Free The Witch's Tale (Sister Frevisse Medieval Mysteries) by Margaret Frazer Page B

who kept to his duties and did them well but managed to talk with the nuns he served as little as possible.  Bracing herself for something she probably did not want to hear, Frevisse turned to him.  "Master Naylor?"
    "I thought you'd best know before you went in to Vespers," he said, with a respectful bow of his head.  Master Naylor was ever particular in his manners.  "There's a man come in to say Master Montfort and six of his men will be here by supper time."
    Frevisse felt her mouth open in protest, then snapped it closed.  Among her least favorite people in the realm was Master Morys Montfort, crowner for northern Oxfordshire.  It was his duty to find out what lay behind unexpected deaths within his jurisdiction, then to bring the malefactor -- if any -- to the sheriff's attention, and to see to it that whatever fines or confiscations were due King Henry VI were duly collected.
    Frevisse had no quarrel with any of that, but Master Montfort had the regrettable tendency to prefer the least complicated solution to any problem and find his facts accordingly.  He and Frevisse had long since struck a level of mutual hostility neither was inclined to abate.  She was not happy to hear of his coming, and she said, "I trust he's just passing on his way to somewhere else?  There's no one dead hereabouts that I've heard of."
    Master Naylor shrugged.  "It's Jack Wilkins in the village, the day before yesterday.  They tolled the village bell for him but you were likely in church for Sext then."
    "But why is Montfort coming?  Is there's doubt about the way this Wilkins died?"
    "No doubt.  His wife shook a charm at him and cast a spell, and he fell down dead.  At least three of their neighbors saw it.  I'd not have thought it of Margery," he added.  "She's never been known to put her herbs to aught but good, that I've heard."
    "
Margery
?  Dame Claire’s Margery?"
    "That's her, the herbwife who visits here sometimes."
    "Does Dame Claire know?"
    "No more than you, I doubt.  It was witchcraft and murder certain enough.  Montfort will have it done a half hour after he's seen her and talked to her neighbors.  He'll probably be on the road to Banbury with her before noon tomorrow and she'll be in the bishop's hands not long after that.  I'd have reported it all to Domina Edith come week's end with the other village business."  He seemed to think that was all the dealing there needed to be with the matter; Jack and Margery were not among the priory's villeins, and so not his responsibility.  The lethal use of witchcraft wasn't usual; on the other hand, all herbwives used spells in their medicines, and it was but a small step to misuse them.  He would not have mentioned it except he knew of Margery's link with Dame Claire.
    The bell for Vespers began to ring.  Frevisse said impatiently, "Where is she being kept?"
    Master Naylor pointed through the gateway toward the outer yard.  "She's in one of the sheds there.  I've two of our men guarding her.  She's gagged so it's all right; they're safe.  There's nothing to be done."
    "Dame Claire will want to see her after Vespers," Frevisse said.  "Please you, tell the guesthall servants for me that Montfort is coming.  I have to go."
    The Vespers she had expected to enjoy was instead a prolonged discomfort of impatience; and afterwards she had to wait until supper was finished and the nuns went out into the garden for recreation time -- the one hour of the day their Benedictine rule allowed for idle talk -- before she could tell Dame Claire what was to hand.
    "Margery?" Dame Claire exclaimed.  Disbelief arched her eyebrows high toward her veil.  "Killed her husband with witchcraft?  I very much doubt it.  In fact I don't believe it at all!  I want to see her."
    That was easily done.  Frevisse waited at the foot of the stairs to the prioress' parlor while Dame Claire went up to ask permission.  Then they went together, out of the cloister and across the inner yard