Umfrey was now staring at the ceiling, his lips moving in silent conversation with some invisible entity.
Thomas hoped it was God.
Why had the baron refused any contact with his wife and sons? Why was he reportedly seen only at night? Despite taking the cross, Herbert could have subsequently committed an unspeakable sin. As punishment, God might have inflicted his sons with wild frenzy so they lost all reason, the one drowning despite his fear of the sea and the other believing he could fly. Thomas had his doubts about this but concluded that the need for healers of souls was clearer than why the baron had also called for medical help.
Sin was always the most common worry. Rampant plagues, particularly confined to one family, were infrequent. The secular healers might have been requested for the baron himself, but if Herbert had suffered a grievous wound in Outremer, he would have felt no shame in admitting to it. It would have been suffered in God’s service.
Shaking his head, the monk decided that the baron must fear that some illness, requiring the most knowledgeable physicians, had infected his family. In any event, Thomas could see no rational answer to what was happening. He knew too little.
“Brother?”
“Aye.”
“Although I do not know how he did it, Satan has killed two of my brothers.” Umfrey’s voice trembled. “And I believe the Evil One lurks just outside that door, waiting to murder me next.” He reached out a hand in supplication. “Save me! I do not want to die. I do not want to spend eternity in Hell.” Leaning his head back against the altar, he gazed at the ceiling and began to wail. The despair in his choking sobs was unbearable.
“I promise that I shall seek out this evil,” Thomas replied. “There are three of us here who serve God, one of whom is Prioress Eleanor. Her service to His justice has gained enough respect that even the Devil must surely quail when he sees her.” Then the monk stepped closer to the cowering man, put his hands on his shoulders and urged him to pray.
By the time Thomas left, Umfrey had slunk back into the gloom surrounding the altar. When the monk shut the door to the chapel, he looked down the narrow, dark corridor and shivered.
“I hope I have not made a promise that is impossible to keep,” he whispered and hurried back through the changing shadows to his chambers.
Chapter Seven
Supper that evening was a dreary affair. None of the baron’s family joined their guests in the Great Hall, although the servants were attentive and the kitchen had provided ample fare for all who cared to sit down at table.
Master Gamel showed some appetite. No one else did. Sir Hugh picked at the little he had placed on his trencher. Those under monastic rule ate sparingly of the rich sauces and dripping slabs of roasted boar. More accustomed to an austere diet of fish, aged fowl and many vegetables, they were overwhelmed by this secular bounty. Under different circumstances, they might have found pleasure in such a rare feast, but Death blunted it.
Glancing at her fellow religious, Eleanor concluded that their feigned attention to the generous meal had long ago exceeded the requirements of expected courtesy. She rose, and they followed with evident relief. Even Sir Hugh took advantage of the chance to escape, and Master Gamel swallowed one more mouthful of red wine before abandoning his soaked trencher. With a courteous bow to his table companions, he left to seek his bed.
While the servants removed the food and plate, stripped the linen, and began folding the trestle tables against the wall, Eleanor walked to the fireplace. At least the poor will benefit from our meager appetites, she thought, convinced that the kitchen would have an abundance, even after the servants ate, to hand out the next morning for charity.
Sister Anne joined her and asked if the prioress wished to come to the chapel. Eleanor knew she should accompany the nun and Brother Thomas, but the time was apt to seek more details from her brother about Baron Herbert’s family. She promised to join the pair later.
Looking around for Hugh, she found him leaning against a window in the corridor just outside the hall. He stared down at the bailey, his expression indicative of a mood no brighter than the coming long night. As Eleanor approached, he turned to greet her with a distracted smile. It was manifestly contrived.
She told him her concerns and pretended not to notice his darkened spirit.
“I am as ignorant as you about the reason for these tragedies. Even though this current one should have added to his urgency, Baron Herbert has not yet chosen to summon me.” His tone was rough with impatience. “Because his missive spoke of great need, I endangered your health, that of your sub-infirmarian and a noted physician by urging this perilous winter journey. Forgive me for begging you to join me in this folly.” He threw up his hands in disgust.
“My decision was freely made, as was my choice to bring Brother Thomas, but I do wonder why you asked for Sister Anne if you intended to bring a physician.” That her brother had omitted mentioning the monk struck her as odd. She gave him a questioning look. “I might have chosen another nun to accompany me for modesty’s sake and left her to care for the dying.”
He looked sheepish. “I do owe you an explanation and must add a plea for forgiveness. Even now I think of you as my young sister, a child whom I must guide and protect.”
She laughed. “Since I remain much shorter than most women, you are easily forgiven for considering me your little sister.”
His grin was instant, then he grew pensive. “Baron Herbert is a man of strong opinions. Having little confidence in those not trained at a university, he asked for a physician of high repute. He considers apothecaries, and any woman amongst them, as mere grinders of powders and mixers of strange potions. They are lesser talents to him.”
“Then why bring Sister Anne at all?”
“Surely you know that many at court praise her skill as God’s gift. Although Master Gamel is a learned man, I believed she might be the better healer, but the baron would never have accepted her judgement on any illness. Her observations and conclusions might be invaluable but accepted by the baron only if spoken with the tongue of a physician.”
“I wonder that you imagined this man of medicine would be agreeable to the deception. Even if he were willing to discuss matters with Sister Anne, his own opinions must take precedence with him.”
“Master Gamel is a scholar, one whom I have learned to respect. He, too, has heard of your sub-infirmarian’s reputation and expressed eagerness to meet her.” He fell silent and looked back to the window.
Tucking her hands into her sleeves for warmth, Eleanor decided to drop the subject. “Then feel no more guilt over bringing any of us here, my brother. God often guides us into inexplicable situations only to reveal His purpose later.” Even if Hugh’s handling of this situation turned out to be misguided, his intent was founded in love and charity. “Should this journey not prove instructive for our souls,” she continued with a gentle smile, “I shall find joy enough spending time with a brother I have not seen in far too long.”
With evident affection, Hugh put a hand over his heart as he looked back at her. “Such words are like the balm of honey to your unworthy kinsman, my lady.”
Eleanor was about to reply when she heard footsteps. Bending to look around her brother, she stared down the shadowy corridor.
Hugh spun around.
A tall man greeted the pair with a deep bow. “You would be justified in feeling anger over how this family has ignored your arrival,” he said. “On behalf of Baron Herbert, I wish to apologize for our lack of hospitality and beg your forgiveness. The circumstances may be unusual, but we still owe our invited guests courtesy.”