The one comfort was that Lady Eleanor had proven to be far less a trouble than Frevisse had feared. When she came just after Easter, she had brought only Margrete, very few of her household furnishings, and just two fluffy, blessedly well-behaved small dogs. Against all Frevisse’s expectations, she had settled gently into her place in the priory. She had even proven to be someone pleasant to talk with sometimes, so that now, with their ways lying the same way around the cloister walk, they went on together, neither of them hurried, Margrete following behind them, as Lady Eleanor said, “None went none so well, did it?”
Frevisse held herself to only “No,” but knew her voice’s edge gave away a great deal of what she did not say.
“The pity of it,” Lady Eleanor said, “is that Alys’ heart is in it. It’s her mind that’s not.”
Frevisse forbore to say what she thought of Domina Alys’ mind. They reached the corner of the cloister walk where they would part. Lady Eleanor’s room lay farther along while Frevisse would go by way of the shadowed passageway that led to the cloister’s outer door, beyond which normally no nun should go without especial permission and cause. But by St. Benedict’s Rule, every Benedictine house had to provide shelter and food for travelers, receiving even the poorest as guests and seeing to their needs. Frevisse, as hosteler of St. Frideswide’s, had the duty of overseeing that all of that was done, with the two guest halls that flanked the gateway to the outer yard in her charge, and she went and came from the cloister as her duties necessitated. She knew Domina Alys had made her hosteler for the sake of having her out of the cloister as much as might be, but she did not care. Better that than being cellarer and needing to deal daily and directly with Domina Alys over all the nunnery’s everyday needs, the way Dame Juliana had to.
Unfortunately, through the past two years, most of the priory’s guests were Godfreys, mostly come to see Domina Alys or to visit with Lady Eleanor or both, but always to enjoy the nunnery’s hospitality at little or no cost to themselves except in the way of such gifts as they might choose to bring. Admittedly, some had been untowardly generous, especially Lady Eleanor’s eldest son when he came at midsummer to see how his mother did, but Domina Alys too often invited whoever was visiting to spend their evenings in her parlor with her, for wine and for talk and laughter that could sometimes be heard across the cloister to the nuns’ dormitory, where lately listening seemed to be too often taking the place of sleeping.
Worse, whichever nuns were currently highest in their prioress’s favor were sometimes invited to share the evening’s merriment, and their open delight and the tidbits of talk they gave out afterward had set up a rivalry among too many of them to stay in Domina Alys’ good grace, to better their chance of being chosen. Only Dame Claire, Dame Perpetua, Sister Thomasine, and Frevisse were still excluded and were a little scorned by the others for it, though Sister Thomasine was too lost in her duties and her prayers to notice. Frevisse doubted she was more than distantly aware of even the builders’ noise, let alone how Domina Alys spent her evenings or the present intrusion of her cousin Sir Reynold and his men.
Through the past half year Sir Reynold had come more and more frequently, usually with only a few men and servants and usually for no more than a few days at a time, but two weeks’ end ago, with no word sent ahead, he had ridden in with half a score of his knights and squires, and their servants for good measure, and so far had given no sign of when he meant to leave. It left scant room in the guest halls for anyone else who might chance to come, even casual travelers for a single night, and stores that should have served through Christmastide at very least were being used up far too quickly.
This morning, as they sometimes did, Sir Reynold and his men had ridden out during Tierce’s prayers, with laughter and shouting and the clatter of their horses’ hooves on the cobbles of the yard, and though they would be back, Frevisse had taken the chance to have the disorder made by too many men living idle too many days cleared and cleaned before their return. She was going now to see if everything had been done as she had ordered, with the hope she would be back inside the cloister before they rode in. The less she had to see of Sir Reynold or any of his men, the better she was pleased.
Because there was no use in complaining, she had said nothing outside of chapter meeting of what was happening, but as she and Lady Eleanor paused together Lady Eleanor asked, “How much trouble have my nephew and his men made for you?”
Frevisse tried to answer lightly, as if there were no need to take much heed, “Enough.”
Quietly smiling-she had known her nephew Sir Reynold far longer than Frevisse had had the misfortune to-Lady Eleanor said, “If I were you, I’d see to there being a sleeping potion in his ale and all his men’s at supper every night. And mornings, too, come to that, until they grow so bored with being here they leave.”
“It would be a comfort if we had some notion of when they were going to go,” Frevisse said, and did not try to hide how much she meant it.
Lady Eleanor nodded. “I know. The only comfort I can offer, my dear, is that nothing goes on forever.” Her smile deepened, warm with sympathy as she added, “It only seems to, sometimes.”
Frevisse smiled back, agreeing there was comfort in perspective-not necessarily the comfort she wanted, but comfort nonetheless.
They parted, Lady Eleanor away to her room, Frevisse along the short length of the chill, shadowed passageway to the heavy outer door. Made of two thicknesses of wood, it was kept barred at night but during the day was only shut on the latch, and though according to the Rule, someone was supposed to watch at it all the day and through the night, St. Frideswide’s was too small for that to be worth the while. Someone was always near to hear if anyone came knocking, and with the inner yard and its gateway and then the outer yard with its clutter of buildings and workers to notice and question the coming of any stranger, and finally the gateway to the road all lying between the cloister door and the outer world, with the other way into the inner yard only through the busy kitchen yard and a small side gate, no one unwanted was likely to come so far as the cloister door unnoticed.
Some of Sir Reynold’s servants were passing the afternoon’s time at ease in the courtyard between the cloister and guest halls, stretched out on the steps up to the new guest hall or gathered around the well where the sunlight was presently warmest. Frevisse crossed to the older of the two guest halls without seeming to heed them, her head bowed enough to swing her veil forward to hide her face on either side, showing she was willing to ignore them if they would return the courtesy by ignoring her and they did.
Knowing she was hosteler only to keep her out of Domina Alys’ way did not give her any leave to slack her duties; nor did it mean she had any right to draw her work out beyond necessity. She went about what needed seeing to now as quickly as care made possible, pleased to find that the guest-hall servants had managed to put more to rights than she had hoped but finding, now that she had chance to check more carefully the guest-hall stores, that even more had been eaten and drunk away than she had guessed.
When Frevisse spoke of it to Ela, head of the guesthall servants, while poking at the few remaining bundles of onions hanging from the storeroom ceiling to be sure there was no rot, Ela said, “There was talk they’d bring something back with them today, like they’ve done those other two times. Nothing clear, mind you, so I’ll not be surprised if nothing comes of it, but that’s what some of them were saying, because what we have isn’t good enough for them, that’s why. They’re wanting better.”