Or had she but delayed her acceptance?
Although he had realized from the day he arrived at Tyndal that he owed Prioress Eleanor a liegeman's loyalty, he was surprised to discover that his sense of duty had deepened with warm affection. She had always treated him with kindness, and, after he had been forced to tell her something of his past before her illness, she had shown him sensitive compassion. Aye, he thought, he very much wanted this woman to live.
Eleanor straightened. A worrisome flush painted her cheeks, but Thomas saw a sparkle in her eyes he had not seen since last autumn and a look not unlike that gleam in a huntsman's eye when he saw a fine boar he wished to kill for dinner.
"My lady is most generous," he said, bowing. Since he had no reason to believe her look was directed at him, he welcomed this sign of returning vigor with joy. Thomas found his prioress' iron will and determination most daunting, but he admired it as well. For once he was not embarrassed by the tremor in his voice. Relief was the cause.
Sister Beatrice tilted her head to one side, her lips easing into a reflective smile. "My niece would not have praised your actions out of a magnanimous spirit, nor would my beloved brother of Wynethorpe. He liked you, he said. That remark, from a man more likely to bark reproach than sing approval, has greater value than the gift of a furred robe from King Henry."
"I am honored," he replied and once again bowed his head, but this act of humility masked amusement. The convent nun and her warrior brother did share a fondness for candid speech.
Beatrice nodded approval. "Courtesy has now been given its due, I believe. We have a problem to solve." She gestured at the monk. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
Thomas blinked. "Ghosts?"
"Aye." The corners of the novice mistress' thin lips twitched upward.
"Forgive my hesitancy, but I am amazed. This is the second time today I have heard such spirits mentioned. Sayer, the roofer, warned me that one was troubling the priory, but I did not take his tale too seriously. He seemed a very merry fellow and quite fond of jokes."
"Indeed he is. Now I would hear what you know of the restless dead."
"Saint Augustine did not believe in them, nor do I think our Brother Aquinas would from what I have been told. Although there have been sightings of saints as well as demons in the guise of humans, there does seem to be general agreement, amongst the wise scholars of the Church, that the dead remain with their own. I bow to their superior knowledge."
"Such sweet phrasing is worthy of a bishopric, Brother." Beatrice raised an amused eyebrow. "Within that speech, I conclude that you do not personally believe in these spirits who some claim rise from their graves after dusk?"
In spite of himself, Thomas grinned in reply.
"Excellent. I concur. Yet others have declared that we have such a phantom nearby, insisting that they have seen it on several occasions. The sightings have become more frequent of late, and there is panic growing in the village as well as amongst our monastics."
"What form has this spirit taken, to whom has it appeared, and when?"
"A man who wastes no time." Beatrice clapped her hands with satisfaction. "I like that!"
Thomas stared at her for a brief moment. Nay, he was not back at Wynethorpe Castle, and he was not facing Baron Adam.
As if acknowledging his thoughts, the novice mistress shook her head. "Our nuns have not seen the creature at all. Some of the men, who work in the nearby priory lands and live in the village, have. Several lay brothers and monks as well. Although they say the spirit has no face, they think it wears a woman's robe.
The majority claim the shade is that of our alleged founder, Queen Elfrida. Based on such imprecise details, I might not conclude that King Edgar's long dead wife has come to us all the way from Wherwell Abbey, but many believe they have seen a crown on her head. The description of that has been both varied and vague."
"You told me others say the ghost is that of a local woman." Eleanor learned forward, resting her chin in her hand.
"Who has also been described as wearing a crown, but this one is made of fiery nails for her spirit comes from Hell," Beatrice replied. "In either case, the shade appears at twilight, when men are returning from work in our fields, or else very early in the morning, especially when the fog rises from the river. She walks along the road by the Avon, although some monks have claimed to have seen her within our walls on priory land."
"So said your roofer." Thomas glanced over at his prioress. "He seemed to think the ghost was the queen."
Beatrice closed her eyes in a brief attempt to hide her disdain for the whole debate. "The first sighting was before Prioress Ida left on her journey," she continued. "A worker saw a woman on the path and, noting her veil and plain dress, thought it odd that a nun would be walking alone outside the walls, especially at that hour. When she drew closer, he saw she had no face. Others have reported that she came from the river, her attire wet as if she had just emerged from the water."
"Which might explain why a few think she is the local woman."
"One reason certainly," Beatrice replied to Eleanor. "Opinions on that vary, but one man went to offer aid. When he saw she had no hands and nothing where a face should be, he ran away."
