Priscilla Royal - Satan's Lullaby

Davoir clutched his hands together. “Your sub-prioress has resigned her office because of her brother’s actions, but she is a worthy woman and a good servant of God. I pray you will have mercy on her.”

“I have accepted her plea to be released from the duty she has long performed with honor, Father. It is her wish, not mine. Once she has returned to health, I shall speak with her about her desired path of service, as well as what is best for our priory, but I assure you that I bear her no enmity. It was her brother who sinned against us, not Sister Ruth.” It seems he has entirely forgotten about Renaud, she thought, but then the clerk was a steward’s son. All souls might be equal in God’s judgement, but rank still raised some above others in the eyes of mortals.

He smiled with relief. “It is with great joy that I return to my sister at Fontevraud Abbey, not only with complete repudiation of the false claims against you, but a fine report on your leadership in all aspects at this daughter house.” He swallowed and looked away for a moment. “She has always held you in especial regard, among all her daughters, for the work you do in God’s service. She will not be surprised at my laudatory report, but she will be most pleased.”

Since he was so much taller than she, the priest stared down at her. His smile and gaze made her uneasy until she realized that they reminded her of her cat when he approached a fine piece of fish she had saved for him. She struggled not to laugh. Then, with exemplary humility, Eleanor knelt. “Give this unworthy woman your blessing, Father, for I am mortal and suffer many sins.”

Standing as straight and grave as the bishop he would soon become, Davoir granted the request and waited for her to rise. Briefly, he glanced at Thomas but chose to ignore him.

The monk managed not to smile. He was pleased that the priest knew nothing of his father’s rank or the man might have been more conciliatory despite Thomas’ illegitimacy. At least one king’s bastard had held higher rank in the Church than this man ever will, the monk thought. But he was grateful he would always be a simple monk within the priory he happily called his home.

He stepped away but kept his head bowed while his prioress and the prior bid their guest a formal farewell.

“Brother, may I interrupt your meditations?”

Startled, Thomas looked up to see Conan by his side.

“I have a message for you.”

The monk brightened. “Gytha…”

“No, I have no message from the manor house, but I do have word of another birth.”

Thomas blinked, then noticed the smile twinkling in the guard captain’s eyes. Suddenly, he felt his face grow hot.

“Durant of Norwich wishes you to know that your blessing last year brought great joy. His wife has been safely delivered of a healthy son. Although the good wine merchant has vowed to return here with them both at some future date, he will first send a worthy gift to this priory in gratitude for God’s kindness-and yours.” The guard bowed.

“Will you see Master Durant soon?” Thomas knew his voice trembled.

“After I have delivered this company to their ships, I return to court to report on my adventures.” Conan’s expression was inscrutable. “Master Durant provides some of the king’s wine and is often in attendance there. I believe I may meet him.”

“Will you tell him…?” Thomas turned away, and then forced himself to finish his sentence. “Will you say that I continue to consider him my brother after our time together in Walsingham? I pray daily for his health, that of his wife, and now his babe.” With a genuine smile, he looked back at the captain. “You say a son? What is the babe’s name?”

Conan grinned. “He was named after his mother’s favorite uncle, a man who died only a few months before the birth. Coincidentally, his name was Thomas .”

The monk did not bother to hide this blush, suspecting this man might not care about the cause. “I am sure the boy will be a credit to his good kin and will become a far worthier man than another who also bears that name.”

Conan agreed to relay the message, and, with a pat on the monk’s shoulder, returned to his horse and men outside the priory gate.

When the party had left, and the sound of the travelers’ horses had faded, a great sigh rose from the three monastics who could now return to the tasks that had been set aside for no better reason than a man’s petty longing for revenge.

Although Prioress Eleanor had given the priest her forgiveness, and most certainly forgave her former sub-prioress, she was not so sure she could forgive Sister Ruth’s brother. She did ask herself if she should tell her own brother about what had happened, then rejected the idea. To do so would be as petty as what the baron had done. In time, she decided, God would render some justice on him, and she was glad to let Him do it.

After some discussion with her prior about what tasks must be done first, Eleanor and Thomas walked back along the path that led to the hospital and to her own quarters.

Before they had gone far, they heard a voice calling out.

Nute raced down the path toward them.

“What news?” the two monastics shouted in unison.

Nute skidded to a halt in front of them, stood up straight, and took a deep breath. “Sister Anne has announced that Mistress Gytha was safely delivered of a healthy son. He shall be named Fulke. ” Then he frowned. “I could hear the babe outside the manor house, my lady. He has the crowner’s lungs.”

And with great relief, Prioress Eleanor and Brother Thomas laughed and shouted for joy.