Priscilla Royal - Justice for the Damned

"An older man fainted, but a companion soon found him. Our Brother Infirmarian treated him and he survived."

"Have most of these sightings occurred outside or within the priory walls?" he continued.

"Nearly all without."

"The king's justice…"

"Lest you think our local sheriff should be interested, I must lay waste to any hope. According to him, no harm has been committed; therefore, there is no crime. Even if some ill had befallen someone, he says that all ghosts fall under Church authority, not secular justice. Besides his evident laziness, he has not the intelligence of your own local crowner, as my niece has told me. I would not trust our fellow to know a ghost from a bed sheet."

Sister Anne chuckled.

"If the ghost prefers to walk outside the priory, I may be of little help in this matter, Sister. Since I am a monk…"

"That is easily remedied." Beatrice poured a measure of wine into a footed mazer and handed it to him. "We can let you out the gate. Monks do travel the roads, and a late arrival might find his way to the inn. You are not known in the village."

"Sayer might recognize me." Thomas hesitated before quickly adding, "We did have some conversation. I was walking nearby and had cause."

"And he does spend time at the inn. Nay, blush not, Brother. I know he provided both women and drink for our weaker brethren. Since you are a stranger to this priory, I would not be surprised if he tried to tempt you, for the rediscovered piety of those monks has surely cost him. Perchance he even cursed this ghost for that."

"If he sees me, I cannot play either a virtuous or a traveling monk. He will think I have come for sinful purposes. How then shall I…?"

"Let us hope he is not at the inn, but, if he is, I must trust you to be as clever and true to your vows as my niece assures me you are. There may be no ghost abroad, but there is something malign out there. Whether it is simply mischievous or truly evil, there must be an end to this matter."

Thomas shifted uncomfortably under her steady gaze, before nodding his concurrence. Although he was grateful that his prioress had given such strong witness to his virtue, he had caught something in the aunt's tone that suggested she was not quite so certain about him. Even though her precise words did not betray this, he felt he was being tested.

The assignment to find the truth behind a ghost would make his undertaking for the Church easier, and, with Sister Beatrice's permission to leave the priory, he would not have to sneak out or come up with some questionable disguise in order to find this unknown manuscript thief before the Amesbury Psalter disappeared. In order to assuage any doubt she might have, he must present his response carefully to avoid showing any eagerness to escape the walls, an enthusiasm that might be interpreted as worldly.

Thomas twisted his hands nervously. "I long to obey, as my vows demand, but do not wish to do anything that might bring dishonor to this priory. If you want me to go into the village, I must do so with the modesty expected in one of our vocation." He held his breath, awaiting confirmation of his hopes.

"That I do and with a bit of coin to buy ale or otherwise ease truth's birthing amongst those who might talk to you of local matters at the inn." Beatrice nodded sympathetically. "Ah, Brother, I know this is not an effortless thing I ask of you, but Satan is cunning and Man must use both prayer and God-given wits to defeat the evil he brings to the world. While our sheriff has chosen to visit a distant manor just now for a hunt," the novice mistress snorted, "innocents both within and outside our walls have grown fearful of walking abroad. We cannot allow this to continue, and we have only ourselves to stop it."

Thomas exhaled.

Eleanor sat back in her chair with evident fatigue. "If you see this strange and even unholy shade, Brother, try to note what you can but take care. If the being is one of Satan's, it has the full power of the Prince of Darkness at its disposal. If the creature is mortal, it may have some malign intent. I beg you not to endanger yourself in this quest."

"My niece has properly reminded me that there is physical as well as spiritual danger here. I fear that I have been so blinded by my belief that the dead do not walk the earth that I failed to issue her very wise warning. If nothing untoward approaches you, however, a visit to the inn should prove helpful."

Thomas glanced over at his prioress.

She nodded.

The exchange was not lost on Sister Beatrice, and pride in her niece's authority briefly shone in her eyes. "The inn is the perfect place to hear gossip, and I will instruct our porter to let you out the gate at an hour most religious should be in bed. This plan is a dangerous one, and I know I am sending you into a world where Satan will delight in testing you. Your devotion to justice and your calling must strengthen you. I trust you will remember you are there only to serve God. Had we some other choice… but we do not. Surely, if you dissemble as well as you did.

Thomas wiped a sudden light sweat from his forehead.

"…when you faced that murderer in Tyndal, you will be convincing as a wandering monk with news to exchange. Some of the inn's visitors should be quite willing to tell you things they might not a local man. With God's grace, your mission may be quickly accomplished, and you can come back to our priory without suffering from your experience." She raised a thoughtful eyebrow.

"I delight in honoring my vow of obedience and am happy to do as required, praying that my actions result in peace returning to these sacred walls." Thomas put his hands together in the attitude of prayer and bowed his head.

"As for your findings, do not come to me, for I fear my many extra duties keep me from giving this matter the proper attention." Sister Beatrice drained her mazer and smiled at her niece. "On this question of ghosts, Prioress Eleanor shall act on Amesbury's behalf."

Brother Thomas could barely contain his glee over this good fortune.

The next morning's mist was a light one. The yellow sun had already warmed the nearby outcropping of blue and lavender flowers, soft as a bishop's linen, and their fragrance filled the air with an agreeable scent that almost masked the stench of rank filth and rotting weeds along the river bank. Nor did the air bite the skin as was sometimes true before the midsummer sun finally vanquished all remnants of the darker seasons. In sum, the day seemed quite filled with tenderness.

Alys, however, was unmindful of the morning's promise. Had she been passing a dunghill, her expression could not have been more sour; her face was reddened as if winter's chill still ruled.

"Is it not a lovely morning for a walk, mistress?" Master Herbert slowed so he would not outpace the sullen young woman at his side.

In the distance, a crow cawed, the grating sound heard clearly above the rush of the river's waters.

"My daughter most heartily agrees!" Jhone's tone was flat with forced enthusiasm. "And would have answered herself were she not dreaming of how happy she shall be upon your marriage." Although she remained some feet behind the wooing couple, the sharp rebuke in these last words was not softened by the separation.

Alys said nothing, and the color in her face now darkened even more. She stopped and kicked at a rock in the path. The force sent the stone flying over the tall grass and into the river.

Herbert folded his arms and studied the flight of the rock with a thoughtful look. When he saw the splash, he turned around and motioned Jhone to turn away.

"Oh!" the mother exclaimed softly, reading his meaning well. Studying the ground as if she had dropped something, she began to walk slowly back toward the village.