“There’s more, Prior.”
“What more could there be?” Was Father Avery seeing more than one woman? Prior Jacob wondered. It wouldn’t matter really, since although his sin would be compounded in the eyes of God, Prior Jacob had what he needed on the priest and wished to hear no more of his transgressions.
“The boy, Edwin, is this woman’s son, Prior. I heard Father Avery and the woman speaking of him when he escorted her home last week. Father Avery is the boy’s natural father.”
“What?” Prior Jacob cried. He’d suspected that Avery was succumbing to lustful urges, something that wasn’t all that unusual among members of the clergy, but to find out that he’d known this woman all throughout his priesthood and had fathered a child by her, a child who seemed to be afflicted with possible demonic possession, was news indeed.
“Are you sure, Friar Matthew?”
“Yes. I distinctly heard the woman say, ‘but Avery, he is your son, and you have a duty to him.’”
“Thank you, Friar Matthew. You have done me and this priory a great service. It is a sordid task you’ve had to perform, but you have done your fellow friars an inestimable service, and God will reward you for your honesty and devotion to his glory.”
“Yes, Prior,” Matthew mumbled. “May I go now?”
“Of course. And Friar Matthew, please make no mention of this revelation to the others. I must carefully consider a course of action before making this information public.”
Matthew looked as if the very last thing on earth he wished to do was discuss Father Avery’s proclivities with the other friars. He bowed his head, genuflected as he gazed upon the crucifix on the wall, and fled.
Prior Jacob reached for the jug and poured more mead into his cup. He brought the cup to his lips and drank deeply, his reservations about strong drink forgotten in view of Matthew’s confession. He’d hoped for something he could use against Father Avery should the priest wish to challenge the prior’s position, but he hadn’t bargained on a secret of this magnitude. Father Avery was clearly corrupt, and had been since the day he entered the seminary, and now his sins had been visited on his son, who was possessed of the devil. Prior Jacob didn’t need to consult the Scripture, the passages came to his mind unbidden, and were frighteningly appropriate.
“And they brought him unto him: and when he saw him, straightway the spirit tare him; and he fell on the ground, and wallowed foaming. And he asked his father, How long is it ago since this came unto him? And he said, Of a child.” Mark (9:20-21).
“Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments.”
Prior Jacob finished his mead and hurried from the study, heading straight for the church. He needed to pray on this before he shared this foul knowledge with the other friars. He needed guidance and the light of God’s grace.
Prior Jacob’s head was bent in prayer as he knelt before the altar, speaking to God as if he were an understanding father. The prior never regarded conversations with the Lord as being one-sided. What many people failed to understand was that if one stopped talking and truly listened, God provided an answer. It didn’t always come immediately. Sometimes the answer came in the middle of the night — a rustling whisper in one’s mind — but as clear as a bell. At other times, the response came as an action or a comment from another person which seemed to directly answer the question Jacob had asked only a short while ago.
“Dear Lord,” Prior Jacob whispered. “It is my duty as the prior of Greyfriars and as a man who has devoted his life to your service to denounce Father Avery, but is it my duty in this case to accuse the child and condemn him? Is it not my holy responsibility to try to offer him protection and salvation? Can his soul be redeemed, or has evil taken root, the devil now in full possession of his soul?”
If that were the case, there would be only one path open to Prior Jacob. He would have to drive the devil out, and purify the priory which was now tainted by association. Prior Jacob hoped that God, in his mercy and wisdom, would allow him to save Edwin. He was hardly more than a child, an innocent vessel of evil, and an unwitting product of carnal sin. Prior Jacob’s head snapped to attention as he heard the slapping of leather against stone as several pairs of feet made their way down the nave toward him.
“Prior,” Friar Gregory cried out. “Prior Jacob, the boy Edwin has had another fit. It’s lasted longer this time. He’s possessed of the evil spirit, and something must be done at once.”
