Whatever his lineage, he was a priest with some training in law. She could see no reasonable grounds to refuse him as the offered replacement for Brother Rupert. Without a priest to perform sacraments for her nuns and the hospitalized dying, the priory could not function properly. She herself must have an educated man to assist her in the administrative work. For the moment, she would have to put her own feelings aside and accept him, but deep inside she trembled for her own emotional security. How she wished Sister Beatrice was waiting for her in her chambers with comfort and advice.
“I am grateful to you for your offer of Brother Thomas to fill the position we so desperately need.” Eleanor turned to face Theobald and Simeon, hoping that they could not see her slight trembling.
“I believe it to be best…” Prior Theobald began.
“And I accept your recommendation. At least for the time being. Our immediate concern, of course, must be Brother Rupert’s murder. The effect on our priory and indeed the implications for our very safety within the walls are paramount. Once the crowner has examined his body and decided what must be done to apprehend the killer, we can discuss further and in greater detail how the monks and lay brothers should be used to run our hospital and priory as well as serve the parish efficiently. At that time I will decide whether Brother Thomas can fulfill all his duties to my sisters without assistance. In the meantime…”
Thomas coughed. “Forgive me, my lady, but did you say murder?”
“Yes, brother. We have suffered a monstrous slaying in our midst. Brother Rupert, an elderly priest of our house, was found this morning in the nuns’ cloister garth, stabbed and castrated.”
Eleanor studied the young monk’s face. He had paled a bit at the news but otherwise showed little emotion. “In your studies of law,” she continued, “did you ever have occasion to investigate questionable deaths?”
***
The news that someone had been murdered and the prioress’ query about questionable deaths took Thomas’ mind back to the nights when he was a young lad and had heard muffled cries and scufflings in the dark passages of his father’s castle just outside the room in which he slept. He was never sure if the sounds were those of ghosts and demons or were of human origin, but he remembered how rigid he had lain in his tiny bed, his eyes focused in terror on the wavering shadows and pale shifting lights that danced tauntingly on the walls of his room. As soon as the gray morning light illuminated the familiar forms of straw and wood, he would slip outside his door, where he’d sometimes find brown stains on the stones, then he would tremble with fear at what might have happened all too close to him in the hours of darkness.
Even later on in his adult years, there was the morning he had entered the chamber of a well-hated deacon to find the man’s frozen and twisted body on the bed. Oh, he was told by a grinning servant, the master must have died from eating a dinner of bad eels. Did anyone die of food poisoning with such an expression of agonized horror on his face? Thomas suspected not but knew better than to voice his doubts.
So had he ever had occasion to investigate questionable deaths? No, he said to himself, he’d had more sense. Aloud, Thomas replied, “My education was academic, but both the study and practice of law require the exercise of reason and observation.”
“Indeed. I hope you have a strong stomach as well. Brother Rupert is not a pretty sight.”
Thomas lowered his eyes to hide his surprise at the bluntness of his new prioress. This woman did not behave like any of the other young women he had known. The sight of a tiny, live mouse was enough to cause them to scream and throw themselves into the arms of the nearest man, but this one was quite calm in her discussion of a man’s mutilated corpse. He might have expected an older, married woman to be this composed. After all, he’d heard tales of how some wives successfully defended castles while their lords were elsewhere, but a woman of the prioress’s youth? Never. Perhaps whatever changed some aging women into more manlike creatures happened to women of any age who devoted themselves to God? Thomas could think of no other explanation.
“My stomach will be strong enough, my lady,” he replied at last.
“Good,” the prioress said. “You must examine Brother Rupert’s body now, if you will. Perhaps you will see something both Sister Anne and I missed. After that you will arrange to take his body to a more fitting place to lie. I have forbidden the nuns access to the garden until the crowner has done whatever examination he deems fit, but Brother Rupert should rest in peace in a chapel tonight. It is unseemly that the poor man remain exposed in the cloister garth until the morrow.”
Thomas glanced over at both Prior Theobald and Brother Simeon for guidance. The good prior was stroking his cross, his eyes vague and his expression confused. The receiver stood with chin in hand, gazing at the prioress with a slight frown, then he turned and gave Thomas a quick nod.
“Of course, my lady,” Thomas said. “As you wish.”
Chapter Eight
Eleanor pressed her hand to her heart, then bit her lip. She was not surprised at the brief exchange between Thomas and Simeon. She should have expected that the young priest would seek approval from the two older men before obeying her. Still the gesture had stung her with a disproportionate pain. Thomas must be new to the Order, she told herself. Like both Simeon and Theobald he would soon learn that it was she who was in charge at Tyndal. Once he did, he would look to her for direction, not them.
Then she winced. Oh, don’t be such a fool, Eleanor, she said to herself, shaking her head in disgust. It’s not your position as head of the priory that you want him to recognize. You want him to see you as a woman. A worldly creature you still are, whatever your vows. Your muscles were like water walking so near him down the stone stairs from the prior’s chambers, and you tremble with the sickness of lust. If God meant to purge your soul of any pride in becoming prioress to the religious at Tyndal, He has succeeded well.
She had always thought obedience would be the vow with which she’d struggle most. She was quite amply endowed with a high spirit. For cert, the vow of poverty had never been a problem for her. She had grown up in comfortable simplicity at Amesbury and such was her definition of poverty. Being used to that life, she even preferred it.
But lust? Virgin she might be, but innocent she was not. Not after living with two older brothers and a castle full of young men in the year she’d spent with her father before she had taken her final vows. She had played at courtly love and quite enjoyed the feints and parries of it all, but it was only a game to her and she had never lost sight of or the desire for her vocation. This was surely the first test of her vows. And, she thought with grim determination, I shall win the contest.
As they stepped into the dappled light of the monks’ cloister walk, Eleanor glanced at Sister Ruth walking next to her in silence. The nun’s eyes were downcast, and her mouth was pursed as if she had just tasted something bitter. Had the older woman recognized what her young prioress was feeling? Perhaps God was kind and she had noticed nothing. Certainly Eleanor did not need any further marks against her in her new community. Or perhaps the porteress had never experienced lust and would not recognize the symptoms.