Priscilla Royal - Chambers of Death

And thus the two women continued in easy conversation, hope entering the heart of the younger and compassion the soul of the elder.

***

When the travellers rounded the turn in the road that led eastward, Thomas pulled back on his horse’s reins and turned around for one last look at a place he might never see again.

A small figure now, Huet stood alone at the manor gate and raised his hand in farewell.

The monk returned the gesture and watched the steward’s son retreat into the courtyard and his new responsibilities.

I shall miss the man, Thomas thought. Should he allow himself to dwell on it, he knew he would grieve over this parting as much as Huet had seemed to do. Not since Giles had he felt so at ease with another man, one with whom he might have founded a pleasurable friendship had they been clerks together at another time and before he had suffered so cruelly.

But he willed himself not dwell on an occurrence that would not happen and, perhaps, one that should not. Instead, he urged his horse to travel on and mulled over all that had happened during the last many weeks, including the murders at the manor.

How strange, he thought, that his wayward spirit had been so peaceful during this ill-fated journey, and he tried to examine what had caused such a change.

One reason was surely the service he had been able to render his prioress. Although she had relied on his knowledge of charters and other legal issues before, never had they worked as closely as they had in these weeks, determining the proper action to take on those matters involving priory lands. Once their task had been completed, she had expressed much appreciation and even unusually warm regard for his efforts.

Then they had arrived at the manor and, once again, she had turned to him for consultation and assistance. In the past, Sister Anne or Crowner Ralf had been by her side to help bring a murderer to justice. This time, she had only him, and, again, she had seemed well pleased.

Had he been a man filled with the usual ambitions, he might have used this regard to advance in his vocation. He was not. In fact, he knew he was fortunate to have survived his time in prison, and his greatest aspiration was to ease the melancholy he so often suffered. Were he to make use of Prioress Eleanor’s pleasure in his service, perhaps he should ask again for permission to spend a year as a hermit?

But did he still want to escape the world, even the world in a priory? If he were honest with himself, he would confess that he had enjoyed these many days outside Tyndal, befouled as some of them were with murder. He rather enjoyed investigations into crime of greater and lesser evil. Were it not for his malignant grief over Giles and the troubling nature of his feelings for the man in Amesbury, might he not have found his work as a spy both satisfying and challenging?

If that were the case, he realized with a pang of fear, perhaps he was not suited to the religious life at all. Might he find more contentment in the world, working instead for the king?

Although he longed for a simple answer, there was none.

Briefly, he looked back in the direction of the now invisible manor. Huet had been right in a way. Perhaps he did understand the man’s confusion, having neither a strong religious vocation nor a comfort with the demands of a worldly life. Yet he had found neither peace nor satisfactory answer to the difficulty himself and thus had no advice for another.

How would Huet resolve his quandary over the Church? As his father’s presumed heir in the stewardship, his path lay in the world, and the Earl of Lincoln would surely find a way to let him ease out of any vows taken. Huet dare not let his doubts rule him. He must make choices and wise ones at that. Indeed, Huet’s travails might well enlighten Thomas. If anyone was bereft of counsel, the monk thought, it was he. And for that reason alone, he would miss the steward’s son. All other reasons, he would lock away in the dungeon of his melancholy.

He sighed. Nothing had ever been uncomplicated for him, and he had no cause to think that would change. All men owed God allegiance, whether king or villein. For those sent to a religious house, even the ones who doubted or felt undeserving, they must bend the knee and find ways to pray. And he was most certainly one of the most unworthy to enter any priory.

Yet Anchoress Juliana had given him both direction and hope with her advice. Patience was a virtue he was trying to learn, and he could only wait for something to happen to guide him into the right choices. Friends he most certainly had in this life and now, it seemed, the favor of his prioress. With grim humor he considered how often she was placed in the middle of unnatural deaths. If he wanted adventure, he might be well-advised to stay at her side.

With that thought, Thomas took a deep breath, urged his horse forward, and followed his prioress and their company on the road leading back to Tyndal Priory.