“I have heard that the crowner’s jury found the death accidental.”
“I did not mean that I questioned his involvement in the boy’s death, only that Hob seems to have repented of that sin.”
“Yet he struck you from behind at the smithy. Might that act suggest a man who does not wish to face another? He may have changed, as you claim, but he could still be the bully he was as a lad only in different guise.”
Ralf considered her words in silence and then shook his head.
“Teach me your reasoning, Ralf. What causes you to conclude that Will is more capable of killing than his brother?”
“Will once threw a young cur into the smithy fire because the creature barked, causing him to damage an object he was working on. Hob burned his own hands saving the animal. That is but one tale out of many I could mention.”
Anne grew pale at the story. “Is that the dog that follows Hob everywhere?”
“Aye, the one with scarred bald spots where the fur could not grow back.”
“I understand,” she said, her eyes narrowing with rare anger.
“Yet Hob has always been a loyal brother, loving Will more than the elder merits. Whatever evil Hob committed as a youth, he now works hard, complains little, and sins only in fighting for his brother’s honor and sometimes drinking more than he should.”
“And so he nearly killed you out of loyalty this day?”
“He might well have done so if he had wished it. Instead, he led Will off to safety so his temper could cool and left me to wake up when Cuthbert threw a bucket of water over my head. Some might say my suffering head was penance for the sin of almost breaking the smith’s hand, or else the near drowning I got with my sergeant’s tender concern.” He gingerly touched his neck where the poultice lay. “For this I should have cracked the blacksmith’s wrist in two!”
“You said you suspected Will of knowing something more than he is saying. Will you question him further?” Anne looked at the crowner with that stern expression common to mothers with troublesome sons. “Without breaking any part of him?”
The crowner’s grin was wicked enough to warm any imp’s heart. “Additional inquiry I may promise you, but I cannot say the blacksmith might not suffer a minor scratch or bruise!” Ralf’s expression shifted from jest to determination. “You have given me reason to ask Hob more questions as well, Annie. Perhaps he does have something to hide. Or, if he is such a loyal brother, he might know secrets belonging to his brother, matters he wishes to conceal as much as Will does. If he understands that telling me everything would keep Will from the hangman, he might speak up.”
“Then go,” Anne replied. “But you might do worse than remember Brother Beorn’s words about mercy.”
Perplexed, Ralf raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Should you forget your past principles and use untoward force as a method of inquiry again, God might not protect you the next time you forget to watch your back.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Had the sea turned the color of Prioress Eleanor’s eyes, sailors would be howling prayers for deliverance. Brother Thomas found himself wishing for some safe haven as well.
“I care not that Sister Juliana is an anchoress with a line of pilgrims at her window, no monk should spend time there. It is unseemly,” the prioress said. “After witnessing that matter in Amesbury last year, you, of all people, should know how quickly any priory may garner accusations of lewdness.”
“I beg forgiveness, my lady. Never would I deliberately bring shame to you or this priory. If I have done so out of foolishness, no penance you demand of me could be more severe or painful than my own remorse.”
“What was your purpose in visiting her?”
Faced with his prioress’ wrath, Thomas began to wonder if it was truly God that had drawn him there. In any case, he was sure of one thing, even if it was his only certainty: “My intent was innocent,” he replied weakly.
“Indeed.”
The monk opened his mouth but no words came forth. He cleared his throat. “Without question, I have erred, but I swear to you that I was drawn to the window for the same reasons others have had. I wanted…” He hesitated. “I sought understanding.” How else could he explain it?
Eleanor folded her arms. Her look did not soften. “When I questioned our anchoress, she succeeded in providing more detail, declaring you came to debate questions of faith. That is an admirable activity in principle, Brother, but your wish for disputations of that nature are best satisfied with another monk or with your prior. Sister Juliana may pose what queries she has with her confessor.”
Lacking any response, he bowed.
“She might even properly seek my counsel.”
Thomas winced at her sharp rebuke and kept his eyes lowered. He could not quarrel with a thing his prioress was saying, yet something urged him to resist in this matter. Was it Satan? What of his vow to obey this woman without question?
The meeting between him and the anchoress had been chaste. Even if his wicked nature had wanted it otherwise, his manhood would have shriveled in Sister Juliana’s terrifying presence. And hadn’t her advice already brought him more peace than he had previously known? Where was the sin if she taught him how to pray? Were there not holy women who were blessed with God’s speech? Hadn’t abbots and bishops begged advice from many?
“That said, I have not forgotten that you have served both Tyndal and my family well in the past.”
Thomas blinked at the abrupt change of subject. Her comment might have pleased another, but uneasiness pricked him with an icy sting. Was she listing factors that would modify the severity of his penance, or was she about to pursue some new direction for reproach? His heart longed for the former. His mind feared the last. Opting to remain silent, he raised his eyes and hoped his demeanor revealed only a suitable meekness.
“For this reason, I should have no reason to doubt either your commitment to your vows or your fealty to me as head of this priory. Am I correct?”
“I may have been a most sinful man in years past, but I swear to you that I have not broken my vows since I took them.”
“Vows of both chastity and obedience? While you have been here?”
Had Death’s finger just caressed his heart or had that organ simply frozen with indefinable dread? Her questions were often deceptively simple, and he suspected this was one such occasion. Most monks wrestled with lust, but he had remained as chaste as most-and more than some, if truth be told. Other than in dreams, when he swyved imps dressed in mortal flesh, he had not broken any vow, even at Amesbury. “Aye, my lady,” he said with caution and hoped his simple reply had been adequate.
The prioress studied him in silence, her head tilted to one side and her eyes showing determined patience.
She is waiting for something more, he thought and knew he had not satisfied her. Who had accused him of lewdness? Or, he suddenly thought, who had questioned his obedience and why? Thomas met her eyes, allowing his bewilderment to show.
Eleanor turned away from him and walked toward the window. For a long time, she stared out at the priory grounds as if they might give her answers she was not getting from her monk. “What reason did you really have for visiting our anchoress, Brother?”
Although her voice had softened a bit, Thomas wondered why she would not be plainer in her concern. Had she mentioned obedience only because he had not sought permission to visit the anchoress? He considered his response.
“I do not wish some fine speech, but rather blunt honesty.” She turned around to face him. “Some time ago you confided a secret to me, a troubling admission I honored with silence. Did that not teach you that I respect frankness and do not abuse a confidence?”
“I hesitate only because I am not sure myself why or by what power I was drawn to Sister Juliana’s window, although my purpose was not lewd. In that, I am most certain. Have I been so accused?”