Thomas began to pace, then asked, "Why do some think the ghost of a local woman would haunt the area?"
"Mistress Eda was the wife of a vintner in the village. After she drowned in the Avon, the crowner and his jury determined that she had committed self-murder. We then buried her in unconsecrated ground. Despite his verdict, there are those who still believe she died by accident and has been wrongly accursed."
"I can understand why the villagers might conclude that the ghost is the vintner's wife, if her corpse was dishonored in burial, but why do so many think your founder has returned?"
"Our young rogue, Sayer, did not give you a clue?"
Thomas felt his face flush. "Aye, he did."
"Come, now, Brother! Surely you know there are those who come to a monastery with little longing for the life, and that others arrive with a vocation but must struggle with the flesh more than they imagined? Our priory has had our share of these and, like any villager who saw them at the inn, Sayer knows them well-as do those of us who are responsible for this priory's reputation."
"He did tell me as well that these monks had repented."
"And he is right. Our prioress made sure the break in our wall was repaired. Those monks who chose to lie between the legs of Eve's daughters instead of praying on their knees for the queen's spotted soul have been punished and now have renewed enthusiasm for the chaste life."
"That the creature continues to bother the priory argues in favor of those who think she is the vintner's wife," Eleanor suggested.
"Or else there was some delay receiving the news in Purgatory that Prioress Ida had destroyed the easy path to sin?" Anne did not betray, by either tone or expression, whether her words were said in jest.
"There is no ghost," Beatrice snapped, the V between her eyes darkening.
"The alleged spirit has committed no violence?" Thomas asked with careful emphasis.
Eleanor's brief smile expressed her approval of this speech.
"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.
Chapter Seven
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.
The vintner stepped close to Alys and reached for her hand.
The girl folded her arms into the sleeves of her robe.
He bent to her ear and whispered: "I may be twice your age, but my breath is still sweet and my rod can give much joy to one who has known only callow boys."
Alys glared, and her nose wrinkled with disgust.
"My first wife was pleased enough with me as husband, mistress. Take heart in that. Few of us marry as we wish, but many find joy nonetheless. You will forget Bernard's rumblings in time."
Alys raised her hand to strike.
Herbert stepped back. "Ah, see how modest your daughter is!" he called out with merry laughter. "I promise her a tender wedding night, and she blushes with such innocence."
Jhone turned around and waved brightly at the couple. To herself, she prayed that she could get her still virginal daughter into this merchant's bed before the girl gave up that virtue to her precious glover.
Alys froze, her mouth open to protest, and her hand still raised. Then she shuddered, spun around, and raced off toward the priory.
Herbert watched the young woman hurry away. As his gaze dropped below her waist, his tongue circled his lips. Although this union had been arranged for economic benefit, he seemed to ha
ve concluded that some of Alys' other charms might be equally compelling. He shook his head and strolled back toward the widow.
"Your daughter is fortunate to have you as an example of wifely virtue, Mistress Jhone," he said as he reached her side. 'You were a most worthy spouse to your dead husband, and he spoke often of your thoughtful obedience and sweet modesty, qualities all Christian women should share. He may have spent many hours drinking with his friends at the inn, but he always went home to you. Not once did he dishonor your marriage by bedding another woman, although there were many to tempt him." He smiled down at her. "As his close friend, I can confirm his fidelity."
Jhone bit her lip.
"Are you sure you will not reconsider my offer?" Herbert's breath brushed the widow's ear.
"You are generous to offer marriage to a poor widow of my years, sir," she whispered hoarsely, "but I cannot remarry. To share another man's bed would be like putting horns on my dead husband's brow. Nay, I shall go to him at death as faithful a spouse as I have been since we wed."
"The Church would give its blessing. Remarriage is no sin."
"To some it is, and I am one who believes it so. Which man would I call my earthly lord, and at whose side should I stand on Judgement Day? Nay, Master Herbert, my daughter is the better choice and more likely to bear you sons as well. Remember that I bore my husband only one living child and that a daughter." She winced as if stabbed with a sudden pain.
The vintner's palm lightly touched Jhone's waist but did not stay. "Your late husband gave you no sons, mistress. With due respect to my old friend and your honored spouse, my seed has proven stronger. My dead wife, may God have mercy upon her, bore three sons for me, but they all died soon after birth. She was weak of body, I fear. Even all the daughters failed to thrive." He rubbed the corner of his eyes with one finger. "I wish that had not been true, but you were her childhood friend and saw how quickly my beloved Eda grew frail."
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