“Henceforth, I shall try to find peace in that, but I fear he will never see his condemnation of my brother as the heartlessness it was.”
Thomas remained silent about his own condemnation of the priest’s soul. Instead, he smiled approval for the man’s resolution. “And so you fled the quarters to avoid killing the priest.”
“And went back to the hospital chapel where I lay prostrate before the altar, weeping and begging God to show me how to expiate my sins.”
“Did He answer your prayer?”
“His reply came from the quiet flickering of a candle.” Philippe gestured at the men close by. “That small group of penitents had just arrived on their way to Canterbury and had been given mats next to mine on which to sleep one night. I was to join them in their journey, but this time I must do so as a true pilgrim. After which, I might return home to my wife and children. Holy vows are not my calling, but my wife has long urged me to give more of the income from my trade to the poor. As I rose from my knees, I could hear my wife’s joyous cry when I returned from Becket’s shrine and announced that I would follow her pious advice and found a small hospital, based on what I had seen here, for the sick and dying poor.”
Thomas solemnly nodded. “But now I keep you from your devout journey and holy purpose.”
“I conclude that is God’s will, Brother. The innocent clerk meant only to protect his master and did nothing to merit the wound I gave him. It is only just that you take me to the crowner for punishment.”
Thomas quietly looked at this man but found the struggle to decide what was best easier than he had imagined.
Philippe had folded his hands and meekly waited for the monk to lead him off to chains and the king’s justice.
“Go to Canterbury,” Thomas said and pointed to the other penitents waiting for the fog to lift so they could commence their travel on the road to a saint’s tomb. “There is no reason for you to remain here.” With a brief blessing, he walked away.
Had Thomas looked back, he would have seen Philippe fall to his knees, his arms raised to heaven, and his heart filled with astounded gratitude.
Chapter Thirty-five
Although the sea mist had finally dissipated, the earth remained wet with its tears. Multicolored leaves, once proudly announcing the rich harvest in the priory orchard, lay on the ground, dull with mold and rotting into the soil. The chill, eager to herald the coming months of bitter cold, lingered in the air. It was that time when men’s souls grow fearful, for the dark season is when Death most loves to garner souls.
Brother Thomas and Prioress Eleanor were not part of that tremulous multitude. As they approached the courtyard inside the main gate, their expressions spoke of keen anticipation.
“Have you received any news?’ he asked.
The prioress nodded. “Nute was chosen to be the messenger for Gytha’s travail. He has confirmed that Sister Anne arrived at the manor and immediately ordered Ralf out of the house. After she had examined Gytha, she sent Signy outside long enough to announce that our sub-infirmarian was pleased with the progress of the child’s birth.” Eleanor smiled. “The crowner is sweating drops the size of crossbow bolts. Nute said that Ralf had even fallen to his knees in prayer at least once.”
Thomas looked surprised. “If Ralf is doing that on a day that is neither a Sunday nor a feast day, he is truly frightened.”
“Our crowner may growl and sputter about the Church, but he tithes faithfully,” she replied with a smile. “And he may not attend Mass every Sunday, but he most certainly can recite all of the Seven Deadly Sins.”
“His wife may help him forget a few of those,” Thomas replied with a lighter heart, then grew solemn. “Sister Anne is certain there is no problem with the birthing?”
“I did not want to postpone Nute’s return to the manor with questions he could not answer, but I am confident that our beloved Gytha is doing well. Before Sister Anne sent the boy to us, she urged him to emphasize that Gytha was having as easy a time as any woman could with birth pains.” The prioress looked quickly behind her as if hoping to see the lad arrive with word that the babe had been born and all was well. “Nute vowed to come to the priory every time there was news.”
“After we wish Godspeed to our abbess’ brother, I beg leave to go to the manor and help Ralf through this time. Men may not give birth, but it would be a heartless husband who did not weep when he heard his wife scream with pain. Ralf cherishes Gytha, and he recently asked me if God minded the curses he gave Eve for burdening good women with such agony just because their foremother couldn’t resist a pretty apple.” Thomas grinned. “I told him God might condemn him if he didn’t.”
Looking at him with fondness, Eleanor said, “You would have been a good husband had you chosen another calling.” Then she flushed with embarrassment and quickly added, “Of course you must give comfort to our dear friend. I would suggest you leave now, but we both must see Father Etienne off.” She grimaced at the very thought of the man. “I need your strength to prevent me from saying something I should not.”
“My lady, it is your strength I shall need not to forget my vows and strike him.”
At that, they both laughed.
“Fear not, my lady,” he said. “I have never regretted my oaths, although they are not always easy to obey.” Those were words he would not have meant years ago when he was forced to take the vows, but they had become true since-with one unsettling exception.
Although he no longer mourned the loss of the man he had once deeply loved, he now found he often thought of Durant, a wine merchant he had met in Walsingham. Surely the cause was Gytha’s pregnancy, he decided, for Durant had spoken of the longing he and his wife had for a child. When Thomas and the wine merchant last parted, the monk had given him a blessing and added his prayers that the union between husband and wife would be fruitful. A babe would bring much joy to Durant, he thought, and wondered again if God had heard his plea.
“Not once have I doubted your devotion,” the prioress replied, then paused. “Before we see Father Etienne, you should tell me the details of your recent meeting with the man from Picardy. Was he interested in our honored guest?”
It was Thomas’ turn to blush as he prayed Prioress Eleanor would never discover his longing for a man’s love. To hide his face, he bowed his head and told her the tale of Philippe as well as the reason for letting the man go. “I beg forgiveness for doing this without consulting you,” he said.
She stopped and looked up at him, her gray eyes warm. “We often think as one in serving God, Brother. Had you sought advice, I would have agreed that justice was best honored by letting the man expiate his sins as he wished. Perhaps God did enlighten him on how murder blights the mortal soul. Despite the Commandments, many try to distinguish between righteous and sinful killing, an often confusing difference.” She sighed. “Our world has become so violent. Under King Henry, we had longer periods of peace, but his son has changed that.”
“Your clemency is gracious, my lady.” But he knew that her comments on the world reflected her fears for her brother’s safety in Wales. “I pray daily for Sir Hugh,” he added softly.
“Prayers for which he and I are most grateful.” Although she never knew exactly why her eldest brother had initially disliked Brother Thomas, the monk had saved Sir Hugh’s life. Since then, there had been no discord between the men. “After the service you have rendered all of us in my father’s family, you have become my third brother in the world as well as my spiritual kin.”
He bowed his head with humility, and the two fell silent, lost in their particular thoughts as they hurried on to the meeting with the soon-to-be Bishop Etienne Davoir.
***
Clerks tossed their meager bundles of possessions to others and clambered into the wagons that had brought them to Tyndal Priory. Their shouts and laughter at departure contrasted with their sedate hush on arrival.