What do you know about … What did Benoît tell you about …’

The apothecary smiled sadly and declared:

‘It is a difficult subject to broach, is it not? You cannot be sure how much I know, and I have no notion of the extent of what has been revealed to you. We observe one another, both reluctant to break our vow of absolute silence. I, too, have been hesitating for a long moment, Madame. I veer between the certainty that in the face of this partially glimpsed danger we must inevitably confide in one another, and the fear of making a disastrous error of judgement by unreservedly giving you my trust.’

Annelette’s words perfectly captured Éleusie de Beaufort’s own thoughts.

‘Then we must be brave, daughter, for it takes courage to trust others. What did Benoît tell you about the quest?’

The apothecary’s gaze strayed towards the window:

‘In truth, not a great deal. Benoît was afraid that too much knowledge might endanger the brothers and sisters who had joined his cause. No doubt he was right. His death is painful evidence of it. He revealed a few of the facts to me, but in such a disjointed way that I cannot be sure of having grasped everything. I can only relate them to you as they were related to me, over time. He spoke of a thousand-year-old struggle between two powers. Since the discovery of a birth chart, or rather two birth charts that are now in our possession, this secret but bloody war has been moving steadily towards its climax. One of the two planetary alignments concerns a woman whose whereabouts will become known during a lunar eclipse. Up until now the estimation of these two birth dates has been hindered by an erroneous astrological calculation. This woman must be protected, even at the cost of our lives. You play a key role in her protection, and I in turn am your guardian. That is all I know.’ Annelette turned her gaze from the gardens and studied Éleusie before concluding: ‘Why did I not think of it before? The woman is Agnès de Souarcy, isn’t she?’

‘We think so … but we are not entirely sure. All of Francesco’s research and calculations point to it being her.’

‘Why is her life so precious?’

‘We still do not know despite our endless speculations. Madame de Souarcy has no link with the Holy Land … Therefore she does not belong to the holy lineage as we had first supposed. Come and sit down here next to me, Annelette.’

The towering woman moved a few paces from the door with what seemed a heavier step than usual. Éleusie enquired:

‘Are you afraid?’

‘Of course I am, Reverend Mother. And yet doesn’t human
greatness lie in the ability to conquer that inborn fear which makes us want to hide in a hole and never come out, and carry on fighting?’

Éleusie gave a wistful smile.

‘You might be describing my life. I have always been afraid. I have tried hard to be brave and have failed more often than I have succeeded. I increasingly regret that death spared me and not one of my sisters. Any one of them would have been so much stronger and more resolute than I.’

Annelette sat down beside her on the edge of the bed and said softly:

‘How can you be sure of that? Who knows where or to what end we are being moved on the chessboard of which you spoke?’

The apothecary nun let out a sigh. The two women sat in silence for a moment. Éleusie was the first to speak:

‘I feel as if I am surrounded by an impenetrable fog. I have no idea what to do or which way to turn.’

Annelette sat up straight, declaring in her usual commanding tone:

‘We are not alone now. There are two of us, and I have no intention of allowing that evil snake to strike again with impunity. No! She will have me to contend with, us, and we will show her no mercy!’

The Abbess felt some of the same self-assurance – the same anger even – that she detected in Annelette. She too sat up straight and asked:

‘What can we do?’

‘Firstly, we must increase our vigilance in order to guarantee our own safety. As I told you, Abbess, our lives are no longer ours to do with as we please, and certainly not to make a gift of to any murderess. Secondly, we shall conduct an investigation.
Benoît is dead. We are therefore on our own and can expect no more timely help from him. The criminal is cunning. I suspect that she pilfers my remedies from the cupboard in the herbarium, which proves that she is well versed in the art of poison. I plan to remove the contents of certain bags and phials. We will need to store them in a safe place …’

Éleusie immediately thought of the library. No, she would keep the knowledge of that secret place even from Annelette.

‘Then I will lay a little trap of my own for that snake.’

‘What trap is that?’

‘I prefer it to remain a surprise, Reverend Mother.’

Annelette’s caution reassured Éleusie: the apothecary nun would not be taken in by anybody. So she did not insist upon being told her plan and simply nodded.

‘And now,’ her daughter continued, ‘we must turn our thoughts to Blanche de Blinot. Why would anyone want to murder a senile old woman who is going deaf and forgets everything she says or does from one moment to the next?’

The portrait was scarcely a charitable one, but Éleusie was beyond the customary petty reproofs it had been her task to mete out before.

‘Blanche is our most senior nun,’ the apothecary continued, ‘and your second in command, as well as acting prioress during her moments of lucidity, which are becoming few and far between.’

Annelette jumped up. A sudden thought had occurred to her. She pointed an accusatory finger at the Abbess and all but shouted:

‘And she is guardian of the seal!’

‘My seal!’ Éleusie cried out in horror, also jumping up. ‘Do you
think somebody might have taken it? A seal breaker!
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My seal can be used to send secret messages to Rome, to the King, to sign deeds, even death sentences … and any number of other things …’

‘When Blanche is not using the seal to authenticate minor documents in your name in order to lighten your chores, where is it kept?’

