Gracia had come in through the door unseen, the prioress thought, but a child is swifter and probably less visible than a man. A girl would also climb those stairs to the tower with ease. A man could not.
“What reason did she have for this strange meeting?”
“She did not lie with him. She swore it!”
Eleanor nodded. “Very well, but why do this? It is against the spirit of her vows even if she did not break them in fact.”
“She told me that she met with this man for a purpose God would approve.”
“How could God bless such a deed, one that any reasonable person would say cast her chastity into question.”
The nun shook her head with evident despair. “When I asked, she said she had already told me too much. But, lest she ever be condemned as a whore, she wanted me to know she had honored her vows and served God well.”
What a strange thing to say. Did she expect to be caught? Perhaps she believed she would die. Or was Sister Roysia simply mad?
“But she was still alone with him, was she not?” Eleanor tried to think how she could question the nun further but knew it would probably be fruitless. The young woman had already said Sister Roysia refused to say more.
“She claimed she had a witness, someone to provide proper attendance.”
Eleanor stared at her. “Who was this witness?”
The nun shook her head.
Was it the vagrant child? If so, how did she arrange for this? Sister Roysia must have involved another nun in this strange activity. It was not this one, in whom the dead nun had confided. Did she have another friend? Might this witness even be the killer?
Eleanor’s head was spinning. There were far too many questions. Although she posed a few more questions, she was quickly convinced that the young nun had no more information.
So she ceased the interrogation and turned to consoling the grieving religious for the loss of her friend. When the nun left, she seemed calmer, although sorrow would linger as a raw wound for some time.
Eleanor remained on the bench, no longer in a contemplative mood, her peace destroyed.
She now had confirmation from two sources that Sister Roysia was meeting a man in the tower. Gracia said he was Master Larcher, that Father Vincent knew of the encounters, and that the priest assisted the pair in this dubious endeavor for an unknown reason. Prioress Ursell had learned of this and, fearing scandal, believed Sister Roysia and Master Larcher were lovers. Yet she had not stopped it.
But Mistress Emelyne claimed that rumor also pointed to Father Vincent as the nun’s lover. Gracia had only told her that the priest helped the pair meet, but Eleanor had not had time to ask the child if the priest might be meeting the nun as well. Sister Roysia’s friend knew about only one man. And there was an unknown witness. Gracia? Another nun? Both?
Rising from the bench, Eleanor shook her head in dismay. She must speak with Brother Thomas about all this. But she was deeply troubled by the most obvious, unanswered question.
Assuming the curious encounters between nun and craftsman had been chaste, what possible reason could they have had to meet, and why in the bell tower? Of all the explanations she could imagine, none excused the disgrace their actions brought to Ryehill Priory.
Chapter Twenty
Prioress Ursell rose from her prie-dieu and brushed dust from her robe. Her nail snagged on the rough cloth and tore a small hole. Glaring at the spot, she knew she must mend it herself. Ryehill was too poor to allow her to hire a maid, and the nun who served instead was a pitiful creature who never cleaned properly and stuck more needles in fingers than cloth.
As the prioress walked into her audience chamber, she was pleased to note the snapping fire in the grate. At least one duty had been performed properly.
The day was as chill as her mood.
Her orisons just now had been personal, and offering her distress to God had briefly calmed her. She had been shattered by the revelation of Sister Roysia’s wickedness, a woman she had trusted with any secrets heard and with the knowledge of how she handled them. Letting a nun under her rule have that privilege was a delicate decision. She had erred in judging the woman suitable. Sister Roysia’s betrayal had wounded her deeply.
Now she must choose another to stand inside the chambers when she had dealings with worldly men. The one she had picked for the meeting with Master Larcher was useless. Although Prioress Ursell used fear on occasion to achieve obedience, she understood that too much of it bred rebellion, and so she had only mentioned briefly to the nun that hellfire awaited those who disobeyed their religious leaders. After she had met with the craftsman and the nun had fled to the infirmarian, vomiting the little she had eaten at the last meal, the prioress concluded that the woman had no stomach for the duties of an attendant.
Prioress Ursell was too upset to note her own unconscious witticism.
As she considered the possible choices amongst her nuns to replace Sister Roysia, she regretted how few were in her charge. She knew all their weaknesses and strengths, but no name rose to mind. An aged one whose hearing had dulled might be best, she thought, but even her sole elderly nun was blessed with sharp ears.
She heard a rough scratching at her chamber door. The practice annoyed her, and today the balance of her humors was still fragile. “Enter!” she barked.
A nun walked into the room, head bowed, and hands modestly clasped.
“Why have you come to me?”
“Over a troubling matter, my lady.”
“Speak, but be brief.” Ursell settled herself into her chair and waved the woman to a spot a few feet in front of her.
“I do not judge what I have witnessed, for that is not my privilege, but the incident is one I believe you must hear about.”
Ursell hoped this was not another complaint about special friendships or taking an extra bite at supper. Such things were duly punished, and she must be informed, but she had no patience with little frailties today. “Continue.”
“The prioress of Tyndal went to walk in the cloister garden after the last Office. There she met with the nun who was so ardently favored by Sister Roysia. You know her as…”
Ursell waved that away. “Your purpose, Sister.” Yet she was now interested in what this woman was saying. Studying her, she recalled that this nun had occasionally come to her with offenses that merited more than a minor penance from the guilty one. As she thought about it, she also recalled that she was one of the few in Ryehill Priory not to admire Sister Roysia.
“She has told this guest of our priory that Sister Roysia met secretly with a man in the bell tower, although she also swore that our sister claimed they did not do so for any evil purpose.” Her mouth pursed with contempt. “I do not know if this tale is true, but I was shocked that anyone in our priory would say such a thing to a stranger.”
“She mentioned this wickedness to Prioress Eleanor, a woman who has no cause to know of it?” Ursell began to tremble. “Were it even true, of course!”
“She did, my lady.”
“What else did this child of the Devil say?”
“That there was another who witnessed these meetings.”
Prioress Ursell leapt from her chair, her face pale with horror. “Who?”
“This guest, unappreciative of our hospitality, did ask our disloyal sister, but no name was spoken.”
The leader of Ryehill Priory began to pace, fury replacing astonishment. “Prioress Eleanor questioned her,” she muttered. “She dared to interrogate one of my nuns without my permission or my presence.”
“Although I have no right to judge, my lady, I confess I was shocked that this lady of Tyndal behaved in this discourteous manner.” She shook her head. “Forgive me if I err, but I believe she ought to have refused to listen to our wayward sister as soon as she understood the nature of the tale. She has no authority here and should have closed her ears to these scandalous words.” Looking up, she shifted her gaze to the cross on the wall. “If the tale were true, only you have the right to know of it and render judgment, not a stranger.”