I was happy having my own little tavern. A place where my sister Ann and I had escaped the clutches of war. We moved to this secluded space in 1631 after my husband fell in the raids of the Swedes. The little plot of land with a two-story tavern and little side house was perfect for us. Neatly nested at a trade route overseeing a lot of foot traffic. It had an open ground floor with a bar, kitchen and enough space for five big tables. Upstairs were five bedrooms to host overnight guests. The side house could be used for our bedrooms and additional storage. We decided to scrap together what little money we had to make a down payment. That was three years ago. Three good years.
I usually tend the bar and see that our customers get something warm in their stomachs while Ann rushes around taking orders and delivering drinks. Our customers are traders and craftsmen, interjected by the occasional noblemen or religious figures. So it was unsurprising when Bishop Sheffield of the nearby diocese sent ahead to reserve a room. He was known to travel along this route and had been a guest before. His arrival was announced for the following morning.
The day started slowly; I got up a few minutes before sunrise. I sent Ann on her way to the village to fetch some eggs and flour. I was preparing a small breakfast, consisting of scrambled eggs and some bread, when Brother Edmund came down to inquire about the bishop. The monk had arrived a couple of days ago; according to him, he was anxious to finally meet the bishop.
“Good morning, Ms. Semton.” He nodded his head and proceeded to one of the tables.
“Good morning to you too, Brother Edmund. I’m preparing breakfast. Would you like some?”
“No, fine lady. I have to finish my prayers before I’m allowed to break my fast.” He looked outside one of the small windows lining the inn. “Has Bishop Sheffield already arrived?”
“No. I think he should arrive in the next couple of hours.”
“Yes, of course. The sun is barely up.”
“You are a bit too eager to meet him. Give him at least time to have his morning prayers.”
“I shall tend to mine. I will be down for some of your delicious eggs in an hour from now.” He went up the small flight of stairs to the second story.
I turned around to put on some bacon on the fire. The smell spread across the small tavern, seemingly waking Baron Longhaul. I heard him shuffle around his room and emerge downstairs just minutes after. The baron, with his long brown hair and matching eyes, was a regular. He came by two days ago and got himself his usual room. He usually stays here for a few days while surveying the surrounding villages. A big tipper and always open to a friendly chat.
“Good morning, Milord. I see the smell of bacon has woken you. I hope not too early.” I said to him as the massive man was descending the stairs.
“Don’t worry, Ms Semton, it’s never too early to wake up to the smell of bacon. Please fetch me a plate with some eggs, bacon and your incredible bread.” I put a healthy portion of eggs and some strips of bacon on a plate before fetching some bread for him. “Please make that two big slices. I don’t know how you do it, but your bread is the best for miles. Sure you didn’t make a deal with the devil?” He laughed at his own joke.
“Lord Longhaul, that would be blasphemous. You know that a bishop is going to stay with us?”
“Really? The Bishop Christson?”
“No. Sheffield.”
“Oh yes, I must behave like a good Christian around him. The infallible Bishop Sheffield.”
“He should arrive in a couple of hours. So you got some time to prepare.” Both of us laughed, but as always, there was a kernel of truth in Longhaul’s joke. He had not the most stellar reputation regarding his faith. It was the usual nobility assortment of some adultery, loansharking, and minor sins here and there. I was handing him the bread when a young man of medium height with blond hair and fine clothes entered.
“Hello. I was looking for a room.” He spotted Lord Longhaul and hastily added. “I hope I didn’t disturb your breakfast, Milord.”
Lord Longhaul gave an indistinguishable grunt in response. He was too occupied wolfing down the plate before him to pay the man any attention.
“Then you are at the right address. I have a cosy room free. It will be two silver pieces per night if you are interested.”
“That would be perfect. Say, how far away is Betburry? I have some business to attend there.”
“It’s an hour-long walk.”
“Ah, good.”
“What is your name? I have to put it down in the registry.”
“Matthew Benton. I’m a merchant.”
With a burp, Lord Longhaul joined the conversation. “A merchant? What kind of goods are you selling?”
