Priscilla Royal - Justice for the Damned

Not an unreasonable proposal, Eleanor decided. Fatigue began to fill her body with heaviness. If she stayed longer, would she have the strength to walk back to the priory? She willed the tiredness away.

"My father had a competent man who could have run the business for him, and the man is still there. He can handle everything for us now. There is no need for me to marry Master Herbert."

"That man is leaving to take on his own apprentices, although he promised that he would find another experienced in wool who can work under Master Herbert's direction. The business is well established but needs the firm hand of a clever merchant, not a mere boy!" Jhone looked at the prioress, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I beg of you, my lady, speak reason to this willful child for it seems she must hear it from someone other than me."

Eleanor nodded.

"Sadly, my mother wishes only to hear her husband's voice," Alys said with more tenderness than her words would suggest.

"How dare you speak as if he were not your sire?"

Alys shrugged. "My father thought only of earthly profits. He would never have seen more gain in a heavenly marriage than in an earthly one, but I shall not make the same mistake-if I am forced to choose only between a vintner and God."

Although Alys' argument reminded Eleanor somewhat of her own when faced with a similar choice some years ago, the prioress knew this girl would prefer a secular life as long as she could marry Master Glover.

"Your father was a true Christian! How dare you suggest otherwise?"

Alys threw her hands up in disgust.

Jhone twisted a handful of her robe. "You should be grateful that he chose Master Herbert, a most kind and charitable man, for you to wed. How many would be willing to marry into a family whose reputation has been soiled as ours has been by your uncle's past and your cousin's present sins?"

"Bernard does not care about old or unfounded rumors! Why will you not see this same quality in him?"

"Your glover is an impractical youth, someone who would rather ride out to that pile of pagan rocks and imagine things that never happened. Master Herbert is a sensible man, one who knows the importance of profit and will provide well for you and your children."

"Bernard has virtues!"

"You see," Jhone said with a conspiratorial glance at the prioress, "she cannot deny that her boy is a dreamer."

Eleanor's head was starting to spin.

"His gloves are finely made, and he has a craftsman's eye! Have you not seen the beautiful objects he has given his mother?"

"Pretty baubles, things she cannot use like we do our pewter and plate. He should be investing in items of worth, not buying useless trifles."

Mistress Jhone might have won that argument, Eleanor thought.

"He is moderate in his ways, has never raised a hand in anger, and…"

"… is easily led by others, especially women."

"He listens to my ideas and believes I would be a valuable partner in his trade. Where is the sin in that, if we prosper? As to the rest, dare you say I speak falsely?"

The mother snorted her contempt.

To my mind, at least, Alys won that point, Eleanor decided.

The church bells began to ring the hour.

Eleanor brightened. Now she had reason to leave before she fainted with weariness. Slowly she rose. "I fear it is close to None, and I must return to the priory."

"My lady, will you return and give my daughter the benefit of your wise advice? Surely you can see that she has no calling to become a nun?"

Delighted at the invitation, Eleanor nodded. If God grants me wisdom, she thought, I might bring the balm of peace to this mother and daughter. If He is willing, I may also find out what sins Wulfstan committed long ago and why a vintner's dead wife would wish to kill the father instead of the son, a man who may have helped send her soul to Hell.

"We will speak together soon," Eleanor said, looking at Alys with a reassuring smile. "Sister Beatrice would wish it."

Or will after I tell her what I have heard, the prioress said to herself, then left to collect her obedient escorts from the kitchen.

Eleanor walked slowly back to the priory. At this sluggish pace, she would miss the Office, but surely God would understand and accept her humble, silent repetition of prayers. Had she not been kept in the village by the need to restore peace to His house?

The meeting with Jhone and Alys had brought many interesting things to light about both ghost and murder, troublesome questions that hung like broken threads from a tapestry. They must fit somewhere, but she could not see how they should be placed to make the pattern clear. Perhaps Brother Thomas had some enlightening news and was waiting for her to return.

As the image of the monk occupied her mind, she was surprised that her thoughts of him were unaccompanied this time by the usual pang of guilt. The cooling of her flesh, temporary though that might be, had most certainly been a welcome respite from her relentless and gnawing hunger to bed the man. By pushing back the fiend who tormented her so, God had brought a gentle shower of hope to her scorched soul.

Wasn't there a treatise that dealt with love between monastics and spiritual friendship? Her aunt had mentioned it years ago when Eleanor was ready to take final vows, but she had never read it. Now she remembered: it was written by Aelred of Rievaulx. Might his words help her cope when the Prince of Darkness sent his imps once again to set fire to her loins? Although the great Cistercian abbot would not have discussed the possibility of such a thing between men and women, Eleanor wondered if his principles could apply in an Order where the two sexes must interact in holy purpose.

Her step lightened. When she finally had time alone with her aunt to seek advice on her sinful longings, Eleanor would ask her opinion on whether the abbot's treatise had insights to help both a prioress and a frail woman.

Meanwhile, what sin could there be in appreciating a man who had proven his worth as an instrument of God's justice? Without question she liked his courtly wit, but she also respected his gentleness as he consoled those in Tyndal's hospital, in particular the suffering children. She doubted he had come to the priory with a strong vocation, but she found him diligent in his duties and wise as a confessor to her nuns.

All told, he had proven himself to be a good man, and she had grieved when his black humors recaptured his spirit on his father's death. Even Sister Anne had failed to comfort him as he fell into a silence darkened with sorrow. She prayed he broke it with his confessor.

At least he had cheered when her aunt had given him the task of discovering what lay behind this ghost, she thought, then frowned. Was it the chance to serve God that refreshed his soul, or had he simply enjoyed escaping from walls he never wanted to surround him in the first place? The thought troubled her. How strongly did the world pull at her monk?

Eleanor glanced back at her two attendants. Although they had remained meekly quiet during this trip into the village, she noted the eagerness with which they now looked around, as if storing rare glimpses of the secular world to savor once they were back within priory confines. Were either truly suited to the contemplative life, she wondered, or were all mortals so joined to the dust from which they came that no one could truly leave the world? Maybe Brother Thomas was no different from any other.

Neither, perhaps, was she. She stopped to take delight in the sight of her beloved Avon. On the path along the river, she noticed a plump young merchant in close conversation with one of his men. The laborer gestured toward the priory walls. The merchant laughed, a sound that seemed both hearty and full of joy to Eleanor's ears. As she smiled at their merriment, she decided that Man might be weak to find pleasure in the earth, but surely God found little sin in this appreciation of His wondrous creation.