Priscilla Royal - Satan's Lullaby

“And sent away from the grace of his master’s smile.”

“To a poor parish, filled with whores, to whom he administered the compassion he had never received. Some might say the appointment was a blessing, for he lost all lust and was able to counsel the women in chaste encounters. But he ate little and drank only water until he grew too weak and fell victim to a plague that killed him slowly and in great agony.”

Thomas suffered enough from weakness of the flesh, although mostly in his dreams. He shook his head, not in condemnation of the dead man, but out of profound sympathy.

“I blamed Father Etienne for his lack of charity. I saw him as my brother’s murderer.”

“And for that you chose to follow him here.”

“And kill him, Brother, without the chance for confession, with all his sins festering in his soul. I wanted him to go to Hell.”

The Church could not condone that, Thomas thought, for all mortals had the right to cleanse their souls before death. And yet he heard an insistent voice from his heart suggest that this favored priest might never recognize his harshness as a sin and never confess the wickedness. With such an inadequate confession, the man would certainly suffer longer in Purgatory. The image did not trouble him unduly, nor was this the first time he had felt this way about those he thought cruel.

Shaking the image from his mind, he continued. “After you learned of Jean’s death, you were seen spying on the guest quarters.”

“Something was not right, and I became curious. One of the lay brothers said the sub-infirmarian had been arrested for killing the lad, and yet there was talk of setting a guard for the priest. If she had been locked away or the lad had only died of a fever, I asked myself, why have a guard? Then I worried that the priest had learned of my arrival. He knew I had sworn to kill him after the death of my brother. Had he seen and recognized me?”

“He had not,” Thomas said.

“I concluded I must swiftly act if I was to achieve my desire and even escape before the deed was discovered. That night, I found the gate to the guest quarters unlocked so eagerly slipped in. When I saw that only Renaud patrolled, I knew I had my best chance. As quietly as possible, I followed the clerk and waited for the right moment. When he stopped to peer into the shrubbery, I struck him down.”

“You might have accomplished your intent, had you entered the chambers after hitting Renaud. The priest would surely have been asleep and most assuredly alone.” The monk did not mention that Conan had been close by and might have caught him in the act. It was this man’s failure to proceed that interested Thomas. “What stopped you from entering the guest quarters and killing the priest?”

“God took mercy on my soul and his. As I looked on the fallen clerk, I knew I had only rendered him unconscious. If I did not kill him, he might awaken and raise the hue and cry. May God forgive my evil heart! I raised my hand for the fatal blow, but my hand inexplicably faltered and slipped to my side. I knew I would be unable to crack open his skull and sent him for judgement. Like Saint Paul on the road to Damascus, I fell to the ground as if the hand of God had struck me. It was then I heard a voice telling me that murder is an act beloved by Satan, one forbidden by the Commandments and abhorred by Him. I rose and fled the grounds.”

And in that moment Thomas believed God had spoken to the man whose eyes were glazed with the wonder he had experienced. The monk waited to hear what more this would-be assassin might say.

Philippe covered his eyes as if he could no longer bear what they now saw. “My brother feeds worms in his grave, whether or not I kill the priest. Were I to plunge a dagger into Father Etienne’s heart as reprisal, I would still never hold my brother in my arms again. I would only add the horror of my crime to the pain of loss. How could I live with the understanding that I had willingly committed a great wickedness and was no better than the man I hated? Revenge is not the balm for grief. At least my brother was shriven of his sins before he died. God has said that such men will not suffer the agonies of Hell.”

“And the suffering he endured on earth may also cut short his time in Purgatory.”

“I confess that I still can not forgive Father Etienne for what he did to my brother. May God give me the strength to do so! But He did stop me from committing an act that would never heal my heart and would only add to the chains which may yet drag me down to Hell.”

“Father Etienne must face God’s judgement for the sins he has committed against your brother and others.”

“Henceforth, I shall try to find peace in that, but I fear he will never see his condemnation of my brother as the heartlessness it was.”

Thomas remained silent about his own condemnation of the priest’s soul. Instead, he smiled approval for the man’s resolution. “And so you fled the quarters to avoid killing the priest.”

“And went back to the hospital chapel where I lay prostrate before the altar, weeping and begging God to show me how to expiate my sins.”

“Did He answer your prayer?”

“His reply came from the quiet flickering of a candle.” Philippe gestured at the men close by. “That small group of penitents had just arrived on their way to Canterbury and had been given mats next to mine on which to sleep one night. I was to join them in their journey, but this time I must do so as a true pilgrim. After which, I might return home to my wife and children. Holy vows are not my calling, but my wife has long urged me to give more of the income from my trade to the poor. As I rose from my knees, I could hear my wife’s joyous cry when I returned from Becket’s shrine and announced that I would follow her pious advice and found a small hospital, based on what I had seen here, for the sick and dying poor.”

Thomas solemnly nodded. “But now I keep you from your devout journey and holy purpose.”

“I conclude that is God’s will, Brother. The innocent clerk meant only to protect his master and did nothing to merit the wound I gave him. It is only just that you take me to the crowner for punishment.”

Thomas quietly looked at this man but found the struggle to decide what was best easier than he had imagined.

Philippe had folded his hands and meekly waited for the monk to lead him off to chains and the king’s justice.

“Go to Canterbury,” Thomas said and pointed to the other penitents waiting for the fog to lift so they could commence their travel on the road to a saint’s tomb. “There is no reason for you to remain here.” With a brief blessing, he walked away.

Had Thomas looked back, he would have seen Philippe fall to his knees, his arms raised to heaven, and his heart filled with astounded gratitude.

Although the sea mist had finally dissipated, the earth remained wet with its tears. Multicolored leaves, once proudly announcing the rich harvest in the priory orchard, lay on the ground, dull with mold and rotting into the soil. The chill, eager to herald the coming months of bitter cold, lingered in the air. It was that time when men’s souls grow fearful, for the dark season is when Death most loves to garner souls.

Brother Thomas and Prioress Eleanor were not part of that tremulous multitude. As they approached the courtyard inside the main gate, their expressions spoke of keen anticipation.

“Have you received any news?’ he asked.

The prioress nodded. “Nute was chosen to be the messenger for Gytha’s travail. He has confirmed that Sister Anne arrived at the manor and immediately ordered Ralf out of the house. After she had examined Gytha, she sent Signy outside long enough to announce that our sub-infirmarian was pleased with the progress of the child’s birth.” Eleanor smiled. “The crowner is sweating drops the size of crossbow bolts. Nute said that Ralf had even fallen to his knees in prayer at least once.”