Mr Benton turned around with a hint of anxiety in his voice. “The usual, you know. Cloths and pottery from the surrounding villages. Everything that would fetch a profit.” He gave a nervous chuckle.
“Did you pay your toll on the way here?”
“Oh yes, of course, Milord. At all three points of this road. I would never dream of robbing a Lord of his righteous compensation for keeping the roads safe.”
“That’s a good boy.” Lord Longhaul shifted his attention back to his plate.
I addressed Mr Benton again. “Your room will be ready once you return. I have to give it a quick sweep.”
“Thank you. I will be off to Betburry in the meantime.” He left.
A few minutes later, Edmund descended the stairs again. He engaged Lord Longhaul in some small talk while eating his breakfast consisting of a small serving of eggs and bread, befitting a monk. I didn’t engage in their conversation besides a few well-selected platitudes. I was too busy preparing the dinner menu and taking stock of food and drink. After both had finished their meal, they excused themselves for the day and went about their business. The rest of the morning was spent cleaning and wondering when the Bishop would finally arrive. Ann returned from her trip shortly before midday.
“Julia, I am home!” She shouted from downstairs. “I got some meat and bacon as well. The Masons gave me a good price.”
“Ah, good. The Baron is eating up our stocks.” I said as I descended the stairs.
“Has the Bishop arrived?”
“Not yet.”
“Weird for a man of the cloth to be late. I would expect it to be a sin.”
“It probably is.”
“Did you bring the food to the pantry?”
“Yes. I put the meat at the back of the shelf.”
“Good.”
Before Ann could respond, the door opened, and the bishop I was anxiously waiting for stepped in. He was an elderly man of medium height and heavy build. His green eyes shined beneath a receding folk of white hair.
“What a blessed day. I take it that you have been waiting for me?”
“Yes, your excellency. We have prepared the room.” I replied while making a little bow.
“Ah, splendid. It is fantastic to be back here. I cannot wait for dinner. Your cooking, Julia, would make the Angels jealous.” With a little laugh, the bishop settled into a nearby chair.
Ann immediately stepped up to him. “Could I get you something to drink, your excellency? We have expanded our beer menu now that the roads are open again.”
“A beer does sound good. Tell me about those new brews?” Sheffield responded, adjusting his beautiful purple stole.
“We got a new kind of ale. It’s a white beer – or so it’s called. Apparently, monks in Belgium invented it some centuries ago, but it only now found its way to us.” Ann explained.
“Let’s have a taste. Would you two join me for a toast?”
Ann and I nodded. It wasn’t unusual for him to ask us to sit with him for a bit. We had shared many drinks and stories over the years, regardless of our difference in stand. A friendship connected us and the bishop. I poured the beer into three glasses. It violently foamed but formed a soft-looking cloud on top. I put the glasses on the table and sat down; Ann followed suit.
The bishop raised his glass to a toast. “To our good health and Julia’s exquisite food.”
Ann and I cheered with him. The beer was smooth with a rich flavour that faintly reminded me of bread. We drank in silence; once Sheffield had finished his glass, he excused himself to his room. There wasn’t much to do until dinner time, besides collecting the mail for our guests and serving the walk-ins. Both Sheffield and Longhaul received letters.
The house guests returned to the tavern around dinner time. It was stew night. They divided themselves upon the free tables. I handed out generously filled bowls steaming with a hearty stew. The bishop couldn’t stop praising it and helped himself to three servings, upsetting Edmund.
“Isn’t gluttony a deadly sin, your excellency?” Edmund asked in a dignified manner.
“Ah, my good brother. There is gluttony, and then there’s enjoying life given to us by our Father in Heaven. I doubt he minds if I enjoy an almost divine stew created by one of his servants.” Sheffield gave me a wink.
“My good bishop! How do you dare utter such blasphemy? A woman and her creation can never be divine. Don’t you remember Eva?”
“I dare say that you are blasphemous right now. Women are as much God’s creation as men. That is equal in their original sin and eventually in divinity if they lived a life of piety.”
“You sound like a protestant. A shame to the holy church.”
