“May God forgive me,” Eleanor said, knowing full well what she also intended. She was not so oblivious to her failings that she did not recognize another, less benevolent motive in her concern for this woman.
She turned and walked out of the chapel into the harsh glare of the summer sun.
Chapter Twenty-one
The hot afternoon air lay heavily upon the earth. All birds had fallen silent, and even bees were no longer tempted by the lure of dazzling flowers. As the prioress walked with measured pace toward the guest quarters, she prayed that all mortal creatures had found relief and, for those unable to rest, there was shade in which to continue laboring.
Eleanor had no wish to join any in respite. Her mind now eagerly seeking ways to discover a killer, she no longer felt the heat.
As far as she knew, no one, including Father Eliduc, had asked Lady Avelina any questions about Baron Otes. Although God had judged the souls of both sexes to be equal, mortals believed Eve’s daughters were cursed with feeble natures and weaker wit. Men did not often remember to query women, forgetting that powerless creatures survived by keeping their ears alert for sounds ignored by the more confident and their eyes vigilant for troubling details. It was possible Lady Avelina had noticed some small thing that might lead Crowner Ralf to Baron Otes’ murderer. Eleanor was keen to find out.
As she neared the guest house, someone called out to her. She looked over her shoulder.
Brother Beorn hurried down the path toward her.
Eleanor waited, apprehension gnawing at her gut. Had there been another untoward death? Shading her eyes, she tried to interpret the concern darkening the man’s brow as he approached. “Is all well?”
“My lady, I beg audience with you.” Sweat poured down his lean cheeks. The air was sharp with his stink.
“Can this matter wait? I have learned Lady Avelina is unwell.”
He hesitated.
“When I return to my chambers, I shall send for you.”
Although his face betrayed a hint of reluctance, he nodded. “I will pray for her recovery, my lady, and I am grateful you have agreed to hear me out. In truth, my concern may prove a small thing. I shall await your summons.” With that, he bowed and turned away.
Bothered by the hesitation she had heard in his reply, she watched him walk back up the path. A good man, she thought, one who was always obedient and never troubled her with petty matters. This time, he had suggested the problem might be a minor issue, and surely murder superseded most common priory concerns.
She continued on to the guest house.
***
Eleanor knocked, noting with pleasure the finely crafted woodwork on this entrance to the recently completed quarters.
The man who opened the door neither spoke nor bowed in greeting. Instead, he stared at her and waited.
She stiffened at such lack of respect. This was Kenard, Lady Avelina’s attendant, and the one whose hooded eyes unsettled her. It was a feature she had always found distasteful, for it brought to mind Eden’s serpent. Now his haughtiness gave her reason to dislike the man even more. She glowered and said nothing.
He bowed.
“Is the Lady Avelina within and able to receive me? I have learned your mistress was much weakened by her arduous journey and wish to offer whatever comforts and healing power we own to hasten her return to health.”
Gesturing for her to enter, the servant disappeared without uttering a single word.
Such unconscionably rude behavior from this servant must be worthy of rebuke. Her office should be honored even if she herself was not, Eleanor thought, and then reminded herself that she had been doing penance enough over the last year for her bristling pride.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her thoughts about the man to grow more charitable. She had been finding far too many reasons of late to argue that her office had suffered insult. Perhaps it was time to stop hiding the sin of pride behind that rightful claim.
The man returned and motioned in silence for her to follow him.
Bowing her head, she did as requested.
***
The room she entered was filled with shadows. Although the linen hangings around the bed had been pulled open to welcome both light and air, the windows were shuttered. Neither sun nor sea breeze could lighten the gloom or sweep away the stagnant odors common to mortal flesh.
Lady Avelina lay on the bed, her back supported by pillows and only a delicate silken quilt of checkerboard pattern covering her.
How frail she looks, Eleanor thought, then quickly decided that the pale shadows might have exaggerated the woman’s infirmity.
“You show much charity in visiting me on this hot day. Please sit, and my servant will bring cool refreshment to revive you.” Avelina pulled herself into a more upright position and pushed at her covering with peevish annoyance. “This heat sucks so hard at the body. Like enough to a ravenous babe. How could anyone have the strength left to walk or even stand?” Recognizing her tone as querulous and ill-mannered, Avelina tilted her head with shamefaced apology and gestured to a nearby chair.
Eleanor noticed it was set, convenient for conversation, near Avelina’s bed, and a small table had been placed close to hand. All had been readied for a guest’s comfort. She eased herself onto the chair and smiled.
Now that she was closer to the woman, the prioress saw that Avelina’s eyes were bright with wit, not fever. Perhaps the lady suffered only from the heat and fatigue of the journey, quite understandable for a woman of later years and heavier body. Indeed, her face had a reddish hue as if burned by the intense sun. How unfortunate that the lady had not been better protected on the long trip here.
Suddenly, out the corner of her eye, Eleanor saw something move and uttered a soft cry of alarm when a hand passed too close by her face.
It was only the servant who had reappeared with a bowl of dried fruit and a pottery jug, glistening with cool moisture even in the sallow light. Eyes half open, he glanced at her, his expression suggesting gratification over her reaction. Quickly, he set the items on the table and stepped back.
Eleanor shivered. Maybe this man was some malign spirit and no proper mortal at all.
He gestured at the pillows and waited for his lady to respond.
Avelina shook her head and dismissed him with words softly spoken.
His shoes scuffling in the lavender-strewn rushes, the man disappeared through the door.
The prioress was beginning to suspect a profound intimacy between servant and lady. Her reasons for concluding this were vague. Perhaps the cause was simply her dislike for Kenard and her disapproval that such a man would be treated with gentle courtesy when he had not offered the same to her.
As if reading the first of Eleanor’s thoughts, Avelina sighed. “Kenard must do all for me while my maid is resting. The girl suffers ill health.”
The prioress nodded. The swiftness with which this explanation was offered suggested the lady had too often made the same excuse. Although Eleanor did not witness any presumptuous look or gesture by the servant, she now realized there had been an ease between these two, most often seen in husband and wife long wedded.
The matter certainly did not concern her, although she did find it curious. Either the servant was in love with his mistress or else worshipped her far more than any mortal ought another. Whether or not the passion was returned, the prioress guessed Lady Avelina was both aware and countenanced it.
“Does your servant not speak at all?” Eleanor gestured in the direction the man had disappeared. As she did, she noticed the door was not quite closed.
“Not since the battle at Evesham. Kenard was my husband’s servant and saw him killed. Since then, he has served me loyally and with competence but has not uttered a word.” She bit slowly into a piece of dried fruit and chewed with the care of one suffering from sore teeth.