Prior Jacob rose laboriously to his feet. He assumed that Edwin had left for the day and no decision would need to be made tonight, but it was no later than five in the evening, and Edwin was evidently still at the priory.
“Thank you,” he said quietly and crossed himself as he gazed up at the serene countenance of Jesus Christ. Jacob had his answer.
“Where is Edwin now?”
“Father Avery offered to take him home. They left not five minutes ago,” Friar Oswald spat out. He was angry, his face florid with indignation. “We should go in pursuit.”
Prior Jacob raised his hand, palm out, signaling for the friars to calm down. “We will hold a meeting and decide on the best course of action together. There’s some information I must share with you all. Friar Owen, please advise the brothers that there will be a meeting after the evening meal tonight. Father Avery will be in the chapel, taking his turn at Perpetual Adoration, so we will be able to speak freely. I will remain at prayer until then.”
Prior Jacob returned to his cell and sank to his knees in front of the wooden crucifix affixed to the wall. He would have preferred to remain at the church, but knew that he would not be able to pray without interruption, and he needed to marshal his thoughts and give his full attention to the Lord. This was a serious matter, and even though God seemed to have made his position clear, Prior Jacob still wished to handle this matter with the utmost diligence. He remained immobile for over an hour, then genuflected and got to his feet. His knees were sore, and he was stiff with cold, but his conscience was clear. He knew the way forward, and would put his proposal to the friars directly after supper.
Prior Jacob waited until the monks finished their meal then took his place at the pulpit from which the scripture was read before every meal. He quickly but thoroughly outlined what he’d learned and then waited patiently for the uproar to die down. Some of the brothers were riled, their faces flushed with anger and disbelief. They called for drastic measures, which they wished to see carried out immediately. Others, like Friar William, remained quiet, their eyes downcast. Prior Jacob sympathized with their feelings.
“Brothers,” Prior Jacob called, raising his hands to ask for silence. “I have prayed on this matter, and I feel that it would be the right thing to turn this matter over to the diocese. The bishop can investigate the allegations and decide on a course of action. As an order of friars, I don’t believe it’s our responsibility to mete out any punishment to Father Avery or try to exorcise the demons that plague young Edwin. I ask for your support in this decision.”
Prior Jacob knew there would be dissent among the brothers since some would take a hard line, while others would plead for clemency, but hoped that common sense would prevail. They were an order of Franciscan Friars, not bishops, cardinals, or even priests. It wasn’t their place to hold a trial and condemn the accused. And he had no wish, perhaps selfishly, to take responsibility for what happened to father and son.
“And what of the woman?” Friar Gregory cried out. “Is she to avoid punishment for her sorcery? She bewitched a man of the cloth, and she belongs in Hell, as the Scriptures clearly tells us.
“Revelation 21:8: ‘But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth
with fire and brimstone: which is the second death,’” he spat out, eyes blazing.
The hall exploded into chaos, friars quoting the scriptures at each other to support their points of view. Prior Jacob allowed them a few minutes before calling for order. He expected this kind of reaction to the news, but the vehemence with which some of the friars called for punishment surprised even him.
“Those in favor of turning this matter over to our superiors, raise your hands,” Prior Jacob said, praying that rational thinking would prevail.
“Those in favor of taking action against Father Avery, his woman, and their son, raise your hands.”
Prior Jacob breathed a sigh of relief. The vote was fifteen to eleven in favor of turning the matter over to the diocese.
“And so, it has been decided. I will write an account and deliver it in person to Bishop Harrington. Friar Matthew, I would ask you to write down what you saw, in your own words. The bishop will find it most helpful, I think. Now, let’s all return to our cells. I believe we can all benefit from a period of quiet prayer and contemplation.”
