Priscilla Royal - Sanctity of Hate

Thomas chuckled but again fell silent as he continued to stroke the cat.

“Something troubles you greatly, Brother.”

Realizing that the monk’s attention was drifting from him, Arthur leapt out of Thomas’ arms and onto the floor.

The cat’s bearing as he trotted through the chamber door reminded the prioress of a manor reeve going to inspect lands for which he was responsible.

“I may have condemned a babe’s soul, my lady.”

Peace fled, and she felt a chill. “How so?”

“I promised Jacob ben Asser and his mother-in-law that we would not baptize the newborn child even if it were in danger of dying. The same promise was given for the babe’s mother, but she is of an age to know the consequences of her deeds.”

The prioress said nothing and walked back to the window.

He waited. A light breeze flowed through the chambers, the salt smell hinting that more rain would fall within a few hours. From the orchard of priory fruit trees, birds chirped loudly to herald the coming showers. He wondered how Brother Gwydo’s bees were doing under his tender care and felt an odd ache in his heart when the lay brother came to mind.

At last, the prioress turned around to face the monk, her brow furrowed.

“I shall be as forthright with you as you have been with me, Brother. I suffer doubts about the efficacy of forced baptism. As a priest, you understand better than I about these matters, but surely God knows when a conversion is not truly desired.”

“I agree, my lady, but we speak primarily of a child whose reason is unformed and who is therefore dependent upon the judgment of his parents. Jacob ben Asser and his family have rejected our offer of Christian salvation. That is a dangerous decision.”

“We might conclude that it is better to override their will and cloak their babe’s soul in a faith the parents do not own. But if the baptized child lives, both they and we know it must be taken from them. A Christian may not be raised by a Jewish family. Shall we not trust that God will have mercy on the babe and thus let the mother know she may keep her child? The anticipation of holding an infant to her breast gives a mother comfort and strength in the throes of a dangerous birthing.”

“Many men would say that salvation is of the greatest importance, that the family’s faith is a delusion nurtured by the Devil, and that any comfort the mother felt was born in evil.” Thomas looked away. “Yet learned voices joined with mine when I made that promise regarding the child. For one, the good Thomas Aquinas, so recently taken into God’s hands, spoke of a dead infant’s state of eternal joy which would be untempered by knowledge of what he had lost without baptism. And St. Paul’s wisdom also echoed in my soul. Is not charity the highest virtue, even above faith?”

Eleanor nodded. “I am grateful for your teaching, Brother. It may be wiser to change men’s hearts by practicing love and compassion, the tenets of our faith. Should mother and babe live, due to Sister Anne’s skill and the grace of God, this family may yet see the error of their beliefs and come willingly to ours.”

“I shall hope for that, my lady.”

“Yet I do not believe even this question of a child’s soul, no matter how important, is the sole cause of that shadow veiling your eyes.”

Thomas looked down at the floor. “Rumor’s face is scarred with the pox of lies and envy, her speech filled with curses, but men love her nonetheless. I fear she has recently uttered a particularly vile blasphemy.”

She visibly trembled. “We have always been of one mind on the need for plain speech. What have you heard, from whom, and what is your opinion of the tale?”

“While I was questioning Adelard on his reasons for wishing to take vows, he said that the world was too wicked for him. I pressed him for examples. He claimed that Evil is so rampant that those who dress in virtue during the daylight strip themselves of it to revel in sin at night.”

“He named someone from the priory?”

Thomas nodded.

“It is my duty to determine verity or falsehood in such accusations.”

“He claimed to have witnessed Brother Gwydo and Gytha having carnal knowledge of each other near the hut of Ivetta the Whore on the night Kenelm was killed.”

Eleanor’s head turned sharply as if she had been slapped.

“My lady, I do not know Brother Gwydo well, but I cannot believe that your good maid would commit such a sin.” He reached out as if pleading for forgiveness. “Had the villagers not attacked Cuthbert and the family he was protecting, I would have questioned Adelard further. Under the circumstances, I could not…”

“You had no choice,” Eleanor said, her voice rough with emotion. “Nor do I believe the two committed such a deed.”

“With your leave, I shall question the baker’s son further.”

She shook her head. “Not unless it is necessary. He believes he told you the truth, or else the Devil has enchanted him with this imagining. We can only hope that he has not whispered to others besides you about the sin he claims to have witnessed.”

“I do not trust him to have held his tongue. Adelard may have spread the news in the village that Kenelm and Jacob ben Asser fought the night before the guard was murdered. He, or another, suggested the Jewish family committed the crime to sully priory ground and foul our water. That was the reason the crowd attacked Cuthbert as he stood guard at the inn’s new stables, and threatened him so they could attack the Jewish family.”

“Do you know that Adelard is to blame?”

“I do not. When our crowner questioned some of the men after they had calmed, no one could remember where they had heard the tale. Yet how many others could have heard the arguments?”

“Mistress Signy.” She raised a hand. “I do not think that she was the source of this infamy, but, if she overheard the quarrel, others might just as well.”

“But surely no one else witnessed Brother Gwydo…”

“Let us hope Adelard said nothing. If not, the reputations of both my maid and our lay brother have been rudely compromised. I must find out the truth, and we shall make sure that the innocent are cleansed of any filth thrown upon them by these lies.”

“Should I summon your maid from the village?”

“Gytha is assisting Sister Anne with the birth, but, when she returns, I shall question her. As for Brother Gwydo, I would hear my maid’s tale before I question him. Gytha’s answers may explain all, and I may not need to involve our lay brother in this vile accusation.”

With those words, Eleanor gently dismissed the monk, sending him to the inn until it was time to escort Sister Anne back to the priory, but she was deeply troubled.

Was Adelard right? Was this the cause of Gytha’s sad demeanor of late? But why had the young woman not confided in her? “She must know that I would neither condemn nor cast her forth,” she murmured. “After all these years, she has surely learned to trust me. Something has indeed happened, but I cannot believe the truth matches the tale Adelard has told.”

Nonetheless, Eleanor retreated to her prie-dieu and, for a very long time, knelt in anxious prayer.

Belia’s eyes were white with terror. Bloodstains streaked her chemise.

“Be brave, my sweet child and my heart’s delight. This present agony is the worst,” Malka crooned. “It shall not last much longer.” Wiping her daughter’s face with a damp cloth, she encouraged Belia to continue walking in a tight circle within the stall.

Signy pushed aside the heavy sacking over the entrance and slipped into the small space. “Do you want more water in which to bathe her?”

“The one soaking was sufficient. The boiled fenugreek, mallow, and barley need only be used at the beginning of the birth.” Anne gestured at the sacking. “But please take down that cloth. The men will keep their distance while she is giving birth, and we can hardly breathe.” She was sweating, and her robe was splotched with pale blood.