Priscilla Royal - Chambers of Death

“Maybe he tormented her more than anyone knew and she could take no more, thus cut his throat. A moment of madness, perhaps, as you have just described.”

“Well argued, Brother, but I have rarely known a soul with so little anger in it. The sheriff must look elsewhere for the one whom Satan drove witless.” Huet’s smile was most engaging.

Thomas felt his face turn hot but was determined not to surrender to the man’s charm. “You know everyone here. Had anyone more cause than she?”

“Why do you ask, Brother? It is not your concern.”

Thomas swallowed hard, then forced a sheepish look. “Monks often find the world’s ways incomprehensible, and we ask too many questions about it. In addition, the Prince of Darkness may not disport himself more often in the world than in priories, but we are inclined to pretend otherwise and look for reasons to support that belief.”

Huet threw his head back and laughed. “You must whet your skills if you would become a teller of tales! Let me demonstrate a more persuasive demeanor.” He mimicked a sly, inquisitive monk. “That look you gave me would not lead any man to conclude you were like the religious you describe.”

Thomas willed himself to smile as if he had only intended a jest. “But I did make you laugh. Have I not learned that from you at least?”

Huet nodded, his expression much bemused.

Thomas sighed. “Nonetheless, the matter is certainly not my concern. I am but idly curious.”

“With all due respect, Brother, I doubt that. Your question is founded in true caring, not the idle prying from which so many suffer. In reply, I would say that several had more reason to kill Tobye than Hilda. He breached maidens and rode wives. The women may have been willing enough, but their gates were owned by others, and he had no right to enter as he did, whatever the invitations. If I were Sir Sheriff, I’d look to cuckolds and angry fathers before I laid a hand on our cook.”

“Any in particular?” Thomas asked, knowing he had just pushed his claim to trifling inquisitiveness a bit too far.

Huet shrugged. His eyes narrowed.

“None?”

“If you wish to satisfy what you name your idle curiosity , you had best ask others to raise questions. I have been too long away to know the most recent offenses. But, if you continue, I advise you to take care. There will be mortals aplenty who might not consider your interest but a simple failing of a cloistered monk.” He bowed. “Now, if you will forgive me, I promised to meet with my father for our long-delayed discussion about my abrupt return home.”

Thomas watched the man leave the kitchen. Were those parting words a threat or a kind warning? Rubbing his forehead, he concluded only two things after this talk with the steward’s younger son: he himself had been dangerously unwise in his speech, and Master Huet was far less ignorant of manor affairs than he pretended.

Mistress Maud was not in the chamber.

Although Eleanor’s temper had waned during the short walk here, she knew it might wax again if fed by the sight of one whom she must call a suspect, no matter how unwillingly. Eleanor exhaled with relief when she saw that Mariota’s sole attendant was the usual servant.

The woman set aside her mending and rose to acknowledge the entrance of the prioress. “May I serve you in any way, my lady?”

Eleanor refused but thanked her, grateful for the woman’s gentle manner. It drove away the last of her unwomanly raging, allowing her to conclude that she had surely exaggerated the murkiness of the problems. Later, and with calmer spirit, she would carefully apply reason to each issue. As her aunt had taught her, anger only distorted facts. The situation could not possibly be as complex as she had thought under the influence of the Devil’s fury.

“How fares this child?” she asked, turning to look at the bed.

Mariota opened her eyes. “I feel much stronger, my lady,” she whispered hoarsely. “I walked to the door and back today.”

Surprised at the response, the prioress cried out with delight and rushed to grasp the girl’s hand.

“She also took some soup but an hour ago,” the servant added as she returned to her work, the stitching so skillful that the tear was becoming quite invisible.

Eleanor studied the girl. “Then you are most certainly healing.” Although Mariota was still pale, her cheeks had regained some of the healthier pink they had previously borne.

“Shall we leave soon?”

There was a sadness in the girl’s voice that caught Eleanor’s attention. Was she still suffering over what she had recently confessed? “Not until there is sufficient lull in the storms, and you have enough strength to travel back to the priory without further endangering your health.”

Mariota squeezed her eyes shut as if the meager light stung.

Eleanor gestured to the servant that she might leave them.

“I will remain outside should you have need of me,” the woman replied.

The prioress waited until the door was firmly shut. “You seem troubled, my child.”

“Are we alone?”

Eleanor nodded. “Speak freely and tell me what burdens your spirit.”

A slight flush dusted the young woman’s cheeks. “I would not speak ill of those who are kind.”

Fear numbed the prioress, but she knew she dared not show it. Her mind now raced through the possible meanings, and her heart began to pound. To disguise her alarm, she carefully released Mariota’s hand, patted it gently, and drew back a step. “Let me take that weight from you. If your spirit be honest in its speech, I shall decide whether those who seem benevolent are truly so or only don the convenient robes of compassion.”

Mariota stared up at the ceiling and began to speak. “This morning, Mistress Maud brought Master Huet to this chamber and sat while he played most beautifully upon the lute. His gentle songs of love, both worldly and spiritual, quite raised my spirits.”

“I have heard him, and he owns much talent.” Eleanor smiled encouragement.

“After a while, I slipped into a pleasant sleep, dreaming that my brother’s friend greeted me with great happiness.” She looked at the prioress as if searching for some sign, either of hope or censure.

“As we all know, God can tell us things in dreams, and this may suggest that matters have changed in your family of late,” Eleanor said, then quickly added a caution. “I am not, however, as blessed as Joseph who read God’s word in Pharaoh’s dream.”

The girl nodded. “When I awoke, I felt at peace and decided that God might truly be merciful in this matter. Then I opened my eyes.” She began to tremble.

Eleanor took the girl’s hand and held it with a gentleness she hoped would make further speech easier.

“I dare not draw any conclusions, my lady, but the sight did startle me.”

“Tell me in simple words exactly what you saw?” The prioress fought not to betray her own apprehension.

“Mistress Maud and Master Huet were standing near the window. They were holding each other in close embrace.”

Sweat trickled down her sides as if the room were overheated, but shock had numbed Eleanor to such petty sensitivity. She could only feel terror for Mariota’s safety. Her mouth was too dry when she swallowed, and she repressed a coughing fit.

“Did they know you had witnessed this?”

“I think not, my lady. His back was to me, and she could not see over his shoulder. I quickly closed my eyes. After waiting a while, I made a noise as if just awakening, then hesitated until I heard some sound. When I opened my eyes, they were apart and staring out the window as if something of import had caught their interest.”