The friars filed out of the refectory hall. Some appeared to be relieved, while others grumbled beneath their breath, dissatisfied with the decision. They dared not say it out loud, but they thought Prior Jacob weak and ineffective. Perhaps Prior Jacob’s predecessor would have handled the matter differently, but as far as Jacob knew, he’d never had to tackle anything of this magnitude. Prior Jacob walked briskly back to his cell, all too conscious of the angry stares boring into his back. If this was a test of his ability to lead the brothers, then so be it. He would accept whatever the good Lord, in his infinite wisdom, saw fit to do.
Chapter 51
Petra accepted Thomas’s arm as she stepped carefully on the icy path leading from the church to the lych-gate. Thomas had joined them for Sunday Mass just as he’d promised, and Petra invited him to dinner. She’d been careful with her wages and made economies whenever possible, but yesterday she splurged on a seat of mutton and purchased a small bag of fine, white flour rather than the coarse brown kind she usually used to make bread. Maude made some mushed peas to accompany the mutton, dipping into the store of dried peas Petra kept on hand. She used bits of fat from the mutton and added hyssop, leaves of sage, and old bread to make the dish thicker and more filling. Thomas would not be terribly impressed, but at least he wouldn’t leave hungry.
Petra rose before dawn to bake a seed cake, which would be served with prunes stewed in wine and honey, for added sweetness. She’d been terribly nervous on the way to St. Leonard’s, but once she saw Thomas waiting for her just outside the church porch, she began to relax. He was dressed simply, not wishing to stand out next to Petra’s modestly-dressed family, and made much over the children after offering a deferential greeting to Maude.
“Just watch your step there,” Thomas said, and turned to Edwin who had his arm linked through that of his grandmother. “Keep a tight hold of her, Edwin. Tis slippery over yonder.”
“Yes, my lord,” Edwin replied, gripping Maude so hard she cried out. Edwin slowed his pace to match that of his grandmother, who took tiny steps, fearful of falling. At her age, bones were as fragile as twigs, and took ages to heal if broken. One of the neighbors took a fall two winters ago, and had been limping ever since, her leg not having healed properly. Maude sighed and continued forward carefully. She had no wish to become a burden to Petra, or to her future husband. Lord Thomas would be taking on enough as was, what with three children to support. He does seem besotted, Maude thought as she watched the couple. I hope Petra doesn’t frighten him off. Coyness is for young maidens, not middle-aged women, widowed, and thrice brought to child bed. It would be a rare blessing if Petra could give Lord Thomas a son, Maude mused as she finally reached the end of the path and released Edwin’s arm. A man like Lord Thomas needed a son to carry on his legacy and inherit his wealth. Maude glanced at Edwin. Perhaps he would benefit from this union if Petra failed to conceive.
You’re jumping ahead of yourself, old woman, Maude chided herself mentally. First, let’s get these two to the altar.
Her reverie was interrupted when Elia, who brought up the rear with her sister, laughed uproariously and clapped her hands with glee. Ora lost her footing and landed on her backside beside the path, her expression of embarrassment and outrage almost comical. “Serves you right,” Elia chuckled. “You needed taking down a peg or two, you stuck-up cow.”
Ora got to her feet and pushed her sister into the nearest puddle, which was just beginning to thaw in the noonday sun. Elia cried out in shock as the freezing water instantly soaked into her skirts. Ora planted her hands on her hips and glared at her sister. “Stuck up cow, is it? Well, at least I don’t look like a sow rolling in muck.”
“Girls, please,” Petra cried out, embarrassed by their unseemly behavior. Her daughters normally got along, but something had gotten into them these past few weeks, making them snipe at each other incessantly. Maude said that girls often became moody and irritable before the onset of their courses. Elia and Ora were still children at heart, but their young bodies told a different tale. Already they were changing, evolving from girls into young women, and with Petra not there to supervise and advise them, they were getting out of hand.
