Father Vincent sobbed.
Ignoring him, the prioress shifted uneasily. “You swear that the merchant and my nun were not lovers. If that is true, I would know why they met in such an unseemly fashion.” She whispered the last sentence.
“I give you my word that Sister Roysia never broke her vows, my lady.” Thomas bowed his head to gain himself time. He did not want to explain as she required but could not avoid doing so in part. Durant had given him permission to tell what he must but begged him to keep as much secret as possible.
The monk straightened. “The king is planning to visit this town soon, and one of his courtiers learned that an assassin had been sent to kill him while he was here. Master Larcher, who was the king’s man in this place, was told to discover the traitor’s name. Since pilgrims stay in the priories here, and impart news while visiting, he was to contact specific religious in the Walsingham priories, whose loyalty was unquestioned and were in the best position to overhear important information. These sources were told to report anything to him that might lead to the capture of the assassin.”
Father Vincent and Prioress Ursell looked equally horrified.
“Sister Roysia was one, but she could neither read nor write and verbal messages sent by courier were unsafe. She suggested to the craftsman that they meet in the bell tower when she had news. Master Larcher was often in your chambers, my lady, and she could give him a signal at one of these frequent meetings. By the phrases spoken, she indicated time. She let down the rope. He climbed it and they talked.”
Looking ill with grief over all she was hearing, the prioress groaned.
“Sister Roysia called on the child, Gracia, to hide in the tower while she met with the craftsman so she would have proper attendance.”
The priest opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it.
“Why not tell me of this?” the prioress whispered.
“The good sister did not want to endanger any of Ryehill’s religious with this perilous knowledge, including you, my lady. Having seen the child in the streets, she offered to let Gracia sleep in the tower if she would come on those special occasions when a signal was given.”
He hurried on, hoping neither priest nor prioress would ask for details he did not want to divulge. After all, they need not know that the nun had chosen to give shelter to Gracia every night after the rape in defiance of Father Vincent’s curses. Some of those nights also coincided with the meetings. “Sister Roysia gave her oath to one of the nuns here that she had never broken her vows, even if others condemned her for lewdness. If need be, that nun will confirm that.”
“There is no doubt that Sister Roysia was murdered?” A tear fled down Prioress Ursell’s cheek and was brusquely swept away.
“She was. I believe she learned that the assassin had arrived in this priory and sent for Master Larcher so she might reveal her name. The assassin met her in the tower instead and pushed her to her death.”
“Her?” Father Vincent’s mouth gaped.
“Mistress Emelyne, the woman who also tried to kill Prioress Eleanor, was in the pay of the king’s enemies. She confessed all to Prioress Eleanor before she tried to kill her.”
“A woman!” The prioress gasped.
“Who better to hide her mission?” Thomas looked down at his hands. “She claimed to be a merchant’s widow from Norwich and was part of that band of pilgrims we joined on the way here. Prioress Eleanor found her torn robe in the chambers they shared here. The missing cloth was in Sister Roysia’s hand.” He looked at Ursell, daring her to criticize him for failing to mention he had even seen the fabric. “I have confirmed that the piece matches the hole in the garment.” Since he had not trusted Prioress Ursell to let him have the evidence, he asked the infirmarian to retrieve it for him. It was a favor he would keep secret.
“We harbored a traitor.” Prioress Ursell nervously rubbed her neck. “Even the Church will not protect us from condemnation. King Edward stands in high regard for his service in Outremer.”
“You did so without knowledge, my lady, and it was, after all, your nun who died trying to save his life. Prioress Eleanor herself will swear to your loyalty, proven by Sister Roysia’s death, and beg that King Edward grant you rents or property to make up for the loss of income from the pilgrimage badges. She cannot promise her plea will be successful, but, as you know, her brother enjoys the king’s favor.”
This time tears of relief did pour down her cheeks. “You and your prioress are compassionate beyond measure, Brother.” Then she turned to Father Vincent. “As for you, I shall inform the bishop of how you betrayed your calling, tried to cast shame on this priory, and how you lied to me while robing yourself in holy merit. The relic will be sold for the benefit of the poor.” She shuddered. “I would not allow one morsel of food bought with the proceeds to touch the lips of any of my nuns. It would pollute their souls.” She rose. “Plead for mercy, priest, for I now cast you from my sight and will beg for a praiseworthy man to replace you. May you be thrown into a dark prison for the remaining of your miserable…”
But Thomas did not stay to hear all her curses, and escaped while she was still uttering them. He had a child to tend and a wounded prioress to comfort. The less he saw of this pair, the better, although he admitted that he had found a small redeeming aspect to the dour Prioress Ursell.
Chapter Thirty-three
Durant turned away from the window of his room at the inn and smiled at the monk standing at the open door. Gesturing to the table, he said, “I ordered food, Brother, with the hope you would join me.”
“That is a feast.” Thomas sniffed the air, pungent with herb-rubbed and roasted fowl. An abundance of steaming root vegetables glistened on a small platter. In the middle of the table, a pewter jug sat with two goblets nearby, suggesting a good wine was to be part of the meal.
“I fear my tastes were formed in the markets of Norwich and the vineyards of the Aquitaine, not in the kitchens of a priory.”
Thomas laughed and was happy he could do so. Durant knew his past too well, yet the monk sensed he had nothing to fear from this man, although others surely did. He was also pleased the merchant had summoned him again. “Nor, as you well know, were mine, Master Durant. Yet I am surprised you and your wife were not captivated by the miracles created by Sister Matilda, overseer of our priory’s kitchen, during your stay at Tyndal Priory. Her version of monastic simplicity does not lack earthly delight.”
An ill-defined expression passed quickly over the wine merchant’s face, then he nodded. “I do recall the meals there. They were remarkable. Sadly, my opinion was skewed because ale was served, not wine, and I am better acquainted with the grape.”
Thomas grinned. “The ale is a local marvel. Had you stayed longer, you might have learned to prefer it.”
With a laugh, Durant bowed. “Please sit and let me pour some of this wine. The innkeeper is well-stocked with items that satisfy all tastes, and today is a feast day. I find his wine very pleasing.” Durant poured a deep ruby liquid into each cup and handed one to the monk.
Thomas raised his. “To the King of Heaven and the king of England.”
“Well said, Brother.”
And the two raised their goblets to the respective lords.
After Durant had insisted on serving the monk, then himself, the two men sat and ate in a silence that both found comfortable. Occasionally, one nodded in appreciation of the cook’s skill with bird or turnip, but they savored the offerings as men of taste might.
Refusing another helping, Thomas sat back and sipped his wine. “To what do I owe this invitation? Do not think me ungrateful, but I have served as you do, only for a different master, and know there are reasons for everything.”
“You are both correct and in error. I do have a reason, but I also missed your company.” The merchant blushed.