Priscilla Royal - Tyrant of the Mind

“You might bring her to a greater peace with God.”

“Could you bring serenity to one for whom you bore a flawed love?” Once again, Juliana’s eyes turned black.

Eleanor realized that the groan she heard was her own. How often had she wished to brighten Brother Thomas’ dark moods to no avail? “A hard question, but I confess it is a fair one,” she replied.

There was silence between them.

“Why did you confess to Henry’s murder?” Eleanor asked.

“I had led him to it, and I thought it would have been better for me to hang than my father.”

Eleanor was outraged. “So you would not take your own life but would make use of the hangman to do the deed for you?”

“Nay! I confess to the desire for self-murder, but it was your priest that stopped me, my lady. As I stood on the parapet of your father’s castle, I thought to throw myself from the stone walkway.” Juliana’s eyes grew glazed. “Do you understand? For an instant of pain, I might have destroyed a lifetime of anguish.”

“For an instant of pain, you’d have gained an eternity of anguish.”

Juliana leaned against the prioress as if all her strength had vanished. “Take me, my lady, for I am so very weary of the world. Sometimes I fear I am the greatest sinner on this earth. Sometimes I know I am not. I beg you to allow me the peace of a hut in the forest where God can give me the understanding and solace I need.”

Eleanor hugged her. “If you seek to understand love, He will teach you,” she said with a hopeful tone, for indeed she sought such understanding herself. “But why ask to be an anchoress? Why not come to Tyndal and join the community of nuns?”

“I long for a life so silent that even I will be able to hear whatever wisdom God may grant me. The voices of other nuns, no matter how sweet their prayers and songs, would be like a roar in my ears, preventing me from hearing His precious words.” For a moment, she fell silent. “Do you fear that my calling is only for the moment, that my wish to leave the world is based only on sins God would forgive, as you rightly noted?”

“Not to question would be an injustice to you and to God.”

“Never have I desired marriage, my lady. Once I was consumed with lust, then had it quenched.”

“You might feel the same again, then wish for marriage.”

Juliana smiled. “It was a youthful folly, my lady, a burning in the loins, quickly slaked and never to be repeated. Indeed, I have long wondered if God meant me for the chaste life, but I felt no calling. It was after Isabelle married my father that He began to send me signs pointing in that direction. Of course He would forgive those sins I have confessed to you, but He meant me to see how deeply corrupted my soul was. I thought my love for Isabelle and for my father was innocent. Innocent? It was befouled with sinful ignorance, and I began to realize I knew nothing of what love meant.”

“But to turn away from all human comfort and support?”

“I spent more time in prayer, but the sound of other voices dragged my thoughts back down to earth. Isabelle called out to me, clinging, and needing my comfort. My father found solace in whatever silly distractions I provided for him.”

“All this is good in God’s eyes.”

“I found no peace. Where was the silence I needed to hear God’s wisdom? I longed to understand so much, but the wailing of the world kept me from my desire. Slowly God began to reveal to me that I must escape from all human kind. By the time we came to Wynethorpe Castle, I knew I should. When I led my brother to his death, I knew it without doubt. I must not remain in the world. It is God’s will that I be entombed at Tyndal, my lady, and I must obey.”

“Why Tyndal?”

Juliana looked up, her eyes darkly luminous. “Because God has directed me there. I had a dream. A light brighter than the sun at noon awakened me, and, from that light, a voice rang forth with the sweetness of church bells on a summer morning. It told me that I should find my abode where lived a young priest with red-gold hair. That very next day, I looked down into the inner ward of Wynethorpe and saw Brother Thomas. As I watched him walking from the chapel, his cowl slipped and I saw his hair. Then I knew the dream had been a sign. Tyndal was to be my home.”

Eleanor flinched. For just a moment, she found herself wondering with unaccustomed spite if the dream might have come after seeing Brother Thomas rather than before. She shook the malice from her heart. Such jealousy was reprehensible. Hadn’t her priest taken vows to reject worldly lust, as she had herself, and wasn’t Juliana asking to do the same? Juliana could not be a rival for the monk’s affections. Indeed, she was begging to separate herself from all men. Eleanor shut her eyes tightly. Ignoble thoughts, she said to herself.

“You have visions then?” Eleanor asked in a steady tone. The changing color of her friend’s eyes from brown to coal black made her feel uneasy.

“Visions or dreams, my lady. Do they not both come from the soul and hopefully from God?”

“You know you must still ask your brother’s permission. I cannot accept you without George’s blessing.”

“He will give it.”

“If so and the bishop gives his approval, then shall I. You will have your sanctuary at Tyndal, Juliana. I pray it brings you peace.”

Sister Anne bent over the shivering woman. “Do you need another blanket, my lady?” she asked gently.

Isabelle drew her knees up toward her chin and continued to stare. Her eyes did not blink.

“May I call Brother Thomas to bring you comfort?”

The woman’s only response was a broken cackle.

Sister Anne stood up, beckoned to Isabelle’s maid to keep watch over her mistress, and walked out of the room. Just outside the door, Brother Thomas was standing, head bowed in thought.

“She’ll have none of you, brother.”

“If not, perhaps she will see me?” Eleanor asked, as she emerged from the stairwell, then shook her head. “Indeed she will whether or not she wishes it,” she said and walked into Isabelle’s room, slamming the heavy door behind her. Thomas and Anne looked at each other and shuddered. There was something in the tone of their prioress’ voice that neither of them had ever heard before.

***

The maid having been dismissed, Eleanor sat next to Isabelle. The widow’s eyes were closed. Her arms hugged her knees close to her body. Blood still stained her hands and fingernails.

“Isabelle?”

“Go away.”

“I think not. You need to hear what I have to tell you.”

“You? What could you possibly have to tell me?” The widow snorted. “Bloodless, unsexed thing that you are.”

“Unsexed? Bloodless? Not long ago you were accusing me of everything but playing mare to George’s stallion. I shall lay that aside, however. What I have to tell you has little to do with sex or love, yet all to do with fear and hate.”

Isabelle blinked, her face grew mottled.

“You did not kill him you know.”

Isabelle put one stained hand over her mouth.

“You wanted to, but the sin was in your heart, not in your deed.”

“How did you know…”

“Henry’s corpse spoke well enough. When you opened your door, you knew it was not your husband. He had been safely banished to the barracks and your maid sent off to sleep elsewhere as well. You had hoped that Robert would come to your room and thought it was he. Were you horrified to see Henry? Did he whisper at your door, disguising his voice?”

Isabelle lowered her hand and stared at Eleanor, then gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

“Tell me where I err. He grabbed you? You clawed at his face? Did you then twist away from him? Somehow you got that knife. A small woman’s knife. And you stabbed him. All you could think about was the time he had raped you.” Eleanor hesitated. Was she right in this or was she about to make a horrible situation worse? She swallowed and continued. “Or was it you who seduced him and drove him wild with lust until he took you and gave you the child you could use to marry his father? Did you stab him to protect your honor or did you want to silence him…”