“Or it might have been a true son of Satan,” the crowner suggested.
“My aunt at Amesbury once told me that the demons we are unable to see or recognize are of far greater danger to our souls than those we can. I will ask my nun to view the corpse, but I will have Brother Thomas accompany her lest she need protection from otherworldly dangers. Indeed I fear she may remember all too vividly the image of her terror in recognizing the cause of it. Would you come as well? You should note her reaction and not hear it second-hand from me.”
“I will be there even if the corpse proves to be unholy and Satan himself comes to protect one of his own. Tell me, my lady, do you think there is a connection between this death and Brother Rupert’s? I do, yet it is a question, the answer to which eludes me.”
“And eludes me too. Something is indeed deeply amiss here. That something caused our dead man to both run in terror from the cave, yet be drawn back again; to run in fear from me at the village, yet come back to Tyndal, only to be found dead on the priory grounds as was our good monk.”
“I would not dismiss Satan’s hand in the incomprehensible, my lady.”
“Nor I, good Crowner, but if Satan has sent his minion to Tyndal, he remains quite invisible to us all.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sister Matilda screamed.
Brother Thomas held the cross in a tight grip, both hands stretched rigidly in front of him. Ralf stood behind him, eyes as unblinking and dry as if they had been painted on his face.
Eleanor pulled the wild-eyed nun into her arms, pushing her head into the curve of her neck so she could no longer see the body.
“Hush, sister! There is nothing to fear. Brother Thomas has the Evil One at bay with the cross in his hands. We are safe.”
“It is the very Devil who burst from the earth. He has found me!” The nun’s cries were muffled, but Eleanor could feel her body shaking with terror.
“He is powerless against you, bound as he is in the chapel near the altar, sister.” Eleanor gestured to Thomas to follow her out, then turned and pulled the trembling nun away with great gentleness. “We shall leave, and I promise you will never see him again.”
Sister Anne was waiting outside the door as the four emerged into the fading light. She helped Eleanor seat Sister Matilda, then gave the nun, whose eyes were now tightly shut against the sight of any further horrors, a drink from a cup she had close at hand.
“She needs to sleep, my lady,” Sister Anne whispered. “I will have someone sit with her tonight in case she wakes from evil dreams, but with this potion I think she will sleep well.”
Eleanor, short as she was, took the sitting nun’s head and pulled it close to her breast and gently rocked her. “You did a brave thing tonight, Sister Matilda. I believe you will rest now, and, in the morning, we will walk together in the garden after chapter and speak of your return to grace from this penance you have endured.”
Sister Matilda turned to look up at the prioress, her eyes already unfocused from the draught the sub-infirmarian had given her. “Penance, my lady? I did penance?”
“You did indeed! Remember? It was for your pride. Now that you have done this thing tonight, I believe you may be relieved of your work in the garden.”
The nun sat up and swayed, her face filled with blissful relief and joy.
“Say nothing more, my child. It is your duty now to sleep. We will speak in the morning.”
Sister Anne gestured, and a lay sister came out of the shadows. They whispered together for a moment, then the lay sister and Sister Matilda wobbled away in the general direction of the hospital.
“I will stand just there until you need me,” Sister Anne said, gesturing to a yew tree a little distance away.
Eleanor turned to Brother Thomas. “You look shaken yourself, brother.” She meant it kindly, but she saw him stiffen. “It is one thing to cross swords with a human enemy, but yet another to face Satan himself,” she added quickly. “Your courage was impressive.”
“I faced a corpse, not Satan, my lady.” His expression was unreadable.
“You did not know that when I asked you to protect us against a possible demon.” Eleanor wanted to reach out, take his hand, and clutch it to her as she had the terrified nun. The sweet pain she felt at the thought of his hand on her breast was less than chaste. She dropped her gaze, and there was silence between them.
“As you will. I am here to serve and am pleased if I served as you wished.”
“You served well, brother.” Eleanor took a deep breath and looked up. “I have one thing more to ask of you.”
Thomas bowed his head in silence.
“Should you see or hear anything of note in the matter of this death as you perform your tasks, I would hear of it, and hear of it first. Anything unusual. Anything out of place. We are both new here, but I have learned that you are a thoughtful and observant man. Crowner Ralf can only search the outside world for signs of this murder and that of Brother Rupert. I need your skills for noting anything untoward within our priory, especially amongst the monks and lay brothers.”
“Aye,” Ralf said. “I concur, good brother.”
Had the light not so failed that his face was in shadow, Eleanor might have seen Brother Thomas turn pale before he nodded agreement.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The rock bounced off the stone walls of the priory, and the curse spat after it was quite Anglo-Saxon.
“Who knows me here? Who is her spy?” Thomas snarled, as he threw another rock in impotent rage at the priory. “And what fool gave a woman the right to order men around? Unnatural, it is. This whole place is fucking unnatural!”
This rock shattered. Thomas sat down on the ground and put his head in his hands. He was shaking, but rage no longer masked his fear. Indeed, he had been afraid when the prioress had told him to come to the chapel and hold a cross against any demon still residing in the corpse of the man he had found.
And when Sister Matilda screamed, he thought he had seen a Son of Darkness rise from the body, smelling of smoke, his grinning image flickering in the candlelight. Thomas would have sworn to that. And when he held the cross in front of him, for cert he had heard the thing sigh before it disappeared, then all he heard was the calm prioress crooning to the nun in her arms as if she held a baby there, not an adult woman. Truth to tell, there was a instant when Thomas wished she would soothe him as well, but, along with the innocence of childhood, he knew he had also lost the right to such a comfort for himself.
Thomas began to sob, his body shaking uncontrollably. He had wept little since he was a small boy, yet in this place dedicated to peace and God, tears came to him easily and often. “Aye!” he cried into his hands. “She is a better man than I. I hate her for it!”
In truth, he did not hate the prioress. Had she been a man of the world, he would have admired her coolness. Had she been a prior, he might have sat at her feet and begged to learn how she blended her piety with pragmatism. Had she even been a saintly woman, he could have worshiped her holiness. She was none of those, but rather a young and earthy woman who was so very different from all the others he had ever known. He did not understand her at all, but he did respect her.
Whatever could he tell her? What was pertinent and what would be the betrayal of secrets with no relevance to these crimes? As Brother Andrew had said, many inhabitants of Tyndal had secrets buried in their hearts. Those were things between them and their God, as far as Thomas was concerned, and of no moment to mortal men, even to prioresses. Someone had a very dark secret, however, and that secret must have led to murder.
Should he speak of Brother John and his solitary penance in the forest clearing? Or of his own suspicions that the monk might have a youthful lover, a lad perhaps from the village? The consequences were dire if two men were found, as Thomas had been with Giles, and brought to trial. Men had been burned at the stake for it. Excommunication was common. Thomas shivered. He might have escaped all this himself either by the grace of God or Satan, but few did and he would never point a finger at another man for a love he could not even now condemn. Were the things he had seen or suspected about Brother John even related to the two murders, or were they unconnected? He did not know.