His tone never varied, but Catherine cringed. The old Thibault was not entirely tamed. She wondered again if this meeting were wise, although Countess Mahaut seemed to think it was the best hope for revealing the truth.
As the first injured party, Raynald began by describing how Alys was found in the woods near Tonnerre, beaten and left for dead.
“Where were her guards?” Thibault asked. “She certainly didn’t leave Quincy alone.”
Raynald pointed dramatically at Walter.
“They were found nearby,” he said. “Two had been killed, shot with a crossbow. The other two were severely wounded. Both have since died as a result. They reported that the attacker was a huge man, alone. They believed him to be a demon.”
Everyone looked at Walter. It wasn’t difficult to imagine.
“It is well known that Walter wished to marry Alys, himself,” Raynald went on. “I contend that he tried to abduct her and, when she resisted, he killed her. He said he was nowhere near Quincy, but I can bring witnesses who saw him there. My lord count, I want justice for this atrocity. I want him hanged like the common murderer he is.”
In her corner, Constanza sobbed loudly.
Thibault turned to the lord of Grancy.
“Walter,” he said. “How do you answer this charge.”
“I am innocent,” Walter declared. “I would never have touched Alys.”
He bit his lip and looked guiltily at Catherine and Edgar.
“I was near Tonnerre that day,” he admitted. “Alys had sent word to me that she needed my help. She didn’t say why. I came as quickly as I could but I arrived too late. I should have spoken of it sooner; I didn’t think anyone would believe me. I suppose, once she was dead, I didn’t care. I had nothing to do with her death or anyone else’s. I don’t need to kill in secret and I was on my way to the Paraclete with Edgar and his wife at the time of the attack there. They are here now and will swear to this. I saw the men who did it and would know them again, if I saw them on horseback. One was wounded in the right thigh, just as Rupert of Quincy is.”
Everyone looked at Rupert.
“I received this in an accident near my home,” he said, looking more vague and feeble than ever. “I am hardly the sort of man who would take violent action against anyone.”
Thibault motioned for Edgar to approach.
“Young man,” he said. “I understand you are here on behalf of the Paraclete.”
“Yes, my lord count,” Edgar answered. “They don’t have a formal
advocatus,
so Abbess Héloïse requested that I speak for them. The abbess is concerned, not only by the attack on the Countess Alys and the lay sister, Paciana …”
Here Constanza gasped. “She’s dead, I tell you! Why must we go through this again? Rupert, you swore to me she was dead!”
“Quiet!” Thibault ordered.
Edgar continued. “There is also the problem of a bequest that the countess left to the convent. Although her husband agreed to it, there is some dispute now as to who has the right to this land. Raynald claims it is his as her survivor. Lady Constanza says it was part of her dower from her first husband. I believe that the value of this property could be considerable, but I have revised my earlier conviction that it would be grounds for murder.”
Catherine was, for the moment, so impressed with Edgar’s style that she forgot her fears in pure pride. Thibault, however, felt no wifely partiality.
“Then why mention it at all?” he asked.
Edgar swallowed. He was about to throw the thunderbolt. If only it didn’t bounce back and strike him.
“After much investigation,” he said carefully, “we have come to the conclusion that the countess of Tonnerre had no right to the property in question, either to keep or to dispose of it. She was said to have inherited the land through her father, Gerhard of Quincy.”
“If you’re going to say it should have been Paciana’s, you won’t get far,” Count William broke in. “Whether she was killed by a fever or entered a convent, it makes no difference. She still renounced all claim to her inheritance.”
“I know that, my lord,” Edgar said. He wondered if they could tell how fast his heart was beating. “Our assertion is that Alys, countess of Tonnerre, had no right to the property because she was not the daughter of Gerhard of Quincy.”
Constanza rose in fury.
“How dare you!” she screamed. “I’ll have your head over my hearth for such a slander!”
“Sit down, Constanza,” Thibault said. “That is an odious accusation to make, young man. And, I think, almost impossible to prove.”
Suddenly Catherine remembered that Thibault had inherited the county of Champagne from his uncle in just such a case. Count Hugh had been presented with a son by his young wife after several doctors had told him he was sterile. Hugh did not believe his wife’s statement that God had granted him a miracle, especially since he had been on crusade at the time of conception. He repudiated the wife and had her sent away. The baby was rejected. But there were still people who argued that the boy was the true count, although not in front of Thibault. Catherine hoped the memory of this would dispose the count to listen further.
“Can you prove your accusation?” Thibault asked.
This is where the earth threatened to become a bog beneath their feet. Edgar tried to remember who was patron saint of lawyers. He couldn’t, so he just breathed a quick supplication to the Virgin to protect and guide his path.
“Evidence has been found to indicate that all the murders were committed with the sole purpose of hiding the true parentage of the countess Alys,” he told the room, trying to sound as assured an orator as Master Abelard. “I would like to request that my wife be allowed to speak, as she is the one who discovered what really happened.”
Thibault looked at Catherine, who stood, blushing. Countess Mahaut went over to her husband and whispered something in his ear. Thibault pursed his lips, then nodded.
“Your name?” he asked her.
“Catherine LeVendeur,” she answered. “Daughter of Hubert LeVendeur and Madeleine de Boisvert, of Paris.”
“Oh, Hubert’s girl,” he surprised her by saying. “I thought you’d gone to the Paraclete.”
“I was there,” she said. “I left to be married. I never took my vows. But I was present the night that countess Alys was brought to the convent and I have known the lay sister Paciana for several years. I was also the one,” she added, glancing nervously at Rupert, “who discovered the body in your privy.”
Thibault’s eyebrows raised.
