Thomas refused to reply.
Walking over to the simple altar, the priest studied the roughly made cross. It was constructed of two unevenly carved pieces of wood, bound together by rope. He inclined his head as if considering the workmanship and whether it suited its holy purpose.
Outside, a cart rumbled by, the wheels squeaking. Laughter from the men accompanying it balanced the heavy stillness between the two men in the hut.
“Why are you here?” Thomas shattered the hush first, conceding victory to the priest’s stronger will.
Eliduc folded his hands into the sleeves of his soft robe and turned. “Queen Eleanor is planning a pilgrimage. Since she may stay at Tyndal, it is my duty to make sure the priory is prepared to uplift her spirit in godly ways and as she most ardently desires.”
“Does our prioress know you are here?”
“Before the bells rang for the last Office, she and Prior Andrew greeted the entire party from court, of which I am but one humble member. Contrary to your suspicions, I did not fly over the priory walls, dropping venom from my jaws to poison the local wells, and land outside your hermitage.”
Thomas dropped his gaze.
The priest glided closer until his body almost brushed against the monk. “You have grown rebellious, Thomas. Have you forgotten how you lay in a bed of your own excrement and were raped like some enemy woman?”
The monk covered his face and groaned.
Eliduc’s breath was now hot on Thomas’ cheek. “Do you not owe much for your freedom?”
“Shall that debt never be paid?” Thomas whispered. “If you think such servitude is freedom…”
“Would you have preferred to die with the weight of your vile sins dragging your soul down to Hell?”
“You lied to me! You swore I would burn at the stake for one act of sodomy, and I know of no man who has.”
Eliduc stepped back, his eyes widening with surprise. “Lie? I think not, Brother. I presaged the truth. The year I offered you a path to atonement, many were proclaiming the day would come when sodomites would feel Hell’s fire in their flesh before their souls were eternally damned. Sodomy is not merely a sin of the body, Thomas. It is a sign of heresy. Be grateful I gave you acts of cleansing penance before it was too late. It will not be long before the Church proclaims harsher measures against sodomites and all others who dare blaspheme against the only true faith. You would be wise to believe me when I say that King Edward agrees with this most heartily.”
“You forget that my father…”
Raising his hand for silence, Eliduc continued. “Be advised, my son, to reflect with care on what I have told you. Before you point to any lineage or argue my conclusions, remember that you are a bastard and your father is now dead. Should the Church find you guilty of heretical sodomy, there is no man who would try to save you from burning. To do so would suggest his own soul was tainted. This warning is meant as a kindness, although you may not understand that now.”
Thomas felt the world spin and he grabbed the edge of the table. Regaining his balance, his reason told him he should beg this man’s forgiveness while his heart remained incapable of it.
“Let us make peace,” Eliduc said. “Do we not both serve God?”
Do we? Thomas doubted it, and all he could do was nod agreement. He lacked both strength and words to dispute further.
Seeing the monk had conceded defeat, Eliduc stepped back. “As I said, Brother, I did not come to take you away from this place.” His voice grew soft as if granting some mercy.
“You wish something of me. Am I also wrong in concluding that you would not have come if you had no demand?” Again Thomas’ voice trembled, and he was humiliated by such a betrayal of his weakness.
Eliduc clapped his hands once. “How perceptive!”
Thomas bit his lip hard at the mockery and tasted sour hate in his blood.
“You have indeed caught me out.”
“Tell me what I must now do?” the monk hissed.
Father Eliduc shook his head and turned toward the door. After a brief hesitation, he looked back over his shoulder and gazed at the man he owned. “Methinks I need not even tell you. With your wondrous powers of reason and logic, you shall discover it yourself.”
Then the man in black walked through the doorway and let the sun’s warmth slip back inside.
Chapter Ten
Brother Beorn stood in awe.
The orange sun slipped toward the horizon, conceding all power to the night. Streaks of clouds, once vermillion tinged with gold, darkened. Birdsong grew hushed. Only the whine of biting things remained undiminished.
This daily surrender of God’s light to the darkness of Satan’s hours never ceased to amaze Brother Beorn. Had he been a man of less ardent faith, he might have questioned why this happened. Instead he accepted years ago that the message lay more in the recovery of light at dawn than any relinquishment of it at night. He often stopped to watch the event with both wonderment and reverence, and as he did each time, bowed his head with a briefly uttered prayer.
Had he pondered more on God’s creations, he might have found many other contradictions to consider. Deciding the Church and its leaders were surely wiser than he, the lay brother had chosen to reject such diversions. For this reason, he was surprised to realize that, on the matter of the queen’s party, he remained of two minds.
On one hand, he was delighted that King Edward’s wife wished to show humble gratitude to God for the safe return from Outremer. A pilgrimage was unquestionably fitting, but he did not approve of the new guest quarters, however austere, because they were solely for the comfort of those serving secular lords.
Surely the priory could have found better use for what it had cost to build them. He could think of several other ways to honor the greater glory of God with extra coin, from thicker blankets for the dying to a bigger cross on the hospital chapel altar.
This quandary troubled him. He knew he must respect and accept any decision made by Prioress Eleanor, and he did so willingly most of the time. In this matter, he had little tolerance for secular foibles. No matter how many times he bid it be silent, his insubordinate spirit argued that Tyndal Priory would always be better served by a fine chalice to brighten worship than soft beds for the ease of wealthy bones, even queenly ones.
As he rounded the stables, he stopped to enjoy the snickering of contented horses. He was a countryman and four-legged creatures were dear to him. Although he knew they did not have souls, he had often to confess his lingering suspicion that many of them were more prefect creations than those allegedly made in His image. Never had he heard a cow blaspheme nor a sheep proclaim heresy. Goats, on the other hand, reeked of lust. He had doubts about goats.
He breathed in deeply, enjoying the smells of the earth, warmed by the sun. Dusk, so long delayed in this summer season, had fallen at last. He looked forward to prayers and the deep sleep of one who had labored hard for God and was blest with honest dreams.
As he walked on, he decided the day had been particularly joyful. The infirmarian, Sister Christina, had prayed with a young woman who came to the hospital with blinding headaches. Soon after, the sufferer had gone home to her husband and babes, cured by the grace of God. Many might praise the potions of Sister Anne while Brother Beorn believed the infirmarian was a saint. Herbs would do no good were it not for the blessings of Sister Christina.
Just then, angry shouts destroyed his tranquil thoughts.
Beorn stopped, staring into the darkness, horrified that such rage had invaded priory grounds.
Two men stood in the gloom near the guest quarters, their shadowy arms gesturing wildly as they argued.