Thomas laughed. “Matins, you say? Then you have prayed on horseback while your hounds sang the Office. To find such game when the sun has yet to climb fully above the horizon, you must have been out before dawn!” Although he’d had only brief acquaintance with him, Thomas had quite taken to his prioress’ older brother. Like Prioress Eleanor, Robert was in his early twenties, of short stature, and had gray eyes that sparkled with intelligence and humor. Unlike Prioress Eleanor, he was wiry, muscular, and sported a curly black beard.
“God gave me keen sight in the dark hours. A curse, I am, to the hares in winter,” Robert replied as he walked up to Thomas. Then all brightness faded from his eyes. “How fares my nephew?” he asked, his voice now hoarse with concern.
“All is well. Sister Anne says that God will spare the child. The crisis has passed, and the boy sleeps well.”
Robert spun around. “Elwyn,” he shouted to a portly man with the red face of one who spends much time sampling his own sauces. “Make sure the best portion of that boar is saved for my nephew.” He gestured at Thomas. “Our good brother tells me Richard is recovering!” When Robert turned back to the monk, his smile was broad and joyous. “God be praised!”
“And Sister Anne. I’ve never known a more skilled hand in the healing arts.” Thomas was about to say more when he noticed a servant tossing aside a branch that had been used to transport the boar. “I need that limb,” he cried out, then turned back to Robert as the man brought him the bough. “Between the rich meat of a lusty boar and a stick sturdy enough for me to make your nephew a hobbyhorse for riding through the passageways at Wynethorpe, I do believe he will be both a healthy and a happy boy.”
“You are a kind man to think of that.” Robert slapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Although we may live to regret your gift. Richard will destroy any peace with his valiant joustings at such imaginary foes as his grandfather’s shadow or my cloak. If you are so fortunate, he may even deem you a good replacement for the Welsh dragon. Your red hair might warrant such a conclusion.” Robert’s look was affectionate, but his gaze was distant. “Despite his youth, he has all the markings of his crusader father.”
“Have you word of your elder brother?”
“Hugh may love his family with a whole heart, but he is not known for the diligence with which he sends us messages. We have heard that he is in good health, however, from those to whom he has given generously-returning soldiers, motley friars, and assorted beggars. We are most fortunate that they remember his kindness well and do bring us word of him. Nonetheless, he will not return home until the Lord Edward comes back to England.”
Thomas wondered in silence about Robert’s future when his elder brother did return. On the way from Tyndal, Prioress Eleanor told him that her father had put this second son in charge of the Wynethorpe lands in Hugh’s absence. Robert had shown both inclination and even greater talent for the work, if a loving sister could be considered a fair judge. With the heir’s return, however, Thomas knew well that a younger son must find another way to earn his meat.
As if he had read the monk’s thoughts, Robert continued. “By the time he does come home, our lord father will have me married off to the Lady Juliana of Lavenham. She comes with enough lands to make me quite rich with her dowry, and those lands are close enough to my father’s that I may continue to watch over his as well until Hugh is ready to choose his own steward.” He clasped Thomas by the shoulder and shook him affectionately. “Fear not! I am not destined to become your new prior at Tyndal. I’d rather study Walter of Henley’s Husbandry than the Venerable Bede’s instructive writings on abbots and saints. Unlike you, neither Hugh nor I is inclined to a contemplative vocation, good monk. A sister already encloistered provides intercession with God and prayers enough on behalf of this family and its sins!”
Thomas smiled at Robert’s assumption that he had entered a cloistered life prompted by any calling whatsoever, but there was no reason to shatter the man’s illusion. “You are betrothed then?”
“Almost as we speak, or so I believe. The lady’s father and Henry, her eldest brother, came to meet with my father on the contract not long after you, my sister, and her sub-infirmarian arrived to care for my nephew. The Lady Juliana accompanied them for a swift courtship and as companion to her father’s wife. Have you not seen the family or passed them in the hall outside your quarters?”
Thomas shook his head.
“How could you not? Lady Juliana has been put in Hugh’s empty chambers while her father and his wife have taken my quarters near the stairs. They are near enough to the room you share with our priest. Henry you might not have seen for he and I rest, if such is possible, in the barracks. There is no other accommodation for us over the dining hall.”
“At the hours I have walked the halls, the wiser among the living are still in bed and the spirits of the dead have long since returned to Hell. Sister Anne, our prioress, and I have all been with Richard day and night, taking turns with his care until the fever broke. Even our meals were taken in his sick room. Most nights I have watched over the boy to allow the women to sleep.”
Robert looked up at the position of the indistinct sun hiding in the graying sky, then motioned toward the great hall. “You will finally meet your fellow guests at today’s dinner, for it appears to be within a couple of hours of noon.”
Thomas nodded. Then, with a less than monkish grin, he returned to his previous subject: “Is she pleasing to you, your lady?”
Robert shrugged. “She will probably please me as much as I do her. She was an agreeable enough child, as I remember from years ago, but I have seen little of her in recent times.” He hesitated. His eyes narrowed. “I know her two brothers better. I believe she favors her younger brother, in which case we will suit each other well enough. The eldest is a sour, petty-minded man. Henry has done nothing but quarrel with my father over which family shall give what to this happy union.”
Thomas blinked at the barely concealed resentment in Robert’s voice. Before he could question further, both men heard the clatter of more horses’ hooves coming across the wooden bridge and turned toward the dark archway of the entrance gate.
“I do believe that the Lavenham family has just returned from their morning ride,” Robert said, raising his hand in greeting to the lead horseman. Then his countenance hardened. “Yet I fear their ride was not a pleasant one.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper as he gestured toward the arriving party. “That horse bears a corpse.”
Chapter Two
The guttering candle flame competed half-heartedly with dull morning light to chase the shadows from the room. A small, young nun sat on a stool near a large bed, rubbed her hand across her eyes, and began another story.
“Once upon a time, in a sweet land not much different from our own, there lived a happy people, strong-limbed and handsome, who were ruled by a brave and noble king. This king was blessed with a beautiful, loyal wife, and the couple had a son whose name was Richard. Richard was a fine lad, fair-haired and blue-eyed, and he longed to prove he had the courage to become a knight. He had begged his father to take him on crusade to the Holy Land, but his father insisted he was still too young for battle and must stay at home with his mother, the queen. ‘You must protect her and her ladies from any and all dangers,’ he told the boy. Indeed, the king believed that no peril would threaten his beloved land while he was reclaiming Jerusalem, but he had no sooner ridden away with his army than there appeared at the castle gate, a man dressed in black armor…”
Eleanor Wynethorpe, prioress of Tyndal in the woman-ruled Order of Fontevraud, stopped in mid-tale. The flame from a deeply furrowed candle flickered more weakly now as shadows retreated into the crevices of the rough stone walls in the gray dawn. She looked toward the tall, older nun standing on the other side of the bed and frowned with worry. Only her eyes asked a frightened question in the silence of the room.