Longhaul injected himself into the conversation. “No, no, the Bishop is right. That’s why I love so many of them simultaneously.”
Now it was Sheffield’s turn to answer with indignation. “My good Baron, do not attempt to justify your adultery. In contrast to me, you commit the sin of lust on an all too regular basis.”
“Don’t act so high and mighty. It’s not like adultery is a new thing to you.”
“I have to protest. There has never been a moment when I was unfaithful to my calling.”
“Are you sure? I heard different things.” Longhaul’s voice cut the tension in the small room.
“You are out of line, Baron. I shall have your title for this. A note to the pope will suffice. I will send a letter first thing tomorrow!”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Ah yes, the princes of the church exerting their power over the actual rulers of the land. All hidden behind the veil of religion.” Benton piped in.
“How dare you question the authority of a Bishop?” Edmund responded.
“Calm down, little monk. He makes a good point.” Longhaul shouted at Edmund.
“Brother Edmund, I would expect more composure. Remind yourself that you only joined a week ago.” Sheffield said while rising from his chair.
The young monk gave him a dumbfounded look. “How do you know?”
But his question was drowned out by the merchant protesting. “Yes. Silence the young monk. That is what your church is all about.”
“I see. You are a heretic, I assume.” Danger lay in the Bishop’s voice.
“The bishop is right. You do sound like a heretic, good Mr Benton.” Protestants were not welcome in Longhaul’s domain. They were regularly rounded up and summarily executed.
“No, you got this wrong! I’m Catholic. See, here is my rosary.” Benton showed them an old rosary that showed signs of decade-long usage.
“This is all getting ridiculous around here. I shall retreat to my chamber. The pope will hear of every single one of you.” The bishop stormed upstairs and slammed the door behind him. A second later, Edmund got up without a word and went to his room. Longhaul and Benton exchanged dirty looks before their attention returned to the beer before them. I threw a quick glance at Ann and went back to chatting with the patrons at the bar about less loaded topics.
A few moments later, a young woman stumbled in. She had long blonde hair paired with dark brown eyes and was clothed modestly. She showed signs of poverty, judging by her thin stature and dishevelled appearance.
“Good Evening. Do you have a free room, Madam? For one night only.”
“Yes, one room is still free. It would be two silver pieces and comes with a free dinner.”
“That would be nice. Thank you for your kindness.”
“Your room is upstairs. At the top of the stairs, the second door. I would implore you to be silent, though. Bishop Sheffield is in the adjacent room and in a bit of a temper.” While saying that, I handed her the ledger to note her name down. Miss Eversense.
“Ah, the good Bishop. I have heard a lot of things about him from my mother. I will be as quiet as a mouse Madam don’t worry. I will go upstairs immediately. I had my dinner on the road.”
“Then it will be a free breakfast for you, my dear. Good night.”
“Good night Madam.”
***
The following day began as usual. I woke up early to prepare breakfast, again frying eggs and bacon, and as always, Brother Edmund was the first to emerge from his room. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, and he announced his wish to depart soon. He said mockingly “Rome is waiting for me. Bishop Sheffield has shown me that there is a lot that I need to fix.” Let him go to Rome, he might actually change something.
The arrival of Edmund was followed by Longhaul. After a few minutes of small talk, Edmund left for his morning prayer. I prepared a plate for Longhaul. Nothing was out of the ordinary until I heard a heavy thud upstairs. I went up to see if one of the guests had fallen. I knocked on the doors. The merchant and young girl opened their doors a mere slit but assured me everything was alright. The bishop gave no answer. I waited a few minutes and then opened the door to find him lying on the floor. I couldn’t suppress a scream. The guests rushed to my side almost immediately. The bishop apparently hanged himself with his stole, which ripped under his weight.
“He is dead,” Longhaul said behind me. “Hanged himself with his stole.”
“The greatest sin of all! Self-murder.” Brother Edmund made the sign of the cross in front of him, followed by all others present. “We have to get him out of there. Bring him to the cellar and prepare the cremation. I shall contact the diocese.”
Ann interjected. “Shouldn’t we have some respect for him?”
