Herbert suddenly looked over Eleanor's head, his widening smile one of peculiar delight. "Is that not your monk, my lady?"
Eleanor spun around. Rushing toward them, from the direction of the inn, was Brother Thomas.
When Eleanor greeted him, Thomas did not know whether he should feel gratitude for the interruption to his grim mood or dismay at the sight of the fine-looking merchant standing so close to his prioress. He quickly dismissed both thoughts and replaced them with concern for Tyndal's honor. His prioress might know he had reason to be outside monastic walls, but her companion did not.
"My lady," he said. "I am most pleased to see you. I have just returned from offering solace to Sayer as you requested."
"At the inn?" The vintner's tone dripped with contempt.
Thomas felt his body grow rigid with anger at the disapproval he saw in Herbert's eyes. He swallowed his sharp reply, but his throat burned with the effort. "I saw Sayer enter the inn and followed him there," Thomas said, folding his arms. "The son laments the death of his father."
"And uses his sorrow as an excuse to grow into a sot from drink," Herbert snorted. "Yet I am sure the boy must grieve for a father who was murdered just after they quarreled. It would be an unnatural son who did not, although Sayer has always been a strange one." He shook his head. "Do not accuse me of being uncharitable, Brother, for I am not the only one in the village who thinks his soul does not praise God."
"For what reason is he so maligned?" Thomas continued, his tone as icy as a northern wind.
"Surely you would not ask me to repeat cruel gossip? If you spoke with him for any time, you must have seen the color of his soul for yourself." He bent his head toward the inn. "Satan finds joy in those who choose worldly indulgence over godly acts."
Thomas clenched his hand into a fist, then pressed it behind his back to keep from striking the man down.
Herbert smiled without humor. "Yet he may well have made peace with Wulfstan before the killing." He shrugged. "I would not know that."
Eleanor, who had remained quite silent throughout, now turned to Thomas. "I am grateful you have performed the mercy I requested, but I believe Sister Beatrice has another service for you."
The monk bowed. "I was just returning to the priory to seek her out, my lady." He suspected there was nothing the novice mistress wished him to do, but he guessed that his prioress had read his anger well. In any event, he was grateful to escape this offensive vintner.
As he walked away, and Eleanor resumed her conversation with Herbert, Thomas heard an uncharacteristic animation in her voice. The thought that his iron-willed and most virtuous prioress might be attracted to the dark-eyed merchant flitted briefly through his mind. The very idea made him uncomfortable, and he quickly turned his thoughts elsewhere.
Perhaps he should visit Brother Jerome? Now that Brother Baeda was dead, the irascible monk had taken on the librarian's duties, including care of the Amesbury Psalter. Time having somewhat faded the horror of murder, the witness might remember more about the killer he had seen.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Had Eleanor known about Thomas' momentary displeasure and the cause, her reaction might have been guilty delight mixed with surprised amusement. Herbert was an attractive man, even clever were she to be fair in judgement, but no imp would ever take on his form to torment her in dreams. Whatever charms this vintner might possess, they were not unflawed. He was an easy temptation to set aside.
"Your words have touched this heart, my lady, and I have found merit in them," the vintner said as he shifted his gaze from the departing monk back to the prioress.
"What frail logic have you transformed into something of value, Master Herbert?"
"God has surely sent you to bend me to His will. You see, I have suddenly lost all desire to go abroad and think I would find comfort in remaining near my first wife's lonely grave. I would never step on cursed soil, but might not my presence and daily prayers give her tortured spirit some comfort even in Hell?"
Souls in Hell were not granted ease, but Eleanor did not want to discourage the man from an act that might bring him respite from grief. "Yet you still wish to remarry?" she asked.
"Aye, I do, weak of flesh that I am. I would surely die of burning if I did not find a wife." He flicked his hand toward the priory. "Unlike your young monk, I have no religious calling, and sons are needed if any business is to continue and prosper."
"Have you new hope that Alys will accept you as husband?"
He shook his head. "You spoke of kindness and thus persuaded me that further delay in this marriage is hurtful to all concerned. Until Alys is firmly pledged to me, she will persist with her dream that she may yet wed the glover. While I have tolerated a young girl's itch for a boy, I now understand that there is great danger in continuing to do so." His gaze was almost caressing as he looked down at Eleanor. "Women who stay in the world have led men to their damnation since Eve gave Adam the apple. Master Bernard would have to be a saint not to bed Alys if she continues to give him encouragement. No matter how much patience and compassion I might wish to show in this matter, I do require that my first born be of my seed. Is that not reasonable?"
"You should expect it," Eleanor replied truthfully, yet she was unsettled by his mocking tone.
"Thus all sweet courting must end. Although I am loath to do so, I have no choice but to make one final trip to Gascony, and so I go to Mistress Jhone to insist that the marriage be arranged before I leave."
"You know that any woman may refuse a marriage…"
"Alys might have that legal right, but surely she understands both the profit in our union and her moral obligation. The marriage was her dead father's wish. It is her mother's. It is mine. How can she refuse?"
Eleanor nodded with barely concealed reluctance.
"Once Alys and I are vowed to each other, I can take this last journey without fear that the mother will weaken and let the girl marry Master Bernard." Herbert folded his hands. "The boy is only interested in the wool business and would cast the widow from their hearth as soon as he had the daughter. I would not be so cruel."
Why fear that Mistress Jhone would suddenly change, a woman who had shown no bending at all in this matter heretofore? Eleanor frowned, yet she could not quarrel with the vintner's fears regarding Alys and Bernard. Their meetings might seem too brief to the pair, but the prioress knew how quickly lust flamed and how little time it took to find a mutual quenching. "When do you leave?"
"Within the next few days." He gestured with frustration. "You see why I need an immediate answer. My courting skills are indeed rough, but I like Alys. She may be young, but she is not a child and has a quick wit. She is like a bright fire, and I am a cold man without a wife. My heart finds warmth in her light spirit. In time, we could surely learn to love each other. He fell silent.
"I will pray for good fortune in this matter," Eleanor said, carefully choosing her words. The vintner might have won her compassion with these latest arguments, and she feared that Bernard had an interest in stolen manuscripts, but her woman's heart still sided with the younger couple.
Ignoring any ambivalence in Eleanor's fair wishes, the merchant smiled as if God Himself had approved his venture. He quickly asked a blessing, then hurried off to the woolmonger's family.
Eleanor longed to follow but knew she had no cause to interfere.
Chapter Thirty-Three
"Had this manuscript been stored properly, Brother Baeda would still be alive!" Brother Jerome might be an elderly man, but his opinions were as firm as his wiry body.