“Perhaps she will see the error of her ways, when she has gained some distance from these horrible events, and be guided by you in the future.”
Simeon snorted and marched ahead. His anger, it seemed, had burned away the effects of too much unwatered wine. His step was now firm.
As Thomas stood and watched the man, he sighed. He doubted the good prioress would ever listen to Brother Simeon in the manner he wished, and Thomas thought it equally unlikely that Simeon would ever become reconciled to his new subservient role. In the meantime, Thomas wondered about Brother John’s guilt. He had been surprised to learn that he and Sister Anne had once been married. From what he had observed, he doubted that the monk was a threat to any woman’s chastity, even his own wife’s. He must learn more of what Simeon knew.
Thomas gathered up his robes and ran after the receiver.
***
“It is all my fault,” Gytha wailed.
As soon as Sister Anne had left the prioress’s chambers, Gytha had knocked at the door and begged for a private audience. Eleanor was beginning to wonder if God had suddenly changed the rule prohibiting women from being priests, with so many confessions crowding in on her.
Gytha now stood in front of Eleanor with her head bowed.
“Child, you should have told this to Crowner Ralf, but you are not to blame for what has happened. Indeed, you warned me of the distrust between village and priory. Although I listened, I failed to hear with my whole heart what you were telling me.”
“Neither my brother nor I meant to do wrong, my lady.”
Eleanor cut some bread and cheese, then pushed the serving across the table toward the young girl. “Sit. Eat. And tell me all, child.”
“There is little but that Tostig knew who the dead man was. He was not a village man but he had worked on Tyndal’s farms and came to our market days. My brother knew him from that.”
“And when he died on our grounds, all believed one of the monks had killed him?”
Gytha nodded. “Some did for cert.”
“Why?”
“Brother Rupert visited him not long after Prioress Felicia died. After that, Eadnoth refused to go near either priory or farm. He wouldn’t say why but he acted like a badly frightened man. Some said he was losing his wits, a few that he was possessed, but many more thought that someone in the priory had threatened him.”
Eleanor stood up, got another cup from the cabinet, poured some wine into it and watered it well. “You are not eating, child. I do not want you ill over this. And drink the wine. It will strengthen you.” She watched while Gytha took a small bite and then another. “Did I not promise you that no harm would ever come from telling me the truth, however hard it might be for me to hear it. It grieves me that so many fear the inhabitants of the priory because most of us are Normans. Perhaps they do not know that not all of us are, although your brother should. Whatever the case, we are all children of God and equal in His sight, whether we be Saxon, Norman, or even a Scot or a wild Welshman,” Eleanor said, trying to make Gytha smile.
“Sometimes that has been forgotten, my lady.” The girl’s expression remained solemn.
“During the time of Prioress Felicia?”
“She was a kindly woman and meant well. Brother Rupert was gentle and ministered to the spiritual needs of everyone without hesitation. Neither seemed comfortable in dealings with the secular world, despite all that, and they did little to protect us from those who were harsher in their commerce with us.”
“And who might that be?”
“Brother Simeon was one. He did not treat us as if we were all equal in the sight of God. When crops failed or sickness came or times were hard for other reasons, he called us sinful creatures that deserved whatever evil had befallen us. He gave no mercy in the matter of tithes. When we took our complaints to Prioress Felicia, she told us to see Prior Theobald. And when we spoke with him, he would just shake his head in sadness and say that the world was full of evil and grief or that mortal men were weak creatures in need of greater prayer. Homilies but no action.”
Eleanor shook her head. “And Brother John?” she asked with sadness in her voice.
Gytha put her head in her hands. “Brother John is a good man like Brother Rupert was. I cannot believe he is guilty of murder! Must he die like Brother Rupert and Eadnoth? Is the end of the world coming that good men now die like dogs, even in a community dedicated to God?”
Eleanor’s eyes widened in shock. She reached over to take the young girl’s hand. “Don’t be afraid! If Brother John is innocent, he will not die. Evil may have attacked this house of God, but this house is not evil. I swear it on my own honor!”
Gytha squeezed her hand and wiped her cheeks dry. “My brother did say your coming to Tyndal might bode well for change. He…”
There was a sharp rap at the chamber door. The prioress straightened up and answered with anger in her voice.
Sister Ruth entered, pushing a dirty young fellow about Gytha’s age at arm’s length in front of her. The lines of her scowl were so deeply etched into her forehead they were black.
“This foul-smelling creature demanded entry. I tried to keep him out, but he would not take my nay for an answer. Fa, but he stinks!” The nun stepped backwards in disgust.
The lad did smell like something rotting. His clothes were rags and his shoulders and chest were bursting what few seams held. Tears had cleaned two paths down his blackened cheeks. Gytha started at the sight of him
“Your name, my son?” Eleanor asked, reaching out her hand.
“Eadmund, the son of Eadnoth.” He hawked and spat at the sight of the prioress’s proffered hand. Although his body was not fully fleshed and muscled, his voice was that of a man.
Sister Ruth started to cuff the young man for his rudeness, then withdrew her hand when she realized she would have to touch his filthy cheek.
Gytha had no such qualms. She reached over and shoved him so hard he rocked back on his heels. “Show some manners, Eadmund!”
Eleanor looked back at Gytha with a silent question in her eyes.
“He is a good lad, my lady, for all his ill manners.”
“Then leave us with our thanks, Sister Ruth, and we will hear what he has to say.”
“My lady, it is not safe to leave you alone with such a ruffian.”
“Then get Brother Jo…Thomas, who may be in the sacristy still. He can wait outside my door in case of need.”
Sister Ruth rushed from the room so quickly she left the chamber door open. Eleanor rose and slowly shut it.
“Will you have something to eat, my son?” she said and pointed at the food still on the table.
He looked ravenously at the hunk of cheese and bread but angrily shook his head from side to side.
“If I were to guess, lad, I’d say you hadn’t eaten in awhile. Please take something.”
“I take nothing from the priory.”
“Eadmund!” Gytha said, putting her hands on her hips. “You cannot eat pride, and Prioress Eleanor will not hurt you.”
The lad looked wildly back and forth between Eleanor and Gytha, then charged at the table, grabbed both bread and cheese and began stuffing huge chunks into his mouth. Bits dropped from his lips. He ate like an animal that knows it might never find another meal.
Gytha looked at him, sorrow casting a shadow in her eyes, then she glanced at Eleanor to see her reaction. The tiny nun sat calmly, her expression sad as she watched the boy, nay, both man and boy, bolt the food. Finally, the feeding frenzy over, Eadmund belched loudly. Then he looked wide-eyed at the prioress and began to cry.
“You’ve poisoned me, y’ have,” he moaned.
Eleanor started in shock. “Poison? Why would I do a thing like that?”
“’Cause you killed my pa, you did. You’re bloody devils!”
The door opened. Eadmund jumped up and ran to the wall just under the window. Sister Ruth stuck her head in, glaring in fury at the youth. “Brother Thomas is no longer here, my lady. While we wait for him, I shall…”