For just an instant, Eleanor felt a tinge of envy.
***
The trio passed in silence through the covered cloister walk, keeping a modest distance from the few monks strolling there, and on toward the passage leading into the outer court.
She heard a muffled laugh and glanced quickly over her shoulder. The young monk was smiling in some private amusement. Seeing her turn to him, he looked down quickly. Had he noted the effect he had on her? Was that the source of his mirth? She scowled, hoping he noted her severity just as well. Then her own eyes turned traitor and quickly feasted on all of him from head to foot before she was able to drag her gaze back to a more seemly concentration on the stone walk at her feet.
He did look more suited to charger and armor than cowl and tonsure. Still, tonsured and cowled he was, whatever the true reason for his recent calling. She certainly did not believe the glib tale he had told her. He had shown a courtly manner and physical comfort with his body rarely found in younger monks. Although he towered over both Sister Ruth and Eleanor, he seemed in control of his size and strength and kept an easy, slow pace behind her as they walked into the dark, narrow passage under the monks’ dormitory and up to the heavy wooden door.
“This is the path you will take when you come to serve us. And you will use it to return when you are done.” Eleanor inserted a large key, unlocked the door, then turned and handed the key to Thomas. “This is now yours as priest to my nuns and the sick. Besides you, Prior Theobald has such a key and Brother Andrew also because he is porter. Of the nuns, only Sister Ruth as porteress, Sister Christina and Sister Anne, who are both in charge of the hospital, and I may have such keys. Please keep it safe and lend it to no one. These locked doors keep us protected from the world.” Eleanor heard a sharp intake of breath from the nun beside her and winced. At least the doors had done so until the death of Brother Rupert, she thought.
“I will take you to the hospital before the crowner comes and introduce you to Sister Christina, the infirmarian. Sister Anne, her assistant, you will meet shortly. Until I can review the assignments of all the brothers at Tyndal, your duties will include service to the sick as well as priest for the nuns.”
As they walked through the gate and approached the church, Eleanor pointed out the sacristy door that led to the priests’ changing room and the altar. When they approached the entrance to the nuns’ cloister, Brother Thomas bowed to Sister Ruth, who stepped back so he could take her place by the prioress’ side.
“Since you have already examined the body, my lady, what specifically do you wish me to look for?”
Eleanor turned so quickly he almost trod on her.
“I did not mean…”
Eleanor was pleased that he looked abashed as he stumbled backward. At least there was little aggression to fear in the man. One prone to violence would have looked angry to be placed so suddenly at disadvantage.
She smiled with pleasure at her impromptu trick and at his flustered reaction, then nodded acceptance of the apology.
The boyish grin he gave in return was not only ingenuous but also calculated, Eleanor decided. The look did not extend to his expressionless eyes. Nonetheless, unwanted warmth rushed once again to her face. She quickly turned away from him and walked in determined silence to the nuns’ gate, unlocked it with her own key, and led the two others into the cloister garth. As they reached the fountain where Sister Anne guarded the body, Eleanor finally stopped and turned to Thomas.
“Your opinion and observations, brother, would be both welcome and useful. Indeed Sister Anne and I did examine the body quite thoroughly. However, if the crowner is like most, he would more likely listen to the details and take them more seriously from you than from us. The world outside our small Order is unaccustomed to open female command and for me to assert this unusual authority as head of Tyndal might so unsettle him that he could be distracted from a timely pursuit of justice. I understand he has never had occasion to visit here before. I trust we will never have to invite him to our priory again. Therefore, in the interest of a clear-eyed, efficient hunt for the person who did this horrible thing to our brother, I think the issue of who runs Tyndal may remain a moot one.”
“If I may be so blunt, my lady, you show rare judgement for…”
“A woman?”
“For any child born of sin.”
Clever man with words you are, Eleanor thought and could not help smiling at him. She might fear Thomas and the unwelcome feelings and confusion he caused her, but she did like his quick wit.
Chapter Nine
Thomas retched. The sight of Brother Rupert’s mutilated corpse had turned his stomach despite his brave words to the contrary. If he’d been alone in the garth, he probably would have instantly vomited the good wine he had just enjoyed, but he would never show such weakness before women. Now that he was by himself, he could throw up in peace. Bracing against the stone wall, he retched again into the tall grass.
Still sweating, he shook his head. How two women could have examined that body with apparent composure and thoroughness was beyond his understanding. He at least had seen death in some of its uglier forms; neither stabbings nor poisonings were pretty, but to castrate a man like that?
“What horrible thing could an old priest have done to warrant such treatment? And who could have defiled him so?” He spat. Such desecration of manhood was usually reserved for the most hated of men. Traitors to a king came first to mind, although there was Abelard who’d been gelded as well as that unfortunate lover of a nun at Watton Priory.
After some dry heaving, nothing was left in his stomach. Thomas kicked up some dirt and tore some of the dry grass to cover his leavings, then locked the door to the nuns’ quarters and headed down the gravel path to the monks’ lodgings. At the nave of the church, he stopped and looked up at the granite and slate building. Moss streaked the shadowed stone and blackened what might once have been colored light gray. The windows over the high altar were narrow and dingy, and something brown was growing from the corners and joinings which must further inhibit light from illuminating the inside of the church.
“What cold and soggy land have I been sent to?” he asked himself. A sudden chill shook Thomas in the afternoon sun. Damp and mold permeated all. Everything reeked of gradual but inevitable decay. A black mood descended on him, and the manner of Brother Rupert’s death seemed in keeping with the ambiance of the place.
Just as his thoughts grew grim, he looked around, then smiled in spite of his sad temper at the incongruity he had just observed. Women might run Fontevraud houses but they still lived to the north of the church, the side that symbolized benightedness, while the very monks they ruled lived on the south, the side of enlightenment. What did his new prioress think of that? Had she even noticed it? He shook his head. A more apt question would be whether there was much of anything she hadn’t observed.
A single cloud scudded across the sun, briefly darkening the day with its shadow. Thomas watched as more clouds followed the first, dark bottomed and close to the earth. Rain was coming, he decided, as he felt the air turn slightly damp against his skin. He turned away from the nave and walked on.
“Surely the prioress has recognized what a strong adversary she has in Brother Simeon,” Thomas muttered. “Now there is a man who shows very traditional views on whether it is Adam or Eve who should rule. He would have no doubts that men were the more capable sex and that women should be guided by them.”
How did such a man ever become a member of this religious order, founded in seeming defiance of established wisdom? Thomas shook his head. Perhaps he had arrived as a child and been more willing in his youth to obey a woman’s command. If so, he had clearly changed in the passing years. Thomas had seen how little the now forceful monk cared for the equally forceful new prioress. “Without question, there will be a struggle for supremacy between the two. Perhaps I should not wager on which will win,” he said into the dank wind.