“Soft, my friend, soft.” Eleanor could only sooth with words, although she longed to take the woman into her arms and let her weep. “Had your husband died and you not sworn yourself to God’s service, Master Gamel would have found a loving wife in you and rejoiced in the happiness you gave him. There is no sin in knowing that, only in seizing what cannot be.”
“I may have entered the religious life with little longing for it, but I have tried to honor my vows and serve God well. Indeed, I found comfort and purpose at Tyndal. Had I stayed in the world, I would have remained alone, banned from remarriage after my husband took his own vows.”
“And you have served Him with honor,” Eleanor replied.
For a long while, they rode in a silence broken only by the clop of hooves and the nickering of horses.
“Brother John and I never see each other now,” Anne said. “He grew too fearful of committing a grave sin because we spoke together.”
The prioress nodded, wondering what solace she could offer her friend. As she had learned soon after arriving at Tyndal, the pair met on occasion, their encounters as chaste as expected between a couple converted from husband and wife to brother and sister on taking monastic vows. For the innocent comfort it gave them, the prioress had never forbidden the brief meetings, although she knew many would condemn her leniency.
Now Brother John had finally severed this last tie to the secular world he had eagerly fled. She should not be surprised, considering his increasing asceticism. Were he to beg permission to become an anchorite, she would understand.
But this decision to utterly abandon his wife, who had taken vows at Tyndal only because she could not bear to lose him completely, had robbed Anne of the last comfort to which she had clung for strength. Since she had never cast the world aside in her heart, Eleanor knew its joys still beckoned to her.
Fortunately, Master Gamel was a good man who would never have lured the nun to sin, even if he had wished he could wake up by Anne’s side for the rest of their lives. Nonetheless, the situation could have ended with a tragic difference. How much of Anne’s suffering was her fault, Eleanor asked herself. Lust had tainted her own reason for too long and most significantly on this journey. She cringed at how much she had let this friend down, a woman who had never failed her.
She looked up. The first person she saw was Brother Thomas, riding by himself a short distance ahead of her.
The sight of the monk brought her both warmth and comfort. For once her longing to hold him had nothing to do with desire but all to do with gratitude. He had saved her brother’s life, brought peace to a dying man, and pulled her out of her soul’s darkness.
She had never told Sister Anne of her desire for the monk, but her own feelings informed her compassion for the sub-infirmarian. They both loved men who had rejected the joys of the marriage bed, and, if she suffered lust-filled dreams despite her chosen vocation, Anne must suffer greater agony having taken vows in sorrow, not joy. Was there a way to peace for them both?
Suddenly a thought struck her, the needed gift of insight. Surely God had been teaching all of them lessons during this visit. As she pondered this, she grew both hopeful and relieved.
Recalling all that had happened during the time with Baron Herbert and his family, however, she shuddered. Now that she had escaped, the feeling that they had each been put under a spell grew stronger. Lessons there might have been for them all, but what a price every one had paid.
Her brother and Lady Margaret had almost committed an adultery neither of them wished for. Brother Thomas had fought with Sir Hugh, then saved his life with another act of violence when he cast a stone at Sir Leonel. Neither act was acceptable for a monk; neither was even likely for one as gentle as he. What, she wondered, had been the lesson for her monk and brother? Perhaps she understood best what Lady Margaret had learned, for she had seen her walk to her husband’s side and swear to remain there until death.
In her case, her feelings for Leonel were just blinding lust. Her heart did not grieve over his death, only her body. Were Brother Thomas to die, she would mourn until God deigned to take her soul as well. Her longing to couple with the monk might be wicked, but there was a grain of purity in her love as well. How else explain why they worked so effectively together in rendering God’s justice? Somehow she must cling to the virtue of that love while rejecting the forbidden.
And what was her sub-infirmarian’s lesson? Perhaps it was the knowledge that she must seek strength in a different kind of love.
When Brother John cut the last bond to his earthly wife, Anne was forced to let go her hold on him. Like Master Gamel, the nun had long clung to a dead spouse. In Anne’s case, the spouse was dead only to the secular world. When she and the physician met, they each discovered that they could find another love in this life.
Eleanor was sure that Master Gamel would remarry one day. As for Sister Anne, she must finally make peace with her husband’s choice to leave her for God, but what path she would take was unknown. There were dangers.
Perhaps I did err in letting Brother John and Sister Anne continue to meet, the prioress thought. Had I forbidden it, she might have stepped away earlier with less pain than she suffers now. In any case, I must take very tender care of her. Not only is she my friend, she is still vowed to God’s service.
Sister Anne said something.
Eleanor asked her to repeat it.
“I shall ponder much that happened here, but there is one incident I do not understand. Why did Sir Leonel ride back to the castle after leaving the cove? He would have found safety on the continent.”
“There are two conclusions I might make. The man had left Brother Thomas and my brother with the wounded Raoul. The tide was rising swiftly. There was only one horse. Raoul would surely drown. If Hugh and our monk fought over the horse, or had hesitated too long over saving the baron’s son, both might have been caught by the sea as well. From Sir Leonel’s reasoning, that was likely, and he would be the only witness to what had happened in the cave. Rest assured, he would have told the tale to his benefit.”
“And the baron would have believed him instead of you?”
Eleanor smiled. “His nephew had manipulated the truth for many years. He surely thought his skill would be a match for anything I might claim.”
“Then he misjudged your persuasive arguments, as proven by the baron’s swift action in sending the soldiers after you spoke with him,” Anne replied. “There was a second possibility?”
“Men are wicked, but they are still made in God’s image. Although Sir Leonel plotted against his cousins, his uncle was the only father he had truly known. I would not discount the possibility that he returned to the castle, in part, because he wanted to hear Baron Herbert proclaim him his son as well as heir. Call it a tainted love, but I suspect the nephew did love the man who had taken him into his heart.”
“So much wickedness occurred in that place. I am grateful to escape it.”
“In that I join you, for I sinned enough there myself.”
“Will you also seek Brother Thomas for confession? He knows the circumstances so well.”
“I shall speak with Brother John,” the prioress said.
“I may not.” The words were sharp-edged. Anne flushed, then continued more gently. “He has always had a wise heart. You will be guided well by him.”
“Yet you would be right to seek counsel from Brother Thomas. God understands we are weak creatures but gives courage when the right path is chosen. Had you and Master Gamel been less virtuous, Satan would have triumphed. That he most certainly did not. When you speak with Brother Thomas, he will bring you even more comfort in this matter than I.”