“I would cheerfully promise all, brother,” Fulke replied, his expression suddenly turned grave, “except for the last. Remember that we have a new king. If he deems it in his interest, he may command me to get involved.”
Equally somber, Ralf nodded. “Then let us hope he does so in ways that are honorable.”
“He is God’s anointed. To do other than obey him is treason.”
The younger brother said nothing.
Fulke waited
Ralf folded his arms.
Fulke shook his head and mounted his long-patient steed.
***
Father Eliduc savored the fear he had seen in Prioress Eleanor’s eyes. Although he had no proof that she lusted after Brother Thomas, he knew the frailties of men and women well enough to guess it. And from her reaction to his carefully phrased remark, he was certain his assumption was correct and that she knew he had guessed her secret.
It was always good to leave those whom you had cause to respect with the knowledge that you were capable of winning all battles against them. Although he had outwitted her this time, he knew Prioress Eleanor was possessed of a mind and will made of far finer steel than those of most men. To most she was already a formidable opponent; for him, she had the potential to grow into one. He had meant what he said when he expressed hope they would meet again. After all, struggling only against the unworthy dulled the sharpness of one’s own wit.
As he watched the servants finish the packing of last items, he grew content. Soon they would be traveling back to court, and he was eager to return to other work on his lord’s behalf. This time, he was bringing a present with him, one he knew would surely please.
Simon was a far better prospect than the earl’s by-blow he had rescued from prison. Although Brother Thomas had served well in his way, this lad had sharp passion where the monk was possessed of too tender a heart.
Men with those womanish inclinations were dangerous when blind resolve was needed to further sacred causes. With a king like Edward, a far more forceful man than his father, the Church might soon have a mightier struggle over dominion. Such a holy war would require unblinking obedience in those who served the Church. Simon would make a fine zealot.
Thus Eliduc was pleased to release the monk Thomas from further onerous duty, and, in so doing, he had learned of a useful weakness in the Prioress of Tyndal. All that, and knowing the lands from Baron Otes would pass safely to the hands of his lord, made the priest a very happy man.
He walked over to Simon.
The lad was gazing heavenward with an ardent look that would surely delight even the desert fathers.
“Mount your horse, my son. We leave in a short while.”
“I shall always remember that I found God’s purpose for me here,” he replied.
“And since you will also never forget your vow to Him that you shall serve as directed,” Eliduc whispered in Simon’s ear, “then the secret of your unfortunate contacts with rebellious factions need never be mentioned to any mortal.”
Simon seemed not to have heard him speak. The young man looked like a crusader going into battle, one whose thoughts were focused solely on slaughtering the enemy.
Chapter Thirty-six
Eleanor stood at the window of her chambers and watched the dust clouds, raised by the departing horsemen, settle. Never had she been so grateful to see men leave as she was these. They had brought violence to her priory and carried the plague of discord as well, worldly contagions that were difficult to cure once the infection was established.
His soul bound for Hell, Kenard’s corpse had been tossed into a shallow pit in unconsecrated earth next to Brother Simeon’s grave. No one would ever know how he had managed to lure Otes away from priory grounds or why he had chosen to kill him below the hermitage. Doubting that the servant had known about Brother Thomas, the prioress suspected the man had simply picked the spot because it was remote and blood would not be shed on God’s land. Even though Kenard had committed self-murder within Tyndal’s walls, an act some would call sacrilege, Eleanor did wonder if he had done so to be closer to God and thus to let Him know his soul longed to be good in spite of his violent acts.
“My lady?”
Willing enough to set heavy thoughts aside, the prioress immediately turned to acknowledge Gytha standing at the door.
“As you requested, Prior Andrew has ended his solitary penance and awaits your command. There is ale, cheese, and bread on the table. Shall I remain outside the door in case you need me?”
Eleanor nodded and walked into her public room.
A hollow-cheeked Prior Andrew entered. When he met her eyes, he fell awkwardly to his knees.
Gytha hurried out and closed the door behind her, leaving but a modest inch open.
Rarely did the prioress require complete privacy in her conversations with either nun or monk. This time she did. The opening in the door satisfied the letter of propriety’s law. Although she trusted her maid’s discretion and silence, the content of this discussion was one with which Eleanor did not want to burden anyone else. Her decision with respect to her prior, as well as all the errors he had committed, ought to remain between the two of them alone.
“Rise, Prior Andrew,” she said and gestured for him to be seated near the food and drink.
“I am not worthy of this kindness,” he whispered, looking at the bounty on the table.
“The queen’s emissaries have left,” she responded. “Perhaps you have not learned this. Baron Otes was killed by Lady Avelina’s servant, a man who had a long-standing grudge against the baron. Later, he committed self-murder. Unfortunately, the lady herself, although innocent of blame, died as a result of the shock this news dealt her. Her son, Simon, has decided to take vows.” More detail than this, she concluded, he had no need to know.
“And through all I was unable to give you the support and service that the Order and my vows demand. I am a foolish and a wicked man.”
“Since you were locked away in a windowless room, as a penance you agreed to serve, there could be no doubt you were innocent of the second death, and, for that reason, most likely of the first as well. Yet, if the Lady Avelina had not been so willing to tell me the reason for the baron’s murder, you might have remained a suspect.”
“You were wise to anticipate how evil works and shut me safely away, my lady. Indeed, I did use the time to pray over my grievous sins, but I am most guilty of adding to the priory’s troubles with my own actions. I deserve no mercy and beg none.”
“Your only error was in not telling me the entire story of your brother and the argument with the baron. Your reasons for that failure were not founded in evil, and I believe you wanted to protect me from worldly horrors as honorable men are wont to do with women.” She walked over to the table and served him the ale with her own hands. “Nonetheless, I fear that Satan often thwarts the efforts of good men.” Turning to the window, she stared out at the bright sunlight bathing the priory grounds. “And so we frail women have learned to keep, as it were, cloaks of chain mail close to hand with which to arm ourselves on such occasions.”
Bowing his head, he expressed sorrow that this had been necessary, then asked, “When I surrender my position as prior, my lady, how may I best serve you?”
“Have you given thought to the ways in which you might do so?” She kept her back to him and her voice even.
He did not reply for a long time.
She kept her counsel and said nothing.
“I was a good porter, my lady.”
Noting the rasp in his voice, Eleanor wondered if he was weeping, but she did not turn around, preferring to allow him a man’s pride. “That you were,” she replied.