Priscilla Royal - Wine of Violence

“Sometimes that has been forgotten, my lady.” The girl’s expression remained solemn.

“During the time of Prioress Felicia?”

“She was a kindly woman and meant well. Brother Rupert was gentle and ministered to the spiritual needs of everyone without hesitation. Neither seemed comfortable in dealings with the secular world, despite all that, and they did little to protect us from those who were harsher in their commerce with us.”

“And who might that be?”

“Brother Simeon was one. He did not treat us as if we were all equal in the sight of God. When crops failed or sickness came or times were hard for other reasons, he called us sinful creatures that deserved whatever evil had befallen us. He gave no mercy in the matter of tithes. When we took our complaints to Prioress Felicia, she told us to see Prior Theobald. And when we spoke with him, he would just shake his head in sadness and say that the world was full of evil and grief or that mortal men were weak creatures in need of greater prayer. Homilies but no action.”

Eleanor shook her head. “And Brother John?” she asked with sadness in her voice.

Gytha put her head in her hands. “Brother John is a good man like Brother Rupert was. I cannot believe he is guilty of murder! Must he die like Brother Rupert and Eadnoth? Is the end of the world coming that good men now die like dogs, even in a community dedicated to God?”

Eleanor’s eyes widened in shock. She reached over to take the young girl’s hand. “Don’t be afraid! If Brother John is innocent, he will not die. Evil may have attacked this house of God, but this house is not evil. I swear it on my own honor!”

Gytha squeezed her hand and wiped her cheeks dry. “My brother did say your coming to Tyndal might bode well for change. He…”

There was a sharp rap at the chamber door. The prioress straightened up and answered with anger in her voice.

Sister Ruth entered, pushing a dirty young fellow about Gytha’s age at arm’s length in front of her. The lines of her scowl were so deeply etched into her forehead they were black.

“This foul-smelling creature demanded entry. I tried to keep him out, but he would not take my nay for an answer. Fa, but he stinks!” The nun stepped backwards in disgust.

The lad did smell like something rotting. His clothes were rags and his shoulders and chest were bursting what few seams held. Tears had cleaned two paths down his blackened cheeks. Gytha started at the sight of him

“Your name, my son?” Eleanor asked, reaching out her hand.

“Eadmund, the son of Eadnoth.” He hawked and spat at the sight of the prioress’s proffered hand. Although his body was not fully fleshed and muscled, his voice was that of a man.

Sister Ruth started to cuff the young man for his rudeness, then withdrew her hand when she realized she would have to touch his filthy cheek.

Gytha had no such qualms. She reached over and shoved him so hard he rocked back on his heels. “Show some manners, Eadmund!”

Eleanor looked back at Gytha with a silent question in her eyes.

“He is a good lad, my lady, for all his ill manners.”

“Then leave us with our thanks, Sister Ruth, and we will hear what he has to say.”

“My lady, it is not safe to leave you alone with such a ruffian.”

“Then get Brother Jo…Thomas, who may be in the sacristy still. He can wait outside my door in case of need.”

Sister Ruth rushed from the room so quickly she left the chamber door open. Eleanor rose and slowly shut it.

“Will you have something to eat, my son?” she said and pointed at the food still on the table.

He looked ravenously at the hunk of cheese and bread but angrily shook his head from side to side.

“If I were to guess, lad, I’d say you hadn’t eaten in awhile. Please take something.”

“I take nothing from the priory.”

“Eadmund!” Gytha said, putting her hands on her hips. “You cannot eat pride, and Prioress Eleanor will not hurt you.”

The lad looked wildly back and forth between Eleanor and Gytha, then charged at the table, grabbed both bread and cheese and began stuffing huge chunks into his mouth. Bits dropped from his lips. He ate like an animal that knows it might never find another meal.

Gytha looked at him, sorrow casting a shadow in her eyes, then she glanced at Eleanor to see her reaction. The tiny nun sat calmly, her expression sad as she watched the boy, nay, both man and boy, bolt the food. Finally, the feeding frenzy over, Eadmund belched loudly. Then he looked wide-eyed at the prioress and began to cry.

“You’ve poisoned me, y’ have,” he moaned.

Eleanor started in shock. “Poison? Why would I do a thing like that?”

“’Cause you killed my pa, you did. You’re bloody devils!”

The door opened. Eadmund jumped up and ran to the wall just under the window. Sister Ruth stuck her head in, glaring in fury at the youth. “Brother Thomas is no longer here, my lady. While we wait for him, I shall…”

“Sister, please leave us. Should the young man wish to depart, he is free to go. In the meantime, stay without and shut the door behind you.”

“But…”

“As I said, sister.”

The chamber door slammed shut.

Eleanor turned to Eadmund, who was looking up at the window like a cornered cat calculating a jump. She wanted to reach out to him but knew such a gesture would only make matters worse.

“Eadmund?” she asked in a soft voice. “Stay there and I will stand over here.” She gestured to the wall on her right. “If you want to run, you can reach the door and leave any time you want.” Then she calmly walked to the far corner, gesturing Gytha to follow her. “You can see that you are free to leave if you choose, and neither Gytha nor I could stop you. You heard me give orders to let you go when you open that door.”

The look in the young man’s eyes grew less feral. He slid with his back still against the wall into a sitting position and stared at Eleanor.

“You must have wanted to talk to me if you braved Sister Ruth to get in,” Eleanor said with gentle voice and a slight smile.

He looked at her, his expression still wary. He jerked his head in Gytha’s direction. “Her brother said you were trustworthy. And he’s a trusty one himself, aye, although his sister works for you black devils.”

“Has anything happened to Gytha despite her being here?”

Eadmund belched again. “Nay. Other than she is now fat and fine.”

Gytha snorted.

“Then we are not all devils, surely?”

The young man’s look darkened. “Maybe not but I cannot say who is and who isn’t.”

“You know Tostig’s judgement is good and that he would not have sent you into danger alone. He’d have come himself if he thought you had anything to fear. He seems to be both a brave and a decent man.”

Eadmund nodded. “He said he’d come with me if it would make me feel safer, but I said I would come alone. He gave me his word you’d not hurt me.” In puffing out his chest, he now looked more a boy than the man he was becoming.

“And have I?”

Eadmund belched for the third time. “I’m not dead yet…and the cheese was good.” He looked around as if hoping, despite his misgivings, that there would be more.

“Then you have shown courage. Perhaps now you will say what you came to tell me?”

Once again, the boy looked like a small and helpless child. “I don’t know what to say.” He smeared what Eleanor suspected were tears away from his eyes, then looked at Gytha with ferocity. “Get her out!” he shouted. “I’ll not tell anything if she’s to hear me.”

Mentally shoving rules aside, Eleanor gestured to Gytha to leave. The girl hesitated, then realized the boy was more afraid than angry, and she quickly left, shutting the door softly behind her.