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ask. “Do either of you know whether any of our monks, lay or choir, might have had a quarrel with Kenelm?”
    “None of whom I was aware,” Thomas replied. He looked at Anne.
    “Those within these walls had little opportunity to suffer injury from him. The dead man only arrived here after the harvest was taken in,” the nun said. “As our crowner suggested,
     
    Kenelm was not well-loved by the villagers who did have contact with him. I never met the man, but I have overheard resentful comments about him made by some coming to us for care.”
    “Since his arrival, have any of our religious been given leave to go outside our walls?” Thomas asked.
    Eleanor denied it.
    “I have, and I never met him,” he said.
    “When the lay brothers brought the body to the hospital, those who saw it assumed he was a traveler found dead on the road.” Anne paused for a moment. “Not all dwelling in our priory did see the corpse, but our nuns are sequestered and we have few monks.”
    “Brother Gwydo is the only one who has not been here long,” Eleanor said.
    Thomas shook his head. “Surely he could not have had any- thing to do with this.”
    “It is unlikely, Brother,” Sister Anne said. “He has only just recovered enough strength to oversee the honey production, a light enough task for him. I do not think he would have been able to kill a man as strong as Kenelm, even if he had had cause.” “There was the blow to the head,” the monk said, his reluc- tance in mentioning this quite evident. “If Kenelm was stunned,
    a weaker man could have cut his throat.”
    “Brother Thomas and I examined the body.” Anne turned to Eleanor. “I concluded that the skull may have been cracked, but the blow did not kill him. Why the killer did not strike him again but instead cut his throat is a fair question.”
    “The murderer wanted to make sure he was dead?” Thomas looked doubtful. “He was so angry he both struck him and cut his throat?”
    “It is odd to do both. A man suffering frenzy will stab more than once, if he uses a knife, or hit his victim repeatedly, if he first struck him,” Anne said. “We know very little in fact. I grieve that I could not find anything of especial note from my examination. I doubt the corpse has more to teach us.”
     
    “Then we shall bury him,” Eleanor replied. In the summer heat, quick burial was obligatory. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at Sister Anne.
    After their return from Baron Herbert’s castle last winter, the sub-infirmarian had grown gaunt. Now, for the first time, there was a healthy blush in Anne’s cheeks and a long absent interest hovering in her eyes. “Your observations may own more merit than you think. I am grateful, and our crowner shall be as well,” the prioress said, feeling relief at the change in her friend.
    Thomas, on the other hand, looked uneasy. “Do you still believe this matter belongs to the king’s justice?”
    “The crime was committed on priory land,” Eleanor said. “Although we may feel confident that none of our religious were involved, I must still look more deeply into the question. Even if all of us are innocent, I must be kept informed and may wish to assist our crowner.” She smiled. “Ralf has always welcomed our assistance so we shall freely offer our help.”
    “But why did the crime occur at this spot?” Thomas rubbed sweat off his forehead. “It is but a short walk to the gate. If a quarrel burst out between two men, they would have left the priory to settle their differences. The forest or the road would have been the most likely place to fight. Why shed blood on God’s earth?”
    “Like you, I am troubled by that,” Eleanor replied. Her gray eyes now matched the color of the darkening clouds. “I fear murder was not done within our walls by accident. There was a reason.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
    Belia squeezed her mother’s arm with all her strength. Sweat ran down her face