quince trees and the neatly tended herbs that flowered in autumn.
“This is so beautiful,” he said. “I’ve never seen the like.”
“Master Scovill, if you please?” Sister Eleanor snapped. “We are very busy at the priory.”
I edged into the chapter house, reluctant to return to this room. But all signs of the feast had been removed, except for the tapestry. There were no tables, no candlesticks, no cloths or silver. The stench of meat had evaporated. Geoffrey walked in just as slowly as I did, his eyes tracking every inch, as if he was re-creating the evening’s mayhem.
Indifferent to his need to concentrate, Sister Eleanor said, “Master Scovill, how much longer will you and the other men from Rochester be here at the priory?”
Geoffrey was now taking in the details of the tapestry. Without looking away from it, he explained, “The coroner is bound to hold an inquest within three days of arriving on the scene of a suspicious death. A jury of twelve local men must hear the evidence, must decide if murder has been committed. A coroner may indict a suspect, and if the jury agrees, a justice of the peace may then bind that accused person over for trial.”
Only two days remained before the inquiry would need to take place, I realized.
“This tapestry is based on a story?” Geoffrey asked.
“It’s a story taken from ancient Greece,” answered Sister Eleanor. “The tale of Daphne, the nymph. She was turned into a tree by her father, a river god.”
“Why did he turn her into a tree?”
Sister Eleanor laughed scornfully. “I hardly think this is based on something that really happened, Master Scovill.”
“I understand that, Sister,” he said, still patient. “But there could be deeper meaning to these figures.” He pointed at the figure of Daphne. “She looks frightened to me.” He turned to examine the three hunters to the left of Daphne. “Is she meant to be frightened of them?”
“I have no idea,” Sister Eleanor said.
“There is more of a story to this,” I said. “I heard that a couple of days ago.”
Geoffrey turned to me. “From whom?”
Too late, I remembered who it had been. “Brother Edmund,” I muttered.
Geoffrey nodded. “Ah, of course. Brother Edmund.”
I did not like the way he said it. “Why do you not speak to him then?” I asked. “You will soon see what kind of person he is.”
“We shall be speaking to Brother Edmund, be assured. He is last on our list.”
Sister Eleanor murmured, “Actually, now that you make mention of it, there is something about this tapestry.” She squinted hard. “The girl, Daphne, she looks like someone I’ve seen. But I can’t think of who.”
“Do you use models for the figures in your tapestries?” asked Geoffrey.
She shook her head.
“Sister Agatha also said she looked familiar,” I recalled.
Geoffrey brightened. “Sister Eleanor, please go and find this Sister Agatha and bring her here.”
She looked at me, unsure.
Geoffrey waved his hand. “Sister Joanna will be fine. I may have more questions about the tapestry for her to answer, so she must remain. Please make haste. As you said, we are all busy people.”
In a moment she was gone and we were, finally, alone.
I cleared my throat and said, “I am pleased to see that you are healthy and well.” How awkward it came out.
Geoffrey said cautiously, “And you, Sister Joanna.” He paused. “The last time I saw you, you did not look at all healthy and well.”
“That’s true. But all is mended.”
He asked, “How did you manage that?”
“I was cleared of all suspicion and released to Dartford,” I said.
“How fortunate.”
I did not know what else to say. I’d arranged for this opportunity, to speak to Geoffrey, and now I’d turned mute.
He was the one who broke the silence.
“They don’t know I was held two nights in the Tower,” Geoffrey said in a low voice. “Sir William Kingston checked my name on the rolls of constabulary office for Rochester—the records were in London—and that, along with my sworn statement, was enough. I was never officially arrested. So when he released me, I went home and told the chief constable I’d stayed at a London inn. I feared for many weeks that someone would come, that a letter would be sent. It never happened.”
“I see.”
He bit his lip. “I would appreciate it if you would not expose my involvement in your case. It could ruin me.”
“But you nearly exposed that I was the one who left Dartford without permission,” I pointed out, still angry.