The Scribe(148)
“The short ones are—” she reddened.
“Yes, I think so,” Alcuin confirmed.
After Theresa returned from washing her hands, she still felt disgusted. As she dried her hands, the monk offered his conclusions: “By all appearances the wet nurse was a tidy, meticulous woman, with no known romances and concerned only for the well-being of Wilfred’s daughters. This impression was reinforced by her plain attire, her clean face, and the care and attention she gave the little girls. However, the room that she shared with the twins tells a different story. Inside I found adornments, makeup, and perfume, as well as an expensive dress, more suitable for a young lady of means and of a marriageable age. The wet nurse was a mature woman and her pay wouldn’t have allowed her to buy those items. She must have acquired them by engaging in illicit activities.”
“That, or they were gifts,” Theresa suggested.
“At any rate,” he added, “she was a woman who was not so devoted to the children as would appear, especially considering that she had no qualms about sharing a room and bed with a graying man who was no doubt very old and a member of the clergy.”
“But, how can you be so sure?”
“From the smell of church incense on the blankets. His habit must have been impregnated with it.”
Theresa nodded, surprised. However, Alcuin did not attach much importance to it. He continued to tell her about his encounter with Zeno, explaining that, somehow, the crypt where they had taken Gorgias must have been connected to the inside of the fortress. He added that—due to the plates and food scraps he found—he was convinced that it was used to imprison her father.
At that moment someone banged on the door. When Alcuin opened it, a soldier was there to inform him that his presence was required.
“What’s happening?”
“They’ve found the wet nurse drowned in the cloister well.”
When Alcuin arrived at the well, several men were lifting the body out using pikes. Finally the woman’s bloated corpse surfaced, collapsing like a sack of pork belly onto the cloister paving. Her clothes had come undone, revealing an immense pair of breasts, flaccid from feeding the girls. Then, Izam was lowered down to inspect the bottom of the well and make sure there were no other bodies. When he came back up, he assured Wilfred that his daughters were not there.
They took the body to the kitchens, where after a superficial examination, Alcuin determined that she had been strangled to death before being deposited in the well. Her fingernails were chipped, but there was no trace of skin embedded under them, which meant they may have been damaged when the body was retrieved. He then examined the genitals, verifying that the pubic hair matched what he’d found on her pallet. Among her clothes he found nothing of significance. Her outfit befitted her role, a dark habit protected by an apron. Her face, though swollen, seemed clean, with no creams or makeup. When he had finished, he gave permission for her shrouding. Then he asked to speak to Wilfred alone.
In private he informed the count of his findings, which suggested that a member of the clergy had seduced the woman in order to kidnap the girls. However, he added that in his opinion, it was likely the wet nurse wasn’t aware of her lover’s intentions.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because otherwise she would have prepared to make her escape, yet her belongings were found in her cell.”
“Perhaps they attacked her. We don’t know for sure, for goodness’ sake. And the man that you speak of? Do you have any clues?”
“The blankets stank of incense,” he explained.
“I will order every priest be detained. If anyone has touched the children, I will string them up by their own entrails.”
“Calm yourself, my Lord. Bear in mind that if they wanted to kill your daughters, they would have done so already. No, the twins are safe. And as for some other perverted or ghoulish intentions, I would rule that out, too. If that were the case, it would have been easier to take any other little girl. There are dozens astray on every corner.”
“Calm myself? With my daughters at the mercy of some fiend?”
“I repeat: If they wanted to harm them, we would already know about it.”
“If they wanted? Why do you speak in the plural?”
Alcuin pointed out that it would have been difficult for one man to carry and hide two little girls. As for the motive, excluding despicable acts, and ruling out revenge, there could only be one reason.
“Stop speaking in riddles, man.”
“Blackmail, my esteemed Wilfred. In exchange for their lives, they intend to obtain something that you possess: power… money… land.”
“I’m going to make those rats eat their own balls,” the count bellowed, touching his testicles. The two dogs became agitated, making the chair shake.
“In any event,” Alcuin reflected, “it could well be that the suspected cleric only amused himself with the nanny and played no part in the kidnapping.”
“So what do you suggest—that I stay here with my arms crossed?”
“Be patient and get on with the search. Put the priests under watch and have them take oaths. Block the movement of people and goods. Make a list of those who enjoy your complete trust and another of those you believe capable of blackmailing you. But above all, wait for the kidnappers to communicate their intentions to you—for once they do, time will be of the essence.”