Chambers of Death

Chapter Fifteen

“How does Mariota?” Eleanor shut the chamber door quietly behind her.

Maud raised a cautionary finger to her lips and signaled for the prioress to follow her out of the room. When the widow saw the sheriff’s man leaning against the wall outside, however, she stepped back in dismay.

“Nothing more untoward has occurred,” Eleanor said. “Sir Reimund ordered a guard to protect me until Tobye’s murderer is captured.” Her voice gave no hint of her opinion about this gesture.

The man yawned, then flushed with evident embarrassment when his still sleepy eyes focused on the widow. “I beg…”

Maud waved his attempted apology aside. “I know the lad,” she explained to the prioress. Her composure restored, she turned her back to the man and lowered her voice. “The girl’s fever has broken, but she remains perilously weak. The barley broth seemed to help, and I did persuade her to sip some made of chicken, a remedy I have found to be more effective against a fever than those made of other meat. Still, she has little appetite and strength. Just before you arrived, she fell asleep again. May God be thanked, however, her breathing is easier.”

“There is reason for optimism?”

“When a fever snaps, there is always cause to hope, but Death is most stubborn, as we all well know. His rattling breath is still loud in the room.”

Eleanor nodded. “I shall give you relief by taking my turn watching over her. Since morning, you have had no respite and must be very weary.”

“Have you broken your fast, my lady?”

Eleanor bristled at the woman’s question but quickly prayed for calmer humors to return. After the sheriff’s insolence, her pride ached as if suffering an open wound against which salt had just been rubbed. She had grown too sensitive, she decided. The question had been brusquely asked, but she could truly find no ill intent.

“I beg forgiveness if I caused offense, my lady.” Maud’s pink cheeks deepened in color as the prioress remained silent. “My husband used to chide me about my thoughtless speech.”

“No disrespect was noted. I was only lost in some trivial thought,” Eleanor replied, relieved by the apology. Not only was she grateful for the widow’s competent care of Mariota, as well as her intervention when they all staggered in from the storm, but Eleanor had always preferred blunt honesty to falsehood sweetened with honeyed phrase. “Kind intent is never thoughtless,” she added with a smile.

The widow exhaled in obvious relief.

“As for nourishment, perhaps you would share some bread with me.” Eleanor gestured toward the stairs leading below. “I would welcome your company, and I assume you trust the servant you left in the chambers to be competent in her care of my charge.”

“If I did not, I never would have let her…” Maud firmly shut her mouth.

“Nor did I have any cause to doubt your decision.”

The two women smiled at each other, relieved to be in perfect understanding.

Walking toward the stone stairs, Eleanor did not bother to look over her shoulder.

Indeed, her guard was close behind.

***

When the trio arrived in the hall downstairs, the widow ordered a servant to bring some ale with fresh bread and led the prioress to a trestle table set by the fireplace. Eleanor invited the young guard to share the offerings when the jug and platter were put down in front of them.

His stomach growling thanks to match his words, he clutched a handful of bread, a pottery mug filled with new ale, and cheerfully settled at the far end of the table. Munching loudly, he left the prioress and the widow to chatter away as he perhaps assumed all women, whatever their rank or vocation, were wont to do.

Maud shivered despite the merry fire that snapped close by. “I pray this murder will not cause fear to invade the hearts of you and your party, my lady. This should be a place of refuge and no one should suffer unease.” She gestured toward the hall door. “Not that there haven’t been quarrels enough in my memory, but no more than is usual between men and most certainly never a slaying. We may all sin, but we are not prone to breaking that particular commandment against killing other mortals!”

“And I pray that the steward will not regret his kindness, concluding that our arrival has cursed him and somehow brought this wickedness about.”

“Master Stevyn is not superstitious, my lady.” Her eyes twinkled. “Some might even reproach him for not having sufficient faith in spiritual things, although his first wife most certainly made up for any lack.”

“Earlier, Brother Thomas and I knelt by Tobye’s corpse for some time, praying for his soul. We hoped that God would look favorably on our feeble pleas for mercy. Was the man especially wicked? I ask in case we did not pray long or ardently enough.”

“He was no greater sinner than most of us, my lady.” She rubbed her forefinger against her chin as she considered the prioress’ question. “A good man with horses. I’ll give him that. Never mistreated the beasts and had skill enough for healing their ills.”

Eleanor leaned forward, desiring to give the impression that she was just enjoying a good gossip, should anyone nearby care.

The guard seemed quite unconcerned as he continued to gnaw his food with evident content. Even the complaints of his growling stomach had muted.

“Had Tobye served this manor long?” the prioress asked. “The loss of a valued servant would be a great one.”

“Valued? Well, I suppose by Master Stevyn, a man that loves his hunting and will forgive much if his horses are healthy.” She shifted her weight on the bench, then quickly sipped her ale. “As for me, I found the fellow rude.”

“Indeed?”

“My words were ill-chosen, my lady. He did what was required and served the steward well. That was all anyone expected of him. In truth, he rarely spoke much, unless a fair woman came by. Then he was all smiles and bows and pleasing phrases.”

Eleanor did not think the widow’s reddened complexion was caused by the warming fire. Was it jealousy or sadness she heard in the woman’s words? As the prioress looked at Mistress Maud’s face, she concluded once again that she might not have been a beauty in her younger days, but surely she had had enough charm with those dimples and pink cheeks that young men smiled, bowed, and graced her with pretty enough phrases. Was it youth the widow now missed, resenting the loss more than she did Tobye’s flattering attention to others? Or did the serpent of jealousy coil around her heart?

A chill now coursed through the prioress as she suddenly realized how quickly youth must pass. For those without her faith and vocation, how did they cope if the heart still longed for love songs after the hair had grayed and the breasts sagged?

“Did the women like him in return?” Eleanor shaded her words with tolerant amusement.

“Master Stevyn’s first wife did not allow idle flirtations.” A shadow played on the widow’s face. “He supported her in this.”

“Yet the groom must have had his conquests nonetheless.”

“There have been rumors, but no wailing babes to prove the truth of them. Perhaps most were innocent enough. The cook took a liking to him, but she is no young girl and has never allowed any lover to come closer than the width of the kitchen table. No aging maidenhead was shattered there.”

Eleanor raised the cup of ale and sipped to hide her interest in this news. A cook was skilled with knives, for cert.

“Hilda may have slipped Tobye the occasional extra tidbit from the kitchen,” Maud continued, “but the master was wise enough to turn his eyes away from such insignificant acts.”

And might this Hilda have lost her reason when she discovered who shared her beloved’s bed?

“Tobye was clever enough to know the peril of offending a good master. He would have been discreet.”

Did Maud not know about Mistress Luce? Or was she aware of the adultery and wished to protect the wife from some stranger’s reproach? Eleanor remained silent about her suspicions and what she had seen near the outlying buildings. “A wise groom for a wiser master,” she replied instead.

“A man who might have had cause to learn hard lessons, my lady, but who amongst us has not?”

The prioress raised an eyebrow at that and was about to ask what she meant, but Maud now pointedly changed the topic to the amount of rain the area was suffering compared to prior years.

Why had she so swiftly moved away from the subject of Tobye’s murder? Not that Eleanor failed to understand why a widow, in particular, might not wish to dwell long on any more death, especially a frightening and cruel murder, but the prioress did wonder whether unease was the motive. Instead, did Maud fear she might let some secret slip?

But now was clearly not the time to pursue the issue further, thus Eleanor chatted amiably, pushing all darker thoughts aside, as if she truly cared about the rain.