Longhaul sighed. “No respect is to be paid to the self-murderer.”
“I disagree. He was a good man. This is 1631, not 1331. Haven’t we advanced at all?” Ann protested.
“It is the will of the Catholics.” Benton said with a grave face.
“No, Ms Eversense, you shouldn’t look.” I tried to prevent the young woman from seeing the body.
“Oh, my God.” She clasped her hands and fell to the ground. Under her sobbing, she stammered, “I should have knocked. I should have…”
“No, no, my dear. How could you have known what unchristian things were unfolding next door.” I laid my arm around her, trying to provide some comfort.
“I heard someone struggling in the other room yesterday. I thought he might have a nightmare. I could have never imagined.” She continued to cry. I was looking at the others. Their expression was pure horror at the sight of such a mortal sin.
“I just can’t understand why. With his stole?” Ann was in pure disbelief.
“You are right, Ann. Why wouldn’t he use the rope from his bag?” I rose to my feet and went into the room. Everything seemed in its usual place. “I think we are not dealing with a suicide. Come in. All of you!”
“What do you mean, Ms Semton? This was clearly a self-hanging.”
“I must disagree, Milord. Please take a look at the room. Everything is in its usual place.”
“So?”
“Where is the chair that he fell off?”
“Couldn’t he committed his sin by leaping off the bed?” Edmund asked with barely hidden disgust.
Ann’s eyes lit up. “No, they are too far away from the rafter! It is a safety measure, so it can’t drop on the heads of our patrons. We didn’t trust the structural integrity of the building.” At the bewildered look of the guest, she added. “Don’t worry. We have had this place for three years and are quite convinced of its safety… Now.”
“Still, you sleep in a separate house,” Benton remarked.
“Only out of habit. How about a round of beers on the house to wash down the shock?”
The group agreed, and all besides me and Longhaul went downstairs. Longhaul hastily added when the rest turned to leave. “None are to leave the premise. I will personally investigate this matter. Ann, make sure they stay.” He turned to me. “Are you sure that we have a murder on our hands?”
“Yes, I am. The bed and chairs have not been moved.”
“Then, let us conduct interviews. I suggest we start with Ms Eversense, since she heard the attack. I will bring her up.”
Longhaul left the room. I let my gaze wander around the room, looking for anything that might help me identify the murderer. Longhaul returned with Ms Eversense before I could give the room an in-depth investigation.
“Please step in Ms Eversense.”
“Thank you Milord.”
I began in a soft voice. “My dear, you said you heard him struggle?”
Her eyes began to water. “Yes Madam. I heard him gasp and moan in the other room. I didn’t think much of it. Some bad dream or so. I would have never expected him to be murdered.”
“It is not your fault.” Longhaul said with surprising compassion. “Can you remember anything else?”
Eversense thought for a moment. “Yes. I thought it was just a dream. I heard voices in the other room. Two deep male voices, but I couldn’t make out what they said.”
“Did they fight?”
“Maybe, I can’t be sure, Milord.”
“Do you have any more questions Ms Semton?”
“Not right now.”
“Very well. You can leave Ms Eversense.”
She stumbled out of the room, visibly affected by what has transpired the previous night.
“Did you see how scared the poor thing was? Dreadful business.” I shook my head. “Who shall we interview next?”
“First, I have to ask you.” Longhaul drew a deep breath. “Did you see anything during the night?”
I was taken aback. How could he even think I would be involved in something so heinous. “No, Milord. Ann and I retired to bed shortly after the last guests left. We slept until the nail dropped from the candle around an hour before sunrise.”
“My apologises Ms Semton. I had to ask.”
“Milord, forgive me, but I also have to ask. Did you hear anything yesterday night? You had an argument with him in the bar beforehand.”
“Are you accusing me?”
“With the utmost respect. You must have heard him as well.” I said, not breaking eye contact.
“As a matter of fact, I didn’t. I wasn’t in the tavern until two hours before sunrise.”
“That would have still left some time….”
“No, the body is too stiff. Bishop Sheffield was killed more than four hours before sunrise.”
“How can you be sure?”
