“Presumably you can find your confessor better than you could find the privy. Profanity is unacceptable in a man dedicated to God. You must have known that long before you took your vows.”
Thomas covered his face with his hands.
Sister Anne turned to Eleanor. “He hurts, my lady.”
The prioress drew in a deep breath, let it out very slowly, and started again with a gentler tone.
“I know you are in pain, brother, but we need the truth if we’re to prevent more violence. First, we had Brother Rupert’s death, and now we’ve had the attack on you. We don’t need a third such incident because you are suffering from the sin of pride.”
Thomas nodded. Ralf and the prioress were right. It hadn’t been that clear to him that the two incidents were related, but he did not want someone else killed or injured. Still, what truth could he tell? What made sense and what should he or even could he explain?
He remembered following Brother John and the young man as they ran out of the chapel. Following them had been an instinctive act; thus the reason he had done so was quite inexplicable. Nor was he sure he wanted to try. He might be chary of the somber monk with glittering green eyes, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell what he had witnessed either. The scene between monk and youth had been intimate, poignant. Thomas’ interest had been piqued for sure, but he also felt protective of them.
Perhaps there had been no sin between the two, although the observed encounter rather lent itself to the darker interpretation. The youth he had seen with the monk was no high-voiced child. He had had the shoulders and height, if not the girth, of a man. No, he thought, he would never be guilty of doing to another what had been done to him. Thomas shook his head to shatter the image of Giles in his arms and turned his thoughts back to what had happened outside Tyndal Priory.
It had been difficult to see far in the outer court. Clouds or fog had drifted across the sky. The moon gave only meager light and the stars were hidden from view. The area was still strange to him, and he had stumbled on the unfamiliar, rough ground as he tried to keep the shadows of monk and youth in sight.
He remembered crossing a small wooden bridge below which he assumed must be the priory mill from the sound of groaning wood and splashing water. Then he had seen the silhouette of the mill itself. It loomed blacker than the night along what had suddenly become a smoother, well-worn path.
Distracted by his attempt to keep his bearings, he had tripped. As he picked himself up, he saw the two had gained on him, their outlines growing fainter in the distance. Then he spotted them as they opened a creaking gate in the wall. It must have been used by the townspeople who had need of the mill, he guessed. Perhaps a monk or lay brother guarded it during the day, but there was none such to be seen in the gloom of that night.
When he passed through the gate, however, the shadows he was chasing had vanished. There was no sign of them to either left or right. Ahead of him was the forest.
He stopped, held his breath to keep the hoarse sound from masking what he hoped to hear. His ears were straining, listening for any sound of human life.
Nothing.
Then he heard something, deer or man, running through brush. He raced headlong into the trees, but they had slowed and confused him. Soon he knew he was lost. Sweating and tired, Thomas had lurched through snagging vines and rotting tree limbs until he came into a clearing of sorts. He stopped and tried to get his bearings, staring into the dark, moving shadows for two more. The shapes he saw were eerie impish things, not human, which seemed to reach out to him and snatch at his cowl and habit.
He remembered taking a deep breath, then hearing the gurgling of a brook nearby. And just as he thought he detected the sound of hushed voices above the noise of the water, something hit him, forcing a cry of surprised pain from him as he fell into the soft leaf mold and slipped into total oblivion.
So what could he tell the crowner and Prioress Eleanor? If the voices he thought he had heard were those of the lad and the monk, then the man who hit him was a stranger. If he had imagined the voices, then monk was still the most likely suspect. Perhaps the less said, the better, Thomas decided. For the moment.
“You are long silent, brother.” Ralf was looking at him with curiosity.
“I was trying to remember what had happened, crowner, but I fear I can summon up little.” Thomas nodded to the prioress. “Indeed, it was not a call of nature, my lady, but I was shamed by my foolishness in leaving the passage door open. The truth is simple enough. I was unable to sleep and slipped down to the chapel to pray, but my body was restless and sleep still would not come. So I did what I used to do as a boy and took a short walk, albeit outside the priory walls. I had no evil purpose. I am not yet familiar enough with the priory to know where I could walk and meditate without disturbing others at such a dark hour.”
That much, Thomas thought, was reasonably true.
“When I entered the forest, I became confused but when I came to the clearing, I stopped. I thought I heard a brook and remembered that such ran through the priory. Just as I was thinking I could follow it back to the grounds, something hit me and I remember nothing more.”
“What was the first thing you do remember?” Ralf asked.
“I was cold. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and someone turned me over. The morning light hurt but I was able to see Brother John’s face clearly.” Thomas laughed. “Indeed my head hurt worse than it did the time I fell down some stone steps as a boy when I was wrestling with…” With Giles, he thought, and winced.
“And still does, I see,” said Sister Anne with such a steady look that Thomas feared she could see into his very soul, stained as it was with half-truths, lies, and dreams of Giles.
Thomas turned his head away.
“And when did you leave the chapel, brother?” asked Ralf.
“It was long after Matins but before Prime,” Thomas replied. “I felt the sharpness of the morning mist and saw it covering the stars.”
“Indeed, Brother John found you not long after Prime,” Eleanor said. She seemed lost in thought, her chin in her hand as she looked at him. He could read nothing in her gray eyes.
“Not much to go by, son, but at least you are alive and lucky indeed to have the good care of Sister Anne at the hospital here.” Ralf glanced over at the tall nun. His smile as he looked at her was surprisingly gentle for such a rough man.
Despite the look from her that made him fear she saw all his secrets, Thomas could understand how a man might become fond of such a remarkable woman as Sister Anne. For all her unfeminine candor and logical mind, the nun had gentle hands and thoughtful ways. Her binding of his wound had been quick, almost painless, and she had not only given him a soothing mixture to aid sleep but also a comfortable bed last night well away from those so sick they moaned despite her herbs and calming draughts. In truth, he had slept well.
Although he had had two strange dreams, which made him wonder what had been in that sleeping potion to cause such fantastic imaginings. The first one was almost spectral. In his dream, Thomas had opened his eyes and seen nothing but darkness. All was quiet in the blackness except for the low, uneasy muttering of the sleeping sick. Then, through the opening of the screen which gave him privacy, he saw two shadowy forms standing close together in whispered discussion and softly silhouetted by the light of the candles each held. When one figure moved his taper, Thomas recognized Brother John. The monk’s murmuring was rapid and intense, and although Thomas could not hear what either said, he recognized Sister Anne’s voice when she briefly responded.
Thomas looked around but saw no sign of another sister, monk or lay person present and remembered thinking that surely it was not allowed for the two to be together without proper attendance. Then Brother John put his hand on Sister Anne’s shoulder and kissed her on the cheek before slipping away into the darkness. Thomas must have fallen back into his deep sleep for he remembered nothing more of them.