“An unfortunate coincidence?” he asked.
Catherine bowed her head. “No, my lord,” she said. “I fear that Lisiard was slaughtered because of what he knew about the family of Quincy. He told me some of it the night he died. I believe he also mentioned it elsewhere and those he gossiped about decided he should be silenced.”
“I’m still waiting for proof,” Thibault told her.
“If I may beg your indulgence, my lord,” Catherine said. “It might help if I explain how I discovered this.”
“I haven’t forbidden it,” Thibault said, with some impatience.
“No, my lord.” Catherine reached for Edgar’s hand, but he had retreated to let her tell her story. Instead she clasped both hands together, almost in supplication.
“While in Troyes, I observed several things that puzzled me about the family of the countess Alys,” she said. “There seemed to be little grief concerning her death. Also, there seemed to be no agreement about the sort of person she was, only that she was timid. I was unhappily present at a confrontation between Count Raynald and Lady Constanza. What they said convinced me that Alys was beaten by someone in her own family, not an outside attacker.”
“Lies!” shouted Raynald. “This girl is only seeking to advance her own family in your regard.”
“I don’t see how,” Thibault said. “Continue.”
“I told Mother Héloïse what I suspected and she arranged for me to visit Quincy.” Catherine noticed that Constanza sat up straighter at the mention of the abbess. “While there, I discovered evidence that Alys did not miscarry as a result of the attack, but before she left Quincy and through her own machinations.”
She explained about the herbs, the monkey and the pessary.
Raynald’s jaw was tight and his fists clenched. He turned to Constanza.
“You were supposed to watch her,” he muttered. “None of this would have happened if you’d done your job.”
Thibault leaned forward, fascinated.
“She aborted the child herself?” he asked. “Whose was it?”
“That’s what confused me,” Catherine admitted. “Everyone agreed that it had to have been her husband’s.”
“Oh.” Thibault leaned back, disappointed. “Now I’m confused. Why would she get rid of a legitimate heir?”
Catherine braced herself. “I thought about that a long time. Alys hadn’t wanted to marry Raynald; it took a number of tortures from her mother to convince her to do so. But once she did, she seems to have been resigned to her duty. And, no matter how much she hated him, having a healthy child could only improve her position. Also, she was very devout. It was her greatest wish to become a nun at the Paraclete. I know that she aborted before the quickening, which isn’t as severe a sin, but I still couldn’t believe she would do such a thing simply for her own comfort.”
She glanced around to be sure Walter was ready to protect her.
“The only reason I could deduce from what I knew, and I didn’t believe it until I saw the lady Constanza in Paris, …” Catherine looked at Constanza now. She realized with a thrill of horror that all her speculations had been correct. Constanza was glaring at her in pure hate and terror. Catherine paused, trying to keep her voice steady. “The only reason would be if Alys had found out that to have the child would be a greater sin than to kill it.”
Raynald leaped to his feet. “I won’t listen to this!” he shouted. “The woman is raving! She is spinning lies for some maliciousness of her own.”
“Raynald,” Thibault said. “I will decide if she is lying. When she is done, you may refute her. Have you finished, Catherine?”
“Almost,” Catherine couldn’t keep from shaking now. “At first I thought that Alys’s mother and stepfather had beaten her when they discovered what she had done. They had. But the maid swears Alys was alive when she left for Tonnerre. That left one possibility.”
She faced Raynald.
“Alys returned to Tonnerre and told you that she could no longer live with you,” Catherine said softly. “I think she was trying to get back to the Paraclete. Your guards weren’t out there to protect her, but to help catch her. And when you found her, and she resisted, you hit her, over and over.”
She tried to stop the tears, but couldn’t. She had to finish.
“When you saw what you had done, you had to dispose of the guards, too.” She ended. “Why? Why not let her go? The property she brought to you was nothing.”
Raynald started toward her. “You will burn at the bottom of hell for your foul lies,” he began.
Suddenly, Constanza stood and lunged at him. Raynald was taken by surprise as her nails raked his face. He managed to push her away. She fell against Catherine, who caught her by the arms.
“You killed my baby!” she shrieked at Raynald. “You cold, arrogant bastard. She wasn’t good enough for you, not well enough born! You only married her to help your own schemes, because William wanted you to. You didn’t want her any more than she did you and yet you hated her for not respecting your exalted rank. You sneered at her and at me. She was all I had, you filthy beast! I did everything for her.”
William, who had heretofore been a silent observer, abruptly stood, strode over to Constanza and slapped her.
“She’s hysterical with grief,” he said icily. “She’ll say anything. I’ve had enough of this. I will not have my family denounced by persons of inferior birth.”
Constanza lifted her head and spit at him.
“Inferior!” She could barely force the words out, her rage was so great. “It was you who thought they should marry. You laughed when I protested. What did you think their children would be, wax copies of you?”
William raised his hand once more. Catherine tried to turn Constanza from the blow.
Walter didn’t have his crossbow, but he didn’t need it. He caught Count William by the shoulders and lifted him off the floor.
Raynald slowly came forward. He looked at his father, dangling in the air in impotent rage. For the first time, Catherine saw the count of Tonnerre uncertain.
“What is she saying, Father?” he asked. “What have you done to me?”
Catherine pulled Constanza upright, tightening her hold on the woman’s arms.
“Tell him,” she commanded. “It’s too late for lies.”
Constanza glared at them all, especially Raynald. Only Catherine’s grip kept her from flying at him.
“You think yourself so fine and noble.” She tried to laugh but choked on it. “The perfect schemer, arranging everything for your own gain. Well, you are nothing next to your father!”