As Gracia climbed the stairs to the prioress’ chambers, she began to add more details to her idea and was sure Prioress Eleanor would be delighted, both with her plan and with her discovery of this clever young lay brother.
Chapter Nineteen
The next morning, no one could be sure where the Earth stopped and the sky began. The spiritual and physical realms had united in shades of white. Falling snow looked like tiny petals made of ice. Sniffing the air, fishermen whispered to each other that a bad storm was nigh.
Inside the guest quarters, Brother Thomas and Crowner Ralf stood facing those three abbots still untouched by the anonymous liegeman of Death. A fire crackled joyfully in the dining hall, but there was no merriment in the assembled group.
The expressions on the faces of the abbots ranged from angry to fearful. Only Abbot Ancell exhibited the calm expected of a man whose dedication to God must mean he believed the life after death would be far superior to anything the mortal world had to offer.
Brother Thomas turned to him first. “When you were at the inn, there was another man besides your usual servants who spent time with you. What can you tell us of him?”
Ancell expressed surprise. “I recall no one like that. We specifically asked that only our men wait on us. The inn was teeming with whores. The very thought that our food would be touched by a woman was an affront to our vows. Just imagine how our meal might have been polluted! It makes me shudder even now.”
Ralf opened his mouth to speak but restrained himself with great effort. Whores were plentiful at the inn, and reasonably avoided, but other women had cooked their food. The person in charge of their meals in Tyndal Priory was a nun. Clearly, these abbots were willing to compromise when it came to the dangers of women. No matter how austere some tried to be, none would go so far as to starve. Growling to himself, he felt contempt for all these abbots, not just his brother.
Thomas was more amused by Ancell’s bad logic. As he imagined Sister Matilda’s likely reaction to such denunciation of herself and the lay sisters in her kitchen, the monk struggled to hide his mirth as he continued with his question. “Nonetheless, a man who was not in your party did join those whom you brought with you.”
Ancell shook his head and looked at Didier who did not respond.
“I recall the man.” Abbot Mordredus said. “He was an inn employee who approached me when we arrived. He begged me to let him join us on the way to Norwich and offered to serve any of our needs until we left the next day. When he said he was troubled by the whores at the inn, and feared for his virtue if he remained any longer, I naturally agreed to his request. A godly man!”
Didier scowled. “I do not remember him at all.”
Looking smug, Mordredus continued. “He said he would apportion the food from the pot to each of our servants. Since most of those are lay brothers, he was willing to protect them from the evil temptations of the daughters of Eve at the inn kitchen. He later ate his meal with the servants and did accompany our party in the morning, a group which grew in numbers and offered safety on the road near forests.”
Ancell did not look pleased. “I wonder why he asked you and not another for permission to travel with us.”
Mordredus beamed. “He confessed that he had prayed for guidance and believed he was led to me as the most virtuous of the seven abbots.”
Didier laughed.
“You are not the one best able to question his opinion.” Mordredus almost spat at his fellow abbot but quickly regained his composure before continuing to answer Thomas’ question. “I also referred him to Abbot Odo for further instructions. Our dear brother is quite skilled in matters involving food and the service thereof.”
Ancell walked away from the gathering and stood by the fire.
Thomas was puzzled by that reaction, wondering if he had some reason to avoid any more questioning. But the monk quickly grew charitable. As an old man, Ancell probably felt cold and needed a fire’s warmth. It was Mordredus who seemed to have the most knowledge of the unidentified servant.
The monk looked back at the more helpful abbot and asked, “Did the man accompany you to Tyndal Priory when Abbot Ilbert fell ill?”
Mordredus thought for a moment. “No, he did not, but I didn’t notice his absence until now when you asked. With the tragedies besetting us, I forgot about him. He may have helped us at the inn, but he walked with the other travelers and spent no more time with any of us, even to seek righteous guidance to virtue’s path.”
“You know well all the men who came here with you from your abbeys?” Ralf’s tone was sharp with impatience. Had he been in charge of the interrogation, he would not have tolerated such willful forgetfulness about details, and it would not have taken this long to get clear answers. He understood why Brother Thomas had to treat men of such high religious rank with caution, but the crowner also wanted to get home to his family before dark or any storm arrived.
Ancell turned around but placed his hands behind him to keep them closer to the fire’s heat. “Those men serve us and therefore God, Crowner. I resent your accusatory and insolent tone. You have no jurisdiction on God’s land. Remember that and stay humble.” He looked at Thomas. “I do not understand why this king’s man was allowed to come here. Insulting us seems to be his only purpose.”
“I asked him here because he must listen to all the statements given. If need be, Crowner Ralf can go where we cannot,” Thomas replied. “His brother is also the stricken Abbot Odo. Surely you understand how deeply troubled he is by that, as well as the other deaths.”
Ralf snorted but quickly tried to hide his contempt with a cough. “I meant no disrespect,” he said in a civil tone that was almost convincing. “As you noted, I am a worldly creature, a blunt man with few manners.”