“If you execute a lot of protestants….”
“I see. Why were you outside the tavern during the night?”
“I was tailing Mr Benton. I suspected him of being an arms smuggler supplying weapons to protestant rebels.”
“Did you see him?”
Longhaul was looking grave. “No, I lost him after an hour or so. It took me three hours to get back to the tavern. He might have killed him as religious revenge, though.”
I was thinking about the said. Then I spotted something on the bishop’s stole. Hairs – blond hairs. “Maybe. If he truly is a protestant. That would explain his comments during the last 24 hours. Also, there are blond hairs on the bishop’s stole. Could I ask you to bring him up? I would continue to examine the room for clues.”
Longhaul agreed to the plan. After all, nobility has a habit of not crawling on all fours sweeping the floor for something unusual. I went through the whole room without finding anything. Only that the bishop’s money had vanished; undoubtedly, the murderer must have taken it.
“Please enter, Mr Benton. We just want to ask you a few questions.” Sounded the voice of Longhaul outside. The door opened.
“I didn’t do it. I wasn’t here last night.” Mr Benton’s voice was shaky.
“Yes, we already know you sneaked out, but what did you do during the night?” I asked.
“I was going for a walk. Is that not allowed?”
“Selling weapons to the protestants certainly isn’t.” The baron boomed at him.
“I would never. How dare you accuse me of treason.”
“So you were just wandering around the woods for hours?” I asked with sarcasm in my voice.
“Yes, it was a beautiful night.”
“It’s March. The nights are quite cold, aren’t they?” Longhaul asked.
“Oh yes, they are. I saw some frost on the grass this morning.”
Longhaul went in for the kill. “It makes more sense that you went out, knowing I would be tailing you. You led me in circles so that I would lose my orientation. After an hour or so, you returned to kill the bishop as an act of religious revenge. Rest assured, your heresy is the least of your problems. For this, you will perish on the wheel.”
The threat of a ruthless execution seemed to open the lips of the merchant. Sweat dripped from his chin on the floor when he answered with a trembling voice. “No, you got this wrong. I didn’t kill the bishop.” A pause set in. “Yes, I am a protestant, and at the time of the murder, I was meeting with local contacts but not to sell weapons. I was delivering them gold as a relief effort. They are starving and out of work due to your prosecution. So I purposefully led you in circles. You got that right, but then I went into the village. I even passed your toll booths; ask your men there.”
There was enough fear in Benton’s voice to convince me of his honesty. I looked closely at Longhaul’s face; he seemed to think the same. Finally, I broke the silence. “Did anyone else leave or sneak around the tavern yesterday night?”
“No. But I saw that Brother Edmund and the Bishop fighting. I think it was about some girl, but I couldn’t hear the whole argument. I saw that Bishop Sheffield was holding a letter, though.”
“Are you certain?”
Longhaul was putting my thoughts into words. “This letter must be connected to the murder. Maybe it had some information on the infidelity of Brother Edmund. Did you find a letter Ms Semton?”
“No. But I will give the room another look.” I started to look through the room again. Meanwhile, Longhaul led Mr Benton out of the room. He told us everything he knew. Deep down, I hoped he would escape while we questioned Edmund. I might slip Ann some instructions to let him leave. This time I was determined to check every inch of the room. So I dropped down on the floor and looked under the bed, in the far corner, nested between the mattress and frame I found the letter. I heard Longhaul and Edmund enter, so I shuffled out from under the bed. I quickly got up from the floor and handed the letter to Longhaul. He opened and read it. After a quick pause he handed it to me.
I know what you have done. You got a peasant girl pregnant and then abandoned her. She committed suicide, and the child had to grow up on the street because of your cowardice. You hid behind your righteousness, condemning adulterers publicly. Your hypocrisy will soon catch up with you. I will find you and make you pay for what you did.
I lowered the letter and looked at Edmund. I was the first to speak. “So Bishop Sheffield found out that you had an affair with a peasant girl and got her pregnant. What happened? Did you kill him because he confronted you?”
The indignation in Edmunds’s voice was almost convincing. “I am a devoted servant of God. I have never seen this letter and certainly never committed adultery.”
