Priscilla Royal - Covenant With Hell

“I do not believe the story of the accidental brigands, Brother. The attack was too convenient, and their unwillingness to injure or steal from others is unnatural for those who live on havoc and theft.”

“If the band had meant only to silence her, they accomplished that effectively, my lady. We should be grateful that the innocents in the traveling party did not suffer because a traitor chose to hide amongst them.”

“One merchant might disagree, but otherwise the outlaws showed uncommon charity, a kindness that speaks well for those who sent them.” Once again, she shifted her arm into a different position. Using that as an excuse, she looked around.

Prioress Ursell’s current attendant, a young nun with solemn manner, stood by the door with head bowed, but Eleanor was certain that her ears were alert to anything of interest that might be said. “I wonder whom Mistress Emelyne served.” She smiled at her monk and tilted her head toward the nun. “I assume that no one knows.”

“I have heard no rumors,” he replied, cautiously signaling that he understood her meaning. “Are you healing well?”

“Quite so, with the help of a little comfrey and then yarrow for the bruises and cuts. To ease the pain of my arm, the infirmarian adds a few drops of poppy juice to that fine wine sent by a generous wine merchant from Norwich.”

Thomas blinked, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Kind, indeed.”

“Prioress Ursell has a fine healer amongst her nuns, one who is eager to improve her skills and has asked many questions about our hospital. I promised to pose them to Sister Anne on our return. Perhaps we can copy one of our herbals and send it back, in gratitude for the care here.”

Thomas looked away.

Eleanor knew his thoughts. In his opinion, Ryehill had no right to a gift after the evil it had fostered and the arrogance with which it had treated her. But we must agree, she thought, that the infirmarian has shown competence and much kindness to me.

“Gratitude for simple things as well as the great ones is a lesson I may take from this pilgrimage, Brother,” she said, in reply to his unspoken concern. “The journey here, despite the interruptions, has been a good one.”

“You have found the peace you sought?”

“I had at the Holy House, but before I lost consciousness in the bell tower, I felt something indefinable.” She grew pensive. “I saw nothing, nor heard a voice, but I was filled with tranquility. Had I died in that fall, I believe I might have faced God, content that I no longer carried one sin with which I have been burdened. Whatever some may claim about the events of last summer, Our Lady of Walsingham has let me know that I am not to blame for those conclusions.”

“We saw great wickedness that summer.”

“Perhaps some in the village learned compassion.”

“We may pray that is so, but never again do I want to be surrounded by so much hate as I was the day I stood in the midst of the mob screaming for a family’s blood.”

Lost in their own memories of that time, they fell into a long silence.

Outside, birds sang of hope and joy. In the near future, they would be building nests for their eggs and seeking food for the chicks born. The air gave hints that flowers and leaves would soon burst out to chase the color of death from the earth. Spring, it seemed, had arrived in time for Easter week and the large number of penitents who would travel here, including King Edward.

“I shall not stay for his arrival.” Eleanor looked at her monk, knowing he would understand her reference.

“And if you are not sufficiently healed by then?”

“We must arrange something so I can return to our priory. I’ll not remain in Walsingham, even if the journey back is slowed by my injuries.” She glanced at the nun by the door. “My presence would be a distraction. Courtiers, inclined to generosity, might give to Tyndal because of their respect for my brother. Ryehill, in this instance, needs the gifts to survive, far more than we, especially from the king.”

He studied her for a moment, then his expression grew gentle.

How well he knows me, she thought, and understands that I also yearn to go home where I feel safe. The prioress did not need a painful arm to remind her that her pilgrimage had almost proved fatal.

Glancing at Prioress Ursell’s attendant by the door, Thomas said: “I have sent the requested message to our king, including your prayers that he will be generous to this place.”

“But we have one other important matter to resolve, Brother.”

“I had hoped we were in concurrence on that issue, my lady.”

She smiled at his eagerness. “Does she wait to be called?”

“She stands outside the door.”

“Then bring her in.”

Thomas asked that the door be opened, and the nun who had been Sister Roysia’s friend entered, holding Gracia by the hand.

The child knelt and folded her hands. She was now dressed in a simple robe and did not reek of the streets.

“I bathed her, my lady, and have untangled her hair.” The nun looked down at her thin charge. “Sister Roysia said she was a good child, although grown too feral.” Her brow furrowed with worry. “I have made sure she has been fed, as Brother Thomas required, but she does not eat much.”

With thanks for her gentle care, Eleanor dismissed the nun and told the child to rise and sit by the chair. “Tell me of your kin, child.”

Gracia hesitated, glancing at Thomas.

He nodded.

“They are dead, my lady. I have no family on Earth.”

“And who were they while they lived?”

“Honest but poor. I have no siblings left. All died with the last fever.”

Eleanor reached out her good hand. “You lived. God has a purpose for you.”

With some hesitation, Gracia took it. “If so, He has a strange way of showing it.”

To the girl’s surprise, Eleanor laughed. “He often does. I wish you had not suffered as you have, but I believe that torment may have ended.”

Thomas grinned.

Gracia looked wary as only a child can who has forgotten the experience of kept promises.

“Would you like to return with us to Tyndal? I do not inquire whether you have a calling for the religious life, nor do I require it.”

Gracia started but, instead of drawing back, grasped the prioress’ hand more firmly.

“You are young and need the care of good women.”

“I must serve, my lady. I shall not live on charity.”

“I did not ask you to come to our priory to labor in the fields.”

“I must do something to earn my bread. I have begged in the streets long enough.”

This might be pride, Eleanor thought, but the form was an honorable one, not a sin. “First, you must gain strength, and then I insist you suffer the trials of education.”

Gracia nodded with eagerness.

“When you have lived with us awhile, you may decide whether to continue within the walls or find a life without, but you shall not go forth without skills and the good health to survive.”

“My lady, I have no love for the world. There is too much violence, and I fear it. May I remain as a servant to your nuns?”

“You are too young to decide, my child.”

“But you shall not force me to leave if I do not wish it?”

“I give you my word. When hunger becomes a vague memory and you have gained all that is needed to live in the world, then you, and only you, may decide whether to go or stay.”

“And I shall never again have to see that merchant who raped me?” She began to weep. “My lady, he threatened to strangle me if he ever came upon me while I was sleeping. He believed I would spread the story of what he had done and vowed that I would not live to do so. I could run from Father Vincent’s rocks, but I could not stay awake forever!”