“Nay, brother, wonder not,” Eleanor said. “You could have done nothing to prevent his death. Of that I can assure you. Sister Anne has said that Sir Geoffrey was so agitated when he confessed his guilt that his wound might have reopened, but the bleeding would have been slow. None of us could have noticed it until it was too late and, when my father thought Sir Geoffrey was falling asleep, he may have been slipping into God’s hands.”
Eleanor turned to the two grieving women. “God’s many mercies are often mysterious. We all heard Sir Geoffrey say he wanted no part of the hangman. Perhaps God answered his prayer. His soul would have been at peace with God so soon after confession, and God must have been at peace with Sir Geoffrey to have granted him such a kind death.”
Thomas drained his cup. The prioress poured him another.
“Be at peace too, brother,” Eleanor said. “Thanks to you, Sir Geoffrey died with a cleansed soul and will be buried in consecrated ground, which would not have been possible had he died at his own hand.” Then she reached over and lightly touched his arm. “Sister Anne might need your help with Father Anselm. And with our mutual nephew. You may go to them now, if you would.”
Thomas continued to stare into his empty cup, then started as her words registered. He looked up at Eleanor. He could feel a modest heat flood across his face. With some surprise, he noted that his prioress’ face was also flushed.
“Yes, brother, I did hear that I have gained one more brother and one more sister than were kin to me before this winter. Sister Anne has told me that Richard calls you Uncle and she has been dubbed Aunt.”
“I did not encourage…” he began.
“Come now, brother! You know Richard. He needed no enticing but had good reason of his own for taking you both into this family. I do honor his decision. With the taking of our vows, we three have always been kin in God, but after all we have been through together since my coming to the priory, I believe we may claim a closer mortal relationship as well.”
“My lady, you are kind…”
Eleanor waved her hand at him. “Go and see to the sick, brother. I will stay with the Lady Isabelle and the Lady Juliana.”
***
As the door closed behind the priest, Eleanor shut her eyes so tightly they hurt, her body once more begging for a far closer bonding with the monk than that of brother and sister. Then, taking a deep breath, she faced the two women. “I share your grief over the loss of Sir Geoffrey, a good and honorable man who saved my own father’s life.”
“He was that, my lady, as well as a kind father to me,” Juliana said. She tried to move but found it difficult to pry herself from Isabelle’s grasp.
“Nay, Juliana, stay close to me.” Isabelle looked up at her stepdaughter, revealing as she did a face ashen with fatigue and eyes red from so many tears. “Now that your father is dead, you cannot go to Tyndal. Surely you see that.”
Juliana turned her head away from Isabelle and frowned, but Eleanor saw pain in the look, not anger.
Isabelle fumbled at her stepdaughter’s hands. “You can pray all you like in the chapel at Lavenham. There is no need for a more distant cloistering.” The corners of her mouth turned vaguely upward, but the smile was feeble. “You must stay with me. Think of how much I need your comfort and companionship now. My oldest friend. My dearest sister.” She pulled Juliana’s hands to her breast and looked at Eleanor. “Sir Geoffrey may have murdered Henry, but he was a good husband to me as he was a good father to Juliana. I shall not marry another but will remain a widow for the rest of my days.” She reached out to touch Juliana’s face. “Hear me, my sweet friend, for I share your desire to remain unmarried! I swear to take mantle and ring in front of the bishop with a vow of chastity for the remainder of my life. Thus you need not marry either, don’t you see? You can stay and give me consolation. We can give each other succor in our prayers, two sisters bound in grief.” Isabelle tugged at Juliana’s robe and laughed, but the sound held little mirth.
As gently as she could, Juliana pushed her hands away, walked to Eleanor and knelt in front of her. “I still beg admission to Tyndal as an anchoress, my lady,” she said, her voice muted but her words firmly spoken.
“No!” Isabelle screamed. “You cannot do this. There is no need!”
“Hush, Isabelle,” Juliana said.
Isabelle threw herself down on the rush-covered floor and crawled to the kneeling woman. She wrapped her arms around her stepdaughter’s legs and pressed her head into the back of Juliana’s thighs. “Don’t you see that God has answered both our prayers?” Her voice was muffled and hoarse. “When I married your father, I knew he was an old man and must soon die. His death now, however, is surely a sign from God! As a widow, I have enough income from my lands for both of us to live in peace and comfort. George will not force you to marry Robert nor anyone you do not fancy. God surely means for the two of us to live, as we have…”
Tears began to flow down Juliana’s cheeks. “It is you who does not understand, Isabelle. I do not want to share a life with you. My calling to become an anchoress is a true one.”
“You cannot leave me! I will not be left alone again!” As Isabelle struggled to her knees, she grabbed the front of her robe, ripping the fabric of her dress from neck to waist and clawing deep ridges into her chest. Blood quickly filled the wounds and flowed down her body in crooked rivulets.
Eleanor and Juliana stared at her in shock.
“See how you have slashed my heart!” the widow screamed as she smeared the blood across her breasts. “You say that I am the one who does not understand, but you are the one who is blind! You have lost one mother to the tomb, but God has torn two mothers from my arms. Two! Then He cut the sweet babe from my womb, a child who might have had my mother’s eyes to look on me again with love. Indeed, God has stolen from me everything that I have dearly loved. Now, surely, He can leave me one sister for warm and loving comfort?”
Juliana paled, then jumped to her feet and stepped away from the bleeding woman.
Isabelle stared at her stepdaughter with mute despair. Then she began tearing at her own face.
Eleanor rushed forward and grabbed her hands as the woman tried to claw her eyes. “Juliana,” she cried as she wrestled with Isabelle. “Bring Sister Anne. Quickly!”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Eleanor sat in silence, unable to form thoughts. The memory of the writhing, screaming widow flooded all words from her mind. Perhaps it had taken only a short while to restrain Isabelle so Sister Anne could force a drink of sleep-inducing poppy juice down her throat, but it had seemed to take forever.
“I pity her, my lady. Few among us have been faced as often as she with the choice between two equally evil paths and no other.”
Eleanor looked at Juliana, but she was still seeing the whimpering Isabelle with her exposed flesh and raw soul bleeding from more wounds than she could count. She had felt inadequate to deal with such pain and knew how thoroughly she had failed in comforting the woman. Perhaps Isabelle had been right about her. Perhaps she had fled from the world because she was unable to face its harshest realities. “Aye,” she said wearily. “She has suffered much.”
“I knew of the rape.” Juliana’s eyes were moist with unwept tears.
“As did I, but only after your brother’s murder.”
“She told me that she was pregnant by Henry.”
“And that she told me as well.”
Despite the chill air, drops of sweat began to glisten on Juliana’s forehead. “It was then she told me she would marry my father, not my brother.”
“A sin to have intercourse with both son and father, however unwilling her sexual act with the former. Even if God were to forgive that, man’s law would still find any marriage with your father invalid as a consequence of the rape.” Eleanor inwardly cringed at the sound of her own voice. Her words were so cold, so pale, against the bloody backdrop of Isabelle’s searing agony. “How did you reply to what she told you?”