“The baron never speaks directly with any of his immediate family,” Anne said.
This was strange news indeed, the prioress thought. She gestured for him to continue.
“Earlier, he had asked that Raoul beg their father to come to him.” Drops of sweat shone on Gamel’s forehead. “At first, I assumed the baron had found compassion for the lad who was suffering so much. Whatever their quarrel, no father would want his son to bear such anguish. I would never…”
“Your conclusion is reasonable,” she replied, keeping her doubts about Herbert’s sympathy unspoken.
Gamel rubbed at his eyes as if trying to rid them of an irritant. “When the young man finished his story, my heart almost ceased beating with his appalling revelation.”
Anne and Eleanor stared at him with dread-filled anticipation.
“Is it not an unnatural father who opens his arms to his child, only to stab him in the heart?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Standing at her brother’s side, Eleanor rued all the lies she had told and must still utter. Some were deliberate falsehoods, others the easy failure to add details. She suspected these omissions of fact were the same as any other deception. Did the purpose ever cleanse the sin?
She shook her head, then glanced at her brother and hoped he did not see how confused and troubled she was. “Surely you have learned something more,” she said and instantly regretted her sharp tone. Knowing Hugh, she realized that he would have told her if he had and did not deserve a rebuke born of no cause but her frustration.
He clenched his fists, then cracked his knuckles.
She winced. “Never do that again in my presence! Such a reminder of the sound when bones and shoulders are set is loathsome.”
The knight stepped back and stared at his sister. “You are no longer the little girl I remember!” He bent and held his hand about knee level. “You have learned the voice of command, my lady.”
Eleanor knew he was trying to defuse the tension between them and was quite willing to allow it. With a forced laugh at his jest, she spun around and stared out of the window. “Oh, Hugh, what is happening here? Can you think of any reason for these deaths? Poor Umfrey!”
“If I did, I would not be standing here like that weak-kneed monk of yours.”
Eleanor hid her curiosity at the remark. Now was not the time to question it, and she chose instead to wait for what else he had to say.
He cleared his throat with a growl. “We may learn something soon. A servant arrived not long ago and asked for Master Gamel and the monk. When Baron Herbert heard of his son’s death, he called them to his chambers. I was not summoned.”
Surprised and perplexed in equal measure, she asked him for more detail.
“Then you knew nothing of this either?”
“After I finished speaking with the physician, I went to the chapel with Sister Anne to pray for Umfrey’s soul. She and I discussed the need to comfort Lady Margaret, then my sub-infirmarian left to wait upon that bereaved mother. I sought you. I have not seen Brother Thomas or Master Gamel since I left him.”
Hugh scowled.
Although the prioress understood her brother’s annoyance at being denied a place in the meeting with Herbert, she had greater hope that the baron might finally cast light on why these murders had occurred. Her plan to force the killer’s hand might have yielded early fruit.
For so many reasons, she hoped the baron was not guilty of these crimes, but, until she knew more, she dared not discount Umfrey’s reported accusation. It had been very difficult to keep her brother ignorant of this son’s survival. Secrecy was one matter, but loyalty was another. Even though Hugh would share her horror at the possibility of filicide, Baron Herbert was his friend. She did not know the full extent of her brother’s devotion to his battlefield commander.
He grunted. “Baron Herbert should have asked for you. On your behalf, I am offended that he chose the company of an ordinary monk over that of an esteemed prioress.”
For a moment, Eleanor considered the tone of those words and concluded his meaning had little to do with concern over the difference in rank between a prioress and one of her religious. “He is a priest. When any mortal requires such a servant of God, there is no affront to my honor.” In silence, she studied her restless sibling. “Has Brother Thomas offended you, Hugh? As his prioress, I must know of any insult.”
He shook his head.
Eleanor’s first suspicion was that her brother knew of Thomas’ former work as a Church spy. If so, he might not wish to speak of it, fearing she was ignorant of the monk’s dual loyalties. He would still be angry at the trickery and might wish to resolve the matter without alerting her to the problem. Despite his protestations, he did think of her as a little girl. She struggled not to smile with affection.
“We all have committed sins,” she said, “but God forgives us when we confess our transgressions. Mortals are then obliged to do the same. Should you know of any recent wrongdoing, however, that may be whispered into my ear.” She hoped her words suggested that she knew of Thomas’ past and had forgiven him.
For a moment, Hugh seemed to mull what she had just said. “He has served you well, my lady, and I know of his kindness when Death danced around my son’s bed that winter I was in Outremer.” He grimaced as if those words had stuck like a fishbone in his throat.
She nodded as another reason for his evident dislike of Thomas occurred to her. This, she hoped, was the true cause, one that could be more easily resolved than perceived disloyalty.
“Are you angry that Richard grew fond of him? If so, chase that from your heart,” she said. “The monk brought comfort to your son during the years you were gone. Now that you have returned, the boy will turn again to you as his father. Give the lad time. The bond of your mutual love is strong despite the long absence.”
Hugh bit his lips and stared up at the ceiling. “You give wise counsel.” He forced a smile. “Now that my son is at court in the service of our king, I see him often enough. Indeed, Richard has little enough time to…” He stopped. “Our father is proud of him,” he hurried to say. “Says he rarely indulges in boyish mischief-or at least is not often caught at it.” This time he grinned with evident pleasure.
Inclined to agree that anything her nephew did was a matter for pride, Eleanor laughed, sharing her brother’s delight and choosing to accept the shift in the discussion away from her much-loved monk.
But memory of recent violence blew a chill breath on their levity, and they quickly grew more somber.
Hugh leaned against the wall and sighed. “I beg forgiveness for my sharp words. I have grown querulous over this delay in discovering Baron Herbert’s need to call us here.”
“The unfortunate deaths give cause enough for postponement.”
“Your charity is a credit to you.”
“You did say he was not a man prone to undue fears or exaggeration.”
“He has been called severe, but he is hardest on himself. Even when suffering a near-mortal fever, he demanded that he be tied to his horse so he might join his men in combat.” He shook his head. “That was one of the few times anything proved stronger than his will. The fever was so fierce it rendered him unconscious, and he was carried back to his bed. After he recovered, his hair dropped out, eyebrows as well, and he never recovered the feeling in one hand. Nonetheless, he still rode into battle. We honored him for his resolve and loved him for his courage.”
“Your testimony to his valor is one reason I did not question his fears that some malign thing had taken residence.”
“A prioress with your reputation would only honor his rank and be a match for any evil he suspected here.” Hugh’s eyes betrayed the love he had for this little sister who had grown into such a formidable woman. “You are much like our aunt at Amesbury,” he said.