“Sorry, Mother,” they said in unison, their eyes downcast. It was bad enough to behave like feuding fishwives at home, but to carry on like this in front of someone of higher station was inexcusable. “Please forgive our bad manners, my lord,” Ora said, including her sister in the apology, despite the fact that she had been the one to push her into the snow. Petra gave Ora an evil look, but didn’t say anything more. She’d say her piece later, when Thomas wasn’t there to overhear it. The girls were told to make a good impression on him, and they’d just ruined everything. Perhaps that’s what they intended to do, Petra thought as she glanced at Thomas to see his reaction. If he became their stepfather, he’d have the ultimate say in everything affecting the girls, and since their experience of male authority was based only on their father, who was unjust and harsh at the best to times, they could be frightened of how their lives would be altered.
“They’re only children,” Thomas said, noting Petra’s mortified expression. “Pay them no heed. They’ll be grown women all too soon, and you’ll miss their playfulness.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right, Thomas. Perhaps we expect them to grow up too quickly.”
They resumed their walk, the girls now quiet and contrite as they ambled behind. Edwin was still walking with Maude, solicitous as ever, but noticeably distracted. He’d been quiet and withdrawn for the past few days, and seemed awfully eager to attend church this morning. Petra might have asked Avery if Edwin’s apprenticeship was going well, but she hadn’t seen him in over a week and was determined to maintain her resolve. Today’s dinner was crucial to her plans, since her flow was several days late. She had been late before, especially during periods of great strain, but this time it was different. She was an unmarried woman who’d lain with a man; she had every reason to worry. Petra supposed that, in a way, this was the push she needed to fully commit to Thomas. She planned to speak to him after the meal, but the children had fallen behind, and they had a few minutes of privacy before they reached the house.
“Thomas, forgive my impatience, but I have given our union much consideration and thought that perhaps we should bring the wedding forward,” Petra mumbled. She’d rehearsed her speech many times in her head, but now that the words were out, she felt embarrassed and vulnerable.
Thomas stopped and turned to face her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Is that so?” he asked, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I thought myself lucky to be invited for a meal at your house, but now I see you had a celebration of a different kind in mind all along. Shall we set a wedding date today then?”
Petra blushed furiously. Now that the deed was done, she felt an immense sense of relief. Thomas hadn’t thought her forward, nor did he hesitate
in his reply. “I would like that,” Petra replied shyly.
“And when shall we marry, my sweet? I know you’re still in mourning for your husband, but I’m no longer a young man, so time is of great value to me. The sooner the better, I say,” he said, smiling into Petra’s eyes.
Had Petra genuinely mourned her husband, she would have preferred to wait the usual period of a year, which would be up in the autumn, but given her trysts with Avery, she wasn’t sure she could afford to bow to the dictates of propriety. If her courses arrived within the next week, she could wait, but if they didn’t, a speedy wedding would be best.
“Perhaps we should decide on a date once we’ve shared our intention with your family, but I think early next month would suit me very well,” Petra replied, hoping that this would be soon enough to mask a pregnancy, if there was one. Many children came early, so a seven-month baby wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows, but if they waited to marry until the end of April she would be taking too much of a risk.
“How very considerate you are,” Thomas said, linking his arm with hers once again. “I think my mother would love an excuse for hosting a feast. It’s been a long time since the house saw any merriment, and Robert would like nothing more than to toast our future happiness, again and again,” Thomas added. Robert liked his wine, and became even more boisterous with every additional cup.
Petra’s nervousness began to ebb as Thomas continued to speak of the future. She knew that Lady Blythe was not pleased with his choice of bride, but Thomas seemed certain, and that was all that mattered. An image of Avery sprang into Petra’s mind, his body silvered by moonlight as he lay next her, his face serene in repose. How happy she’d been just to gaze upon him, and drink in his beloved features, but now it would be Thomas who would be lying next to her. She did not love him, nor did her body flush with desire at the thought of sharing a bed with him, but he was an attractive man in his own right, so Petra hoped that the intimate side of the marriage would not be repulsive to her. At any rate, it couldn’t be any worse than it had been with Cyril.
The Forgotten (Echoes from the Past Book 2) Page 27