The Champion. Suzanne Barclay

      “A clever answer.”

      “A truthful one. I admired what Thurstan accomplished here, though his methods are not mine. As to taking his place…” Walter shrugged again. “I doubt few men could. I would welcome a chance to try, but I would not kill to get it.”

      A shrill voice sounded outside in the hallway.

      “You have no right to keep me out!” A woman burst into the room. She was not young, but still beautiful. Despite the early hour, her blond hair had been sleeked neatly back, coiled at her nape and encased in a gold wire net. Her fashionable green gown was close-fitting, showing off a slender body.

      Close on her heels came the guard. “My lord prior. .”

      “It is all right.” Walter’s manner stiffened. “Lady Odeline, is something amiss?”

      The lady sniffed and advanced on the prior, followed by a well-dressed youth in his early twenties. “Why have we been refused admittance to Thurstan’s chambers?” she demanded.

      Her easy use of Thurstan’s name piqued Simon’s interest. Could this be his mother? If so, she must have been a mere child when she bore him.

      “It was by my order, Lady Odeline. We are investigating the circumstances of the bishop’s death.”

      “Surely it was an accident.” Tears magnified the eyes she raised to the pnest. “Oh, cruel fate to take my brother from me. He was the only one who loved me. The only one who sympathized with my trials.”

      “Brother?” Simon whispered. He felt his mouth fall open in astonishment and closed it with a snap This was Thurstan’s sister? His own aunt?

      “Whatever will we do?” She clutched at the boy who now stood beside her. “Where will my son and I go? We have nothing. No home, no money. Nothing.”

      Simon’s compassion for her faltered. Clearly she cared more for her welfare than the loss of her brother. But then, her selfishness should not be surprising. Thurstan had cared more for satisfying his pleasures than for his holy vows or for the fate of any child he might sire.

      “I am certain the bishop provided for you,” said Walter.

      “Nay.” Lady Odeline was sobbing now. “He always said his money would go to build a chapel for his remains. And to the abbey. We will have nothing.”

      Walter sighed. “Jevan, take your mother above stairs to her chambers that she may rest.”

      “Nay, I would remain here and pray for my brother,” Lady Odeline said.

      “Tomorrow, when the matter of his passing has been settled, you may sit vigil here,” said the prior.

      Rage dried her eyes, and her cheeks went red as fire. “You would deny me this?” she demanded.

      Walter met her glare with coolness. “Regrettably. Nothing must be disturbed till we know what happened.”

      Simon looked to see how Jevan was taking this and found the boy staring at him. He was a head shorter than Simon with the lean build of a whippet, glossy black hair and pale skin. His eyes were narrowed to angry slits, glinting with blatant hatred. He knows I am Thurstan’s son. Simon felt the shame burn up his neck to his cheeks.

      “Jevan!” the lady cned. “We will take this up with the archdeacon.” She swept from the room, her son at her heels.

      Walter sighed. “Spoiled and willful. The lady is Thurstan’s youngest half sister. Doted on by her mother and always in trouble. A scandal led to her exile from court. Had Thurstan not agreed to let her stay here while Jevan studied at the cathedral school, they would both have been homeless.”

      “Jevan is studying to be a priest?”

      “A clerk. Thurstan feared that without discipline and a trade, he’d turn out like his father.” Walter paused. “The man was a drunkard, killed in a back alley brawl. Come,” he added. “Let us see if Brother Anselme has learned anything.”