“The Abbot of Caldwell’s brother? Although I had not noted it before, I now see the similarity to our brother in Christ.” Mordredus’ muttered remark was contemptuous but not quite low enough to remain unheard.
Thomas grasped Ralf’s arm as a plea for caution before his friend could react.
Ancell returned to the circle of abbots. “Since this man at the inn has been further described, I do recall someone talking to Abbot Mordredus when we first arrived at that insidious place. I can confirm that a similar man joined our little party of pilgrims, including other faithful when we left the next morning.” He looked with regret at Thomas. “But ask me nothing more about him. He was of no interest to me.”
Thomas was intrigued by Ancell’s description of themselves as pilgrims. Although he did not doubt that they would worship at the shrine of Saint William before starting on the journey back to their abbeys, he knew their true intent was a far worldlier one, seething with greed and ambition. Or did Ancell have a different purpose from the other abbots going to Norwich? Perhaps, for him, it was a pious journey.
“Can any of you describe him?” Ralf looked around as if hoping there was an ewer of wine to help him through this unpleasant interview with a group of religious men he deemed hypocrites.
Mordredus hesitated before saying, “An ordinary man. One of low status, from his speech and rough manners.” His eyes narrowed, and he looked at Ralf. “A beard. Eyes narrowly spaced?” He waved his hand dismissively. “I did not notice much about him for it was nearly dark when we spoke together.”
“Yes, he had a bushy beard. I noticed because our lay brothers are clean-shaven, and the two who are not serve Abbots Didier and Mordredus.” Ancell’s brief smile suggested the word serve had more than one meaning.
That smile sparked Thomas’ interest, and he studied Ancell further. Not a man adverse to a little subtlety, he thought.
This abbot was much older than the others, his face deeply lined and his remaining sparse hair an icy white. His hands, folded prayerfully, included long fingers remarkably unswollen by the joint disease. For a man of his apparent age, his movement was ea
sy, suggesting he might be stronger than one would expect of an aged man. And, as Thomas recalled, this abbot has shown more calm than the others in the face of appalling death. Was he a man of greater virtue than his fellows or was he simply less engaged in the world as he grew closer to death himself?
The abbots were engaged in a petty quarrel over whether the man had a well-trimmed beard or an untamed one, as well as when he was last seen.
Ralf gnawed his lower lip with impatience.
Of all the abbots on this journey, Thomas wondered why Ancell had come. His age suggested he had little reason to think a bishopric might be bestowed on him. Perhaps this was the one man who did come simply to honor Rome’s special envoy, offer his services in preaching the crusade, and serve some secret penance by traveling in the winter season.
Yet all had been invited, had they not? Perhaps the envoy was solely interested in how to increase enthusiasm for the crusade and to accumulate gold to pay the cost of holy war. Maybe it was only Ancell who understood there was no hidden intent, and none of them would be examined as potential future bishops.
Didier began to mutter something to Mordredus. His expression suggested the conversation between them was not a friendly one.
Thomas abandoned his musing and turned a questioning eye on the two abbots.
Mordredus blinked first. “My brother in Christ has misinterpreted my comment that the man may have left our party when he discovered that we were not all as virtuous as he had assumed. I meant only that we, as mortal men, are all sinners. Not one of us is a saint.” Mordredus glared at his fellow abbot.
“You now remember that he left?” Thomas looked hopeful. “When did he do so?”
“He must have,” the abbot said. “I have not seen him here.”
“I finally recalled that he did leave our party,” Didier said. “When Abbot Ilbert began to vomit and Abbot Odo urged us to take the road to your priory hospital, the man went with the remaining pilgrims to the village. I assume there is an inn there?”
Ralf nodded.
“There were others besides that one man who traveled with you that day?” Thomas tried to keep the deep longing for useful information out of his voice. “What do you recall of them?”
“An elderly couple,” Mordredus said, pressing a finger to his mouth as if fearing such worldly observations were somehow sinful and ought not to be uttered.
“And a young one,” Didier said, but his eyes were shining. “The woman was pale but quite lovely.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Her pallor reminded me of a painting in my abbey church of St. Wilgyth watching her stepmother kill her two sisters.”
“Surely others, but I did not concern myself with them other than bestowing a few blessings,” Ancell said. “Our journey was so arduous that we missed many of the Offices because the threatening weather did not permit greater delay. I attempted to pray as much as possible as we rode to atone for those sins of omission.”
Ralf leaned toward Thomas and whispered, “The man may still be at the inn, Brother, unless he chose to travel back to the place from which he had come. He couldn’t go on to Norwich for the same reason these abbots had to stay here.”
“I have spoken with Signy about those who arrived at her inn when the abbots came to us. I plan to go back there as soon as I can,” the monk murmured back.
Ancell gasped. “Might this man, in whom you show so much interest, be the one who poisoned our beloved brothers, Gifre and Odo? And might he still be nearby?”
“You have nothing to fear, my lords,” Thomas said. “Prioress Eleanor has a plan to keep you all safe.”
The abbots murmured politely, but their expressions loudly proclaimed that they had absolutely no confidence in anything she would put in place.
