But Anne had not noticed her reaction. A puzzled expression on her face, she was watching Sir Leonel depart.
Chapter Eleven
The morning winter light was weak as if the sun cared little about rising that day, even to cast warmth on the entombment of a baron’s son.
Thomas walked back from the grave, head bowed and eyes moist. The burial had been ill-attended. Since there was no other priest here, Thomas had offered to perform the rites. He may never have met the young man, but he grieved that so few cared about his death. Even the father had not come to see his son returned to the earth.
“Brother Thomas!”
The monk stopped and looked over his shoulder.
The physician hurried toward him, cheeks bright with exertion and breath white in the frosty air.
Thomas raised a hand in perfunctory greeting. In his present mood, he did not wish the company but smiled as if he welcomed it. At least Master Gamel had been at the graveside, although there was no reason for him to come. The monk appreciated the kindness, a quality he increasingly suspected was part of the man’s nature.
“It was a sad event, Brother.” Gamel was puffing when he reached the monk’s side. “His mother was dry-eyed and fled early. Neither his father nor his younger brother, Umfrey, appeared. Only Raoul and Sir Leonel remained to join you in prayer for the man’s soul. The latter at least shed a tear.” He shook his head. “When my beloved wife died, some said I could not possibly weep more than I did at her death bed, yet I lamented over her grave so long that my son had to drag me from it.” He looked up at Thomas, his eyes suggesting embarrassment over revealing such emotion. “A father would surely feel no less grief at a son’s death.”
“Sorrow wears many disguises. The Lady Margaret may have wept herself dry of tears. As for Umfrey, he hides in the family chapel to escape demons and fears for his own life.”
“And what news of the father?” The question was brusque.
“Sir Hugh met with him last night, and Baron Herbert sent word that he wished to have this son buried before he met with us. Prioress Eleanor conveyed the news to me after prayer today and confirmed that was his only message.”
Gamel looked confused. “A reasonable request from a grieving father, yet he was not here to say a farewell to his boy this morning?”
“I must assume good cause.”
“I cannot be as charitable, Brother.” These words were sharply spoken. “I would feel differently had the baron come to watch his son’s corpse laid in the ground. His actions suggest no grief at all, and now I begin to suspect little need for our presence. A patient does not urgently call a physician to his side, only to leave him waiting outside the chamber door.”
The monk agreed but said nothing. Adding fuel to Gamel’s vexation would serve no purpose, and, until they learned what troubled the baron so profoundly, tolerance was better advised. He nodded with appropriate solemnity, hoping his silence suggested the need for forbearance.
In the distance, a sea bird shrieked, the cry only adding to the present gloom.
Thomas did not dare speak of what he had heard. Whatever the baron’s specific reasons for summoning them, there was cause enough for concern. A priest may have been murdered, and now two sons were dead, the circumstances unusual and the deaths in rapid succession. As for Baron Herbert’s lack of overt grief, Thomas refused to conclude anything. He had never met the man.
“Forgive me, Brother. My words were callous. I have little cause for complaint. The delay is such a minor thing, compared to this tragedy.” Gamel bowed his head with regret.
“You left many behind in London who still have need of your skills. Some impatience to return is understandable.” Thomas chose to be gentle. Mortals often inflated themselves with self-importance; few admitted when they did so for petty reasons. Gamel had shown a rare humility.
“My son is skilled enough to take my place.” He brightened. “I am proud of the lad, although I take care not to praise him too highly. When I was his age, I thought I knew everything there was to know. Now I fear I know very little indeed.” His eyelids drooped with sadness. “Not only did I fail to keep Death from wresting my cherished wife from my arms, I was also unsuccessful in persuading the dark creature to take my soul as well.”
Growing pensive, the monk looked around. This was the hour when most daily labor had begun, yet all activity was muffled as if any boisterous din would offend the dead. Blacksmiths muted their hammering. The laundry maids whispered. Even the cattle lowed softly. In grief, this physician wept while Baron Herbert refused to watch his son’s body consigned to the earth. Gervase’s mother railed against Heaven. He himself had never found a way to lament over the death of his own father. Who dares to measure the depth of anyone else’s mourning?
Thomas turned back to Master Gamel and said, “Sometimes God’s purpose differs from any mortal’s wish. When this is the case, we shall fail despite the skills we possess. You cannot blame yourself for your wife’s death or your own continuing life.”
Thomas turned away and avoided meeting the physician’s eyes. His statements were conventional, and he did long for them to be true, but God knew how often he failed to see any purpose in the suffering of innocents.
Gamel grunted.
Perhaps the physician had the same doubts as he, Thomas thought, but neither would admit to the impiety except to a confessor.
“May I ask after Sister Anne? I feared for her health because of the chill she suffered.”
Brother Thomas raised an eyebrow, momentarily bewildered by the unrelated subject. “If our sub-infirmarian had fallen ill, I would have learned of it. You would have been called as well.”
Gamel smiled with relief. “You have removed the weight from my heart, Brother. Indeed, I was grateful for her company on the way here. She is well-educated in the healing arts, far more than most that have practiced the apothecary trade. Although she is also a woman, she taught me many things I did not know. Her father was a physician, I believe, and she learned from him. And her manner is so modest that I did not even realize at the time that she had given me knowledge I lacked…” He stuttered to a stop, his cheeks flushing as he realized he had been chattering on with unseemly enthusiasm.
“I did notice that you spent much time by her side.” The monk winced at his poor phrasing. He had meant to banish any hint of disapproval
Gamel clasped his hands until the knuckles turned white. “The nun is most virtuous! I have never met any woman of her vocation more chaste or humble. Sometimes I did wonder if I was in the presence of a saint.”
Bowing his head in acknowledgement of Sister Anne’s virtue, Thomas no longer doubted that this man had lost his heart to the sub-infirmarian. He tried to feel outrage over Gamel’s transgression but utterly failed to summon indignation. To his knowledge, no sin had been committed except in the heart. Surely God would deem such relative innocence a minor failing.
Although faithful to her vows, Thomas knew that Sister Anne had only come to the religious life to follow her husband who had forsaken the world after their son’s untimely death. Perhaps God preferred her choice of religious vows, however reluctant, but he was sorry that she might not find the comfort of a more earthly love in the arms of a good man-like this physician. Silently, he growled at God.
“Master Gamel!”
Startled, Thomas turned around.
Sir Hugh loomed just behind him.
Thomas stepped away from the man and wondered how often this knight had slipped behind a foe, then slit his throat. The monk had not heard his footstep and was grateful he was not Hugh’s enemy.
Or was he? The man had never uttered a word to him unless obliged. Even then his demeanor was invariably glacial.