“Is anyone there?” she asked.
Silence.
Cautiously, she extended the point of the broken branch and pushed the mat aside.
No one was there.
She pulled the mat away. It covered a narrow entrance between rock and bank to a cave, presumably gouged out by the stream and deep enough to provide shelter for two or three people. Had the boulder not been there to brace it, she thought, looking up at the huge trunk above her head, the tree would have fallen and the remaining roots would have ripped away the roof of the small cave, destroying the shelter entirely.
As she looked further into the enclosure, she could see marks in the walls where nature’s results had been deliberately enlarged. There was no sign of a fire or utensils for cooking, but there was a narrow, raised, and sturdy wooden bed frame with a clean straw mat and some pegs jammed into the earthen wall. Over one peg was hung what appeared to be a small whip.
Eleanor hopped awkwardly up to the peg and looked with care at the object in the dim light. There was no question that it was a crude whip made of twigs bundled together. It was darkly stained. Was this blood?
“Whatever is this all for?” she asked quietly as she fingered the stiff switches and looked around the small space.
She shuddered, then spoke aloud to calm herself with the sound of a human voice. “This is something for the crowner to look at, not me. And, methinks, I would be wise to leave!”
She pushed the mat aside and hobbled into the feathered sunlight, but the shadows playing on the sparkling water were no longer beautiful and the utter silence of the birds was ominous.
Eleanor looked around quickly. There was no one and nothing to be seen. Bracing herself with her makeshift crutch, she bent and replaced the rock that had held the mat down. With the mat securely anchored and pushed into the shadows of the narrow opening, she realized that the cave entrance was barely visible.
As she straightened, adjusting the branch to support her weight, she heard a rustling sound just above her and looked up.
Standing on the bank above her, a bearded and unkempt man stared at her for what seemed a very long time, a knife glinting in his hand. His left hand, Eleanor observed with the icy precision of fear.
Then he turned and ran. Eleanor stood frozen in place until the sound of his escape, crashing through the brush, had faded into the sound of the stream flowing beside her.
And in that instant, she understood what it meant to meet Death face to face.
Chapter Eighteen
Sister Anne stood up, hands on hips, and looked at her prioress with undisguised disapproval. “If I may be so blunt, my lady…”
“And you may, sister.”
“You put yourself in unnecessary danger out there beyond the priory today. Although I agree that you may have found something of interest, perhaps even of great value to our crowner in his investigations, the risk you took was, well, rash.”
Eleanor was sitting in her chambers with her injured foot bound and propped on a stool, a goblet of watered wine at hand and Arthur in her lap. She sighed.
“Blunt indeed, but tactful considering. Let me speak your true thoughts. I was reckless, thoughtless, and stupid to do what I did.”
Anne nodded, then smiled.
“And I have learned my lesson. I was quite happy to send word to our crowner and let him investigate the cave more thoroughly.” Eleanor shifted slightly, and the cat meowed with instant feline annoyance.
“Let me take him.” Anne reached out. “His added weight is not helpful to you.”
“Let him be.” Eleanor looked fondly at the furry creature. “He has a soothing softness.”
Sister Anne started to laugh, then stopped. There was a sharp rap at the chamber door, and she turned toward it with a frown.
“Enter,” Eleanor called out.
Gytha rushed in and curtseyed awkwardly. “My lady, the crowner is here. He begs an audience with you.”
“He has done his investigation quickly,” Eleanor said, turning to Anne and raising her eyebrows in surprise.
Gytha spun around on one foot and was about to speed out the door.
“Gytha! A moment, if you please. I will need you to provide refreshment for the good man.”
“Shall I bring bread as well as wine, my lady?”
“And cheese. He will need something to regain his strength after all his efforts. And perhaps something for…” She pointed to the cat. “I understand he brought three fine dead rats to Sister Edith today.”
“Who squealed loud enough the whole priory knew of his success at the hunt!” Gytha giggled, then rushed from the room to fetch the food.
“Such energy!” Eleanor chuckled.
“Such youth,” Sister Anne sighed.
***
Ralf stood over the heavy wooden table and, with ravenous eagerness, eyed the already razed stack of bread and hacked mound of cheese set before him. “Blood it was on the whip. I’m sure of it,” he said as he reached out with his stained knife to spear another piece of deep orange cheese. He wrapped a hefty chunk of fresh bread around it before taking a huge bite. “I’m grateful for this, my lady. Haven’t been able to break my fast yet today.” Crumbs flew as he chomped at the food with dogged enthusiasm.
Eleanor glanced up at the angle of light coming through her window. The day was well into the afternoon hours. “Do sit and relax. I can wait for a report,” she replied.
Anne rolled her eyes heavenward with gentle amusement as she watched the crowner saw off another slab of cheese.
Ralf shook his head. “If I sit, I’ll fall asleep.” Then he took another monstrous bite and couldn’t quite close his mouth as he chewed. “I must say that the purpose of the cave is still puzzling.” He continued munching cheerfully, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk with a winter’s cache in its mouth.
Eleanor took a sip of wine. “What are your thoughts on it?”
Ralf paused for a brief second in mid-chew. “My first thought was that it was a hideaway for a villein running away from his lord, but the pegs suggested it was being used for more than a temporary hiding spot. They and the raised bed were not things a poor tenant farmer on the run would bother with. At most he might make a mat of leaves or a pallet of dried grass.”
“Did you find any evidence of cooking?”
“No evidence of fire at all, or discarded bones from eating, and that was passing strange as well.” Ralf shook his head. “The whip did make me wonder about one possibility. Have you heard of any hermit recently come to the area?”
Eleanor looked up at Anne, who shook her head. “No. We have heard of no one. I would not expect a hermit to make himself an elevated bed either. Although, now that you raise the question, I wonder about the man I saw.”
“Surely a hermit would have come to us by now, my lady. He would want to have the services of one of our priests,” Anne suggested.
“I wish I had gotten a better look at the man before he ran from me. Perhaps the cave was his. I also find it strange that the sight of a mere nun would frighten him so.”
“A bearded man with long hair and brindled clothes would match most of the men from the village.” Ralf grunted. “Fishermen and men who work the fields care not for fashion. And the knife does not surprise me. Perhaps he didn’t mean to threaten you at all. Perhaps he was cleaning a bird or some wild animal he’d just killed, but running from you does surprise me. The sight of a nun should not be surprising or strange to anyone in the area. The townspeople have all benefited from your hospital and they come to your church for services. Unless he ran because he did not expect to see a nun alone and did not know what he should do? Perhaps he feared God’s wrath if he spoke to you.”
“He did not necessarily know I was alone. Indeed, he would have expected someone to be with me. He might have been surprised to see a nun where he did not think to see one, but he would have had no reason to run unless he was afraid. Or had something to hide.”