Chapter Twenty
Nor did Brother Beorn have much faith in his prioress’ plan either, and that was unusual.
He had served Prioress Eleanor with profound loyalty and sincere respect since her arrival at Tyndal many years ago. At first, he had assumed she would be nothing more than a witless girl from a family honored by the king, but he was soon convinced that she truly did represent the Virgin Mary on Earth, which was the expected responsibility of prioresses and the abbess in the Order of Fontevraud. As he glanced at the raw-boned youth beside him, whose robe flapped about his body like laundry drying in the wind, Brother Beorn, for the first time, doubted his prioress’ wisdom in this one venture.
His heart burned with agony over that.
The lad, who might have seen fifteen or sixteen summers, looked up at this ill-tempered man and grinned. Unlike many youths of his age, his skin was still as pink and soft as a girl’s, although there was a slightly coarser sprouting of hair on his cheeks. His teeth flashed white and straight.
Without question, Brother Beorn decided, Brother Anthony has immense charm, but that particular appeal was often more the Devil’s gift than God’s.
“I am humbled by your confidence that I can perform this work in the kitchen,” the lad said, his eagerness already bubbling like a pot of stew.
Or else you assume the labor will be easier than clearing paths of snow to the hospital and church so pious villagers might walk them with greater ease, Brother Beorn muttered to himself. Aloud, he grunted. “Did I give you permission to speak?”
The youth’s cheeks flushed a rosier shade. “Forgive me! In my eagerness to start my new task, I forgot your lessons in humility and have sinned.”
“I fear that is not your only wickedness.” The elder man stared meaningfully at the lad.
Brother Anthony paled as if his master had discovered something he had thought hidden.
The elder lay brother might be rough in manner but he possessed a kinder heart. He stopped and put a thin hand on the youth’s shoulder. Had the boy feared he meant those sins born of dreams from which Beorn no longer suffered but which he did recall well enough? “Nay, lad, I do not mean a transgression all men suffer when a succubus attacks us in our sleep. That you must confess to a priest. I mean a more willful offense.”
With a relieved sigh, the youth looked up at his lanky mentor with a confused expression. “I do not know what you mean,” he said. “Teach me, for I am so ignorant of all the ways Satan drives us from God.”
“Think on it a while longer,” Brother Beorn said, and they walked in silence for a short distance. The older man prayed the younger one would realize by himself where his wickedness lay. Such awareness would be a good start on the path to greater virtue.
But the lad remained perplexed, and his face grew paler with increasing fear over what he did not understand.
Beorn chose mercy. “Where did you meet Gracia, Prioress Eleanor’s maid?”
“At the apothecary hut!”
The young man’s instant and enthusiastic reply sent a troubling message that upset Beorn. He stiffened, and his eyebrows clashed with a forbidding grimness. “Have I not warned you to forsake the company of women unless you are in the company of a much older brother? Have I not told you that you will struggle with the vow of chastity and should flee the presence of all women? Why have you disobeyed me? Meeting with any woman, and especially the Prioress’ maid, is an odious thing! You have not only your vows to protect but her chastity.”
“Brother, forgive me for I misspoke. I did not go to the hut to meet Mistress Gracia. I met her when I went to see Sister Oliva with another lay brother who suffered an earache.” He looked at Beorn with horror. “Knowing we would be in the presence of a nun, we went together, as you advised. Our purpose lacked all sin.”
“You met Mistress Gracia there,” Beorn repeated slowly. “Was she alone?”
“She was in the company of Anchoress Juliana’s maid, as she often is.”
“Often is? How do you know that?”
The gruff tone was like gravel rubbed on a wound, and the youth winced. “We, I mean all of us
, frequently see them together when we set off to work in the morning. It is common knowledge that they spend time together.”
“You notice them? Why do you seek to look upon them and not direct your gaze from the temptation?”
Brother Anthony’s cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “We cannot turn away unless we see them, can we?”
Beorn pondered the tone and found it oddly innocent of impudence.
“They are not always in the same place,” the lad continued and looked hopeful that this reply was adequate.
“But you must have spoken to Mistress Gracia.”
“I heard her accent and realized that we had come from the same place. She is from Walsingham, as am I. Is it wrong to feel a kinship, almost as if we were brother and sister? If so, teach me my error, Brother, and I shall gladly suffer penance.”
Beorn stopped to glower at the youth. Had he heard a hint of disrespect in his voice? Was there defiance in his heart? “Satan, begone!” he shouted and waved his hand in the lad’s face.
Falling to his knees, the youth raised his arms beseechingly. “Forgive me! I confess I liked Mistress Gracia but only in a chaste way. I felt no lust for her.”
After a moment, Brother Beorn ordered him to rise. Although he feared there was less innocence in this apparently chance meeting than the lad himself realized, or perhaps Mistress Gracia did herself, he chose to withhold a scolding until he looked into the problem further. Most certainly, he must also report this all to the prioress. “We will talk of the matter later,” he said, “and I do promise that you shall undergo a hard penance.”
With that, he pulled Brother Anthony to his feet and marched him to the kitchen.
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