Priscilla Royal - Wine of Violence

Eleanor nodded. “Very well, good sirs. Let us meet tomorrow after Chapter and I will go speak with Brother John alone at that time with your discreet protection.”

Dismissed, the men rose, bowed, and left.

Sister Anne also rose to leave.

“Stay, sister. I would have a brief word,” Eleanor said.

The tall nun turned toward her prioress, shoulders stooped and expression even sadder than usual. “Of course, my lady.”

“You were unusually quiet. May I ask why?”

Tears slowly brimmed and began falling in great drops down the nun’s cheeks. “I have something to tell you in private.”

Eleanor nodded to Gytha to leave them, then took Anne by the hand, pulling her back down into the seat beside her. “What is troubling you?”

“You never asked me why I was so close to hand when you cried out.”

“Indeed, it did not occur to me to ask.”

“You should.”

Eleanor looked at Anne, but the nun turned her face from the prioress. “Tell me, then, why you came from the church when you should have been at the hospital or even in your own bed.” Her voice was gentle.

“I was to meet Brother John in the church last night, my lady.”

“A meeting not proper within the letter of our vows, for cert, but you know that as well as I. Tell me why you were meeting him at such an hour and alone, Anne?”

“He asked to do so. It was not for lustful purposes, my lady. He wanted to talk to me about something where no one would hear us.”

“Why did he say he wanted to meet you?” Eleanor asked, squeezing the distraught nun’s hand.

“He did not say.”

“And was he with you when you heard me cry out? If so, he is not guilty of the attack.”

Sister Anne began to weep in earnest. “My lady, he was not!”

“Poor child!” Eleanor said and pulled the sobbing nun into her arms. “If he is indeed the murderer of two innocent men and the man who tried to stab me, then Brother Simeon may have frightened him away from the church and saved your life….”

“Brother John is a kind and gentle man! He is no murderer.”

Eleanor gently shook her. “You cannot say that for sure, Anne. Despite all our work with them, we may not always know what is in the hearts and souls of our brethren.…”

“My lady, I know Brother John very well. He was my husband.”

“Sin! The man is full of the blackest sin!” Simeon was weaving off the pathway.

Thomas reached out and tried to pull Simeon gently back to the safety of the level walk. “Surely God protected our prioress from Brother John’s black heart.”

“God’s hand is stronger when supported by a weapon in a good man’s hand!” Simeon waved one of his own hands drunkenly.

“Aye, and you have been wounded yourself in the good fight against the instrument of Satan,” Thomas said as he caught the waving hand.

Simeon looked down at his bandaged left hand held by the young monk. “A minor scratch. I fell as I chased Brother John from the church and scraped my hand on the rocks of the path. A minor wound in the battle against God’s enemies!” He belched with evident satisfaction.

“Has Sister Anne looked…”

“Eve took the apple from the serpent, brother. I will have no woman touch me with that poisonous hand. In battles between kings, each man aids his fellow. In the wars against sin, wounds must be treated in the same fashion. We monks have no need for the daughters of Eve. I know enough to wrap a scrape.”

“I meant well, brother. Forgive me if I angered.”

Simeon slapped Thomas on the back with his free hand. “You did not anger, my son. I know you meant no ill, but once again I would advise you to beware of Sister Anne. She is an arrogant woman and not as holy as she should be.”

“How so? You have suggested such in the past but never told me your meaning.”

“She and Brother John were married in the world, brother. I have seen them behave in ways here that make me question their devotion to their vows of chastity.”

“Surely our prioress has seen this as well, yet Sister Anne has gained her confidence…”

Simeon snatched his hand from Thomas’ grip. “I do not share your trust in our prioress, Brother Thomas. She is a young woman and inexperienced in the ways of the world. She needs firm guidance in her friendships. I fear that Sister Anne may have blinded her by showing a fine face. Being a woman, Prioress Eleanor is weak and lacking in good judgement. She has been easily beguiled and cannot see the corruption in the nun’s heart.”

“I am grateful for your wise instruction, brother. Perhaps our prioress would benefit from your words of warning too.”

“Our descendant of Eve suffers much from the sin of arrogance, I fear, and shows no signs of realizing she needs guidance and the greater wisdom of Adam. After all, whom did she pick as her personal confessor? A murderer! She certainly did not consult with me on that or I would have warned her away from him. And you heard her join with our boorish and irreverent crowner in expressing some doubt that Brother John was guilty of both murders and the attack on her person. Does any of that suggest to you that the woman is rational or a good judge of character?”

“Perhaps she will see the error of her ways, when she has gained some distance from these horrible events, and be guided by you in the future.”

Simeon snorted and marched ahead. His anger, it seemed, had burned away the effects of too much unwatered wine. His step was now firm.

As Thomas stood and watched the man, he sighed. He doubted the good prioress would ever listen to Brother Simeon in the manner he wished, and Thomas thought it equally unlikely that Simeon would ever become reconciled to his new subservient role. In the meantime, Thomas wondered about Brother John’s guilt. He had been surprised to learn that he and Sister Anne had once been married. From what he had observed, he doubted that the monk was a threat to any woman’s chastity, even his own wife’s. He must learn more of what Simeon knew.

Thomas gathered up his robes and ran after the receiver.

***

“It is all my fault,” Gytha wailed.

As soon as Sister Anne had left the prioress’s chambers, Gytha had knocked at the door and begged for a private audience. Eleanor was beginning to wonder if God had suddenly changed the rule prohibiting women from being priests, with so many confessions crowding in on her.

Gytha now stood in front of Eleanor with her head bowed.

“Child, you should have told this to Crowner Ralf, but you are not to blame for what has happened. Indeed, you warned me of the distrust between village and priory. Although I listened, I failed to hear with my whole heart what you were telling me.”

“Neither my brother nor I meant to do wrong, my lady.”

Eleanor cut some bread and cheese, then pushed the serving across the table toward the young girl. “Sit. Eat. And tell me all, child.”

“There is little but that Tostig knew who the dead man was. He was not a village man but he had worked on Tyndal’s farms and came to our market days. My brother knew him from that.”

“And when he died on our grounds, all believed one of the monks had killed him?”

Gytha nodded. “Some did for cert.”

“Why?”

“Brother Rupert visited him not long after Prioress Felicia died. After that, Eadnoth refused to go near either priory or farm. He wouldn’t say why but he acted like a badly frightened man. Some said he was losing his wits, a few that he was possessed, but many more thought that someone in the priory had threatened him.”

Eleanor stood up, got another cup from the cabinet, poured some wine into it and watered it well. “You are not eating, child. I do not want you ill over this. And drink the wine. It will strengthen you.” She watched while Gytha took a small bite and then another. “Did I not promise you that no harm would ever come from telling me the truth, however hard it might be for me to hear it. It grieves me that so many fear the inhabitants of the priory because most of us are Normans. Perhaps they do not know that not all of us are, although your brother should. Whatever the case, we are all children of God and equal in His sight, whether we be Saxon, Norman, or even a Scot or a wild Welshman,” Eleanor said, trying to make Gytha smile.