“Drop the act. I recognised you the moment you walked in here.” Longhaul said. “You are a son of some minor noble. Of Landtaste if I am correct. I heard of you. The son suddenly joined a monastery and moved far away….”
“Also, a witness saw you fight with the Bishop while he was holding that letter,” I added. It was time to increase the heat.
“Okay. I did commit adultery, and the Bishop knew about that, but I swear I never saw the contents of that letter.”
“Stop lying to us.”
“I am telling the truth. Yes, we were fighting because I had an affair with a married woman. Her husband found out and tried to kill me, so I joined the order to escape with dignity.” Edmund was lowering his pants, revealing a burning on his bottom. “He got me with a branding iron. I couldn’t bear the embarrassment.”
“That is embarrassing. I have to agree.” I muttered.
“Also, as a monk, I wouldn’t use a stole to hang him. They are very fragile. I’m surprised it even lasted that long. I would have chosen the rope from his bag.”
Longhaul was taken aback by this.
“He is making a point, though.” I said to Longhaul, lost in my thoughts. I went over to the bishop to closely examine his attire. When giving the hair a closer look it hit me. I was reminded of an old rumour about Sheffield, an illegitimate child. I picked up one of the hair. It was long. “Eversense did it. The blond hair on the stole fit hers. They are too short to be Bentons!” I gasping to Longhaul, showing him the hair.
“I will bring her up immediately. You can go, Brother Edmund. God is to judge your sin and embarrassment.”
I could hear a commotion downstairs. A minute later, Longhaul brought Ms Eversense up. She was visibly scared.
Longhaul started. “We have reason to believe you killed him.”
“I didn’t. You are wrong.”
“Then why did we find your hair on his stole?”
“It must be a mistake.”
I took over. “I am sure that a long blond hair can only belong to you.”
“Just admit it, and we will ensure the execution will be swift,” Longhaul added.
“I… I… Alright, I killed him. He deserved it.” She cried out.
“You are Sheffield’s daughter? I heard a rumour that he had an illegitimate child from his days as a priest.” I said with compassion.
“Yes, I am! He abandoned my mother in a time of famine and disease. No money, no help, just kicked out into the streets. She tried her best for a few years. After some time, she couldn’t take the scrutiny and shame any more.”
“So she took her own life and left you behind.” I couldn’t hide the sadness in my voice.
Longhaul’s voice mirrored mine. “How did you survive? You were just a child.”
“She brought me to her sister and then hanged herself in some tavern. They found her body the next day. My mother was thrown in some ditch to rot.”
“No burial for Catholics that commit self-murder.” Longhaul said quietly.
“So you tracked down the bishop to take revenge.” I realised.
“I heard that he frequents this tavern. I waited outside in the woods for weeks. Begging on the road until he passed me.” A short emotionless laugh escaped her. “He even gave me a gold coin. The most paternal thing he would ever do in his wretched life. I followed him to the tavern. In the night, I sneaked into the room and smothered him with a pillow.”
“How did you manage to overpower him?” Longhaul inquired in disbelief.
“I saw him pick poppies earlier. I assumed he would take a sleeping draught after dinner. I was right. It was easy once the draught took effect.”
“But why did you make it look like a suicide?” I asked with an empty voice.
Ms Eversense looked at me with a questioning face. “I wanted him to rot just like my mother. That is all he deserved.”
“I will take you to the castle this instance. You are under arrest.” Longhaul was shaken by the confession.
The murder didn’t make a dent in our business. However, once the news that I had helped solve it, even more customers came, hoping that I regal them with every detail of the case. Thankfully I had Ann for that. She swiftly learned every relevant detail and telling the customers all about it. Naturally Eversense was burned at the stake. The Bishop never had to stand for his moral crimes but was denied the right to be buried in the cathedral’s mausoleum. Longhaul still comes by regularly, slightly disappointed that Benton managed to escape in the arrest’s confusion. Edmund left on the same day; his bottom and honour never healed.
[Image Credit : Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash ]
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Marvin Reif
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