‘In my safe with my private papers.’

No sooner had she spoken than it dawned on her. Annelette appeared not to notice her unease for she insisted:

‘And is it there now?’

‘No … I mean, yes, I am certain it is,’ confirmed the Abbess, touching her chest to make sure that the key she always wore on its heavy chain was still there.

The sudden change in her voice alerted Annelette, who studied her attentively and waited for her to continue.

‘As an extra precaution, every abbey safe has three keys. The lock will not open without the combination of all three. It is the custom for the Abbess to have custody of one, the guardian of the seal another and the prioress the third.’

‘Am I to understand that as guardian of the seal and prioress Blanche keeps two keys?’

‘No. Our senior nun’s waning faculties induced me to take one back and entrust it to the cellarer nun, who answers directly to me and whose position in the abbey hierarchy makes her the obvious next choice.’

‘That spiteful creature Berthe de Marchiennes! I wouldn’t trust her with my life.’

‘You go too far, my child,’ Éleusie chided half-heartedly.

‘And what of it? Have we not gone beyond polite pleasantries? I don’t trust the woman.’

‘Nor do I,’ the Abbess confessed, ‘and she is not the only one.’ Éleusie paused for a moment before recounting the curious scene she had stumbled upon some weeks before: the exchange between the schoolmistress, Emma de Pathus, and Nicolas Florin, whom she had been obliged to lodge at the abbey.

‘Emma de Pathus actually spoke to the inquisitor whose presence we were forced to endure?’ echoed Annelette Beaupré, stunned. ‘The man is evil. He is one of our enemies. What could they have been talking about? Where might she know him from?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘We must keep a close watch on her, then. But firstly we must ensure that nobody has stolen the key from Blanche.’

‘The safe cannot be opened without my key.’

She could read in her daughter’s strained expression the thoughts that she was keeping to herself. Éleusie voiced them for her:

‘Indeed … If Berthe de Marchiennes … I mean, if the murderess is already in possession of the other two keys, then I am the last remaining obstacle,’ she concluded. ‘Let us go and question Blanche … Dear God, poor Blanche … what easy prey.’

They found the old woman in the steam room as they had expected. Blanche de Blinot sought relief for her aching bones in the only room that was heated at that time of year. She had made a little niche for herself in the corner where, with the aid of a lectern, she was able to sit and read the Gospels instead of standing up on painful limbs. The senior nun looked up at them, her eyes red from crying, and stammered:

‘I would never have believed that I might one day live through such a terrible thing, Reverend Mother. Poor little Adélaïde, a poisoner in our midst, and one of our own. Has the world come to an end?’

‘No, dear Blanche,’ Éleusie tried to comfort her.

‘Everybody is convinced that I am gradually losing my faculties and no doubt they are right. But my mind hasn’t stopped working entirely. That tea was meant for me, wasn’t it?’

The Abbess paused for a moment before admitting:

‘Yes, dear Blanche.’

‘But why? What have I done to make anyone wish to kill me? I, who have never offended nor harmed even the smallest of creatures?’

‘We know, sister. Annelette and I have considered this atrocity from every angle and have gradually come to the conclusion that it wasn’t a personal attack on you. Do you still have the key I gave you? The key to the safe.’

‘The key? So this is about the key?’

‘We think it might be.’

Blanche sat up straight on her lectern, trying not to wince with pain.

‘What do you take me for!’ she exclaimed in a voice that brought back to Éleusie some of the woman’s former determination. ‘My mind might wander sometimes, but I am not senile yet, contrary to what some say.’ She shot Annelette a withering glance. ‘Of course I still have it. I can feel it all the time.’

She pulled a leg out from under the lectern and thrust an ungainly leather shoe at the apothecary nun.

‘Come on. Since you’re still young, take off my shoe for me and roll down my stocking.’

The other woman obeyed. She discovered the tiny key under the sole of Blanche’s foot. The metal had left its indentation in the pale flesh.

‘This can only add to your aches and pains,’ Annelette remarked.

Intent upon scoring a victory, Blanche retorted:

‘That may be so, but I can be sure I’ll never mislay it. Do you really think you are the only one in this abbey with an ounce of common sense?’

The apothecary nun stifled a smile she deemed incongruous in these perilous circumstances, and confessed:

‘If indeed I did entertain such thoughts, you have proved me wrong.’

Blanche acknowledged her sister’s rejoinder with a nod of satisfaction and declared:

‘Your honesty does you credit.’ A sudden sadness extinguished the old woman’s fleeting contentment. ‘You are right about one thing, though. I am very old and prone to falling asleep. No. I do not resent any remarks you might have made about my enfeebled state.’ Turning to the Abbess, she concluded: ‘Reverend Mother, you are aware of the friendship, esteem and affection I feel for you. Pray relieve me of the burden of this key. If I found this painful hiding place, it was because there were times when during my too frequent naps I felt something brush against my neck or waist. Perhaps it was merely an impression, as in a dream. But I took it seriously enough to choose … my shoe.’