The Champion

“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.”