“Do you need me to stay, my lady?” Sister Ruth asked in a tone that suggested she most heartily wished to be anywhere else.
“I do. The good prior is going to tell me what lands are owned by Tyndal and what our income is from each. Since you have resided in the priory for more years than any other sister, you are the most knowledgeable person here and should be present when we discuss our financial health. Someone of competence must be as fully informed as I am should I suddenly be called away. As you are the one most qualified, I am appointing you sub-prioress and you shall act as such henceforth. Another sister will be selected to be porteress.”
Sister Ruth’s expression first suggested that she had just taken a bite of rotten meat, then that she was rather surprised she had.
“Please ask the good prior to wait while I ready myself.” She nodded dismissal to the new sub-prioress.
As Ruth stomped out of the chambers and Gytha returned, Eleanor gestured for the girl to come to her side. The young girl quickly turned and stuck her tongue out at the older nun’s retreating back.
Eleanor decided to pretend she hadn’t seen the gesture. “I had forgotten I had requested an examination of Tyndal’s account rolls today,” she said, “but I want to appear as if I had expected them and should enter with full dignity.” Eleanor noted the concerned frown on the girl’s face. “Help me up, child. I won’t fall. Sometimes we must do things which hurt to achieve a higher purpose.”
Indeed it did hurt to walk the short distance from her reading lectern to the public room, but once Eleanor had settled into her raised chair, the wrinkles of pain smoothed away and she gestured for the monks to approach.
“My lady!” The men spoke in unison and bowed. Andrew dropped a few scrolls, his bad leg clearly paining him as he stooped to pick them up. He was ignored by Brother Simeon, who concentrated on easing Prior Theobald into the chair indicated by Eleanor. She knew it was vindictive of her, but she offered the large monk not a chair but a seat on the bench at the table next to Andrew. It was her way of putting Simeon in his place after he had so rudely disregarded her during their first meeting.
He looked surprised and a bit confused.
She felt sinfully pleased.
Gytha served cool wine in glazed pottery cups from a simple pewter pitcher, and Eleanor noted the slightly fuller one given to Brother Andrew, who glanced up at the girl, then at the prioress, with amused pleasure. As the men drank and shifted, she decided she would not bother to pretend, beyond the demands of courtesy, that the prior knew anything about the financial situation of Tyndal.
In fact, she probably knew more than he. Prioress Joan of Amesbury had told her what lands were owned by Tyndal and what other assets the priory had before she left to take this new office. Pretending greater ignorance was a ploy intended to find out what she would be told and how. In truth, all she needed to establish was whether the stewardship had been proper, despite the drop in revenues, and whether all resources had been used as efficiently as possible. Courtesy did demand, however, that she address Theobald first.
“Prior Theobald. I appreciate your attendance, and, as I informed you, I would like a summary of our holdings and the income thereof.”
Theobald coughed and grasped his cross, an habitual gesture which Eleanor was beginning to learn meant he felt inadequate to whatever task he was called upon to do.
“I have brought our receiver, Brother Simeon, to provide the information you requested, my lady. His eyes are better than mine, you see, and he is better suited to read the documents to you and interpret their meaning.”
Eleanor glanced up at the large monk. His expression was quite smug.
“Indeed, Prior, your thoughtful preparation is most impressive, and I shall accept the work Brother Simeon has done in preparation for my questions. Perhaps you did not know, however, that I am capable of both reading text and comprehending numbers.”
“The wording of the charters is in Latin, my lady.” Simeon’s expression had changed but minimally.
“I also read Latin, brother, but I will be pleased to accept your detailed review since Prior Theobald has assigned that work to you. In the future, Prior, I will be happy to accept whomever you assign to provide the information I request.” Eleanor nodded in Theobald’s direction. “I sympathize with the burden it must put on your eyes which have been strained in the many years of service you have given to Our Lord.”
Theobald sighed and lowered his head in a sign of gratitude at her concern and his escape from responsibility. “Indeed, my lady, my eyes have aged in His service.”
“Brother Simeon, please do begin.”
Brother Simeon did not make the process either simple or short. In fact, Eleanor got the distinct impression he wished to make his presentation so convoluted that she, lesser vessel that she was presumed to be, would either feel obliged to accept his information as fact or give in out of frustration and irritated fatigue.
Eleanor was no lesser vessel. Tyndal was her responsibility and, although she was willing to accept Simeon’s past reputation in running the estates in view of the official reviews done on his account rolls, he had to prove his competence now and explain, to her satisfaction, the recent reduction in income. She was also determined to teach him that what might have worked with the good prior and the former prioress was not going to work with her. Rhetoric was lovely in its place, but its place was not in the reporting of figures and balances. Those required clarity. He would learn that she demanded no less. Annoyed, Eleanor stretched out her hand.
“Let me see the charter, brother. I cannot believe that we own the land on which the forest grows but received nothing from the timber removed from it. To my knowledge, we have not given King Henry a gift of trees for any ship. Have we?”
The charter he handed her had sweat stains on it.
She pointed to one line. “See here. It says we have full ownership of the…”
“My lady, I did not mean we received no income from the sale of timber. I only meant that we granted the poor of the village the right once a year to gather fallen branches free of any charge.”
Eleanor looked steadily at the monk. His face was glistening and red from the effort of answering her pointed questions.
“Then say so, brother. I do not count good stewardship by the number of words you use to describe it. I like precision, accuracy and supporting documents.”
She glanced down at one of those documents, which showed the accounting of rental income from one of the priory grants, and sighed. She would have to get used to his crabbed numbers and awkward letters. Wherever the good monk learned to write, he had not been taught either grace or legibility in the skills.
“Very well, brother. I will keep the charters with me to study further.”
Brother Andrew sighed softly and smiled, then quickly raised his hand to hide his mouth.
“But I am concerned with the share of produce sales we are receiving. I do not believe they are high enough to guarantee the income we will need to buy provisions for the coming winter. Our own garden has failed to yield what it should for our needs and we will be forced to buy additional food.”
“Indeed, my lady, crops have not been what we hoped this year from the priory farms either.” Brother Simeon took a large drink from his goblet. His eyes were glazed and he looked fatigued.
“In truth? I had heard otherwise about our farms in the area.”
“I cannot speak to what you may have heard, my lady. I can only say that I have not seen any farm producing what we had either hoped or expected.”
“Then we must either eat less this winter or conserve in other ways. Perhaps on wine purchases this fall. We do make our own ale, I believe.” Eleanor smiled as she watched the fleshy monk pale. Was it the reduction in unpalatable food he abhorred or the prospect of a winter without a fine Gascony wine to warm him? Prior Theobald, she noted, had drifted off to sleep some time ago and, from the look of his thin body, would have been disinterested in the lessening of either. Sister Ruth had thoughtfully, and with gentleness, inserted a pillow between his head and the chair.