Covenant With Hell

Chapter Twenty

Prioress Ursell rose from her prie-dieu and brushed dust from her robe. Her nail snagged on the rough cloth and tore a small hole. Glaring at the spot, she knew she must mend it herself. Ryehill was too poor to allow her to hire a maid, and the nun who served instead was a pitiful creature who never cleaned properly and stuck more needles in fingers than cloth.

As the prioress walked into her audience chamber, she was pleased to note the snapping fire in the grate. At least one duty had been performed properly.

The day was as chill as her mood.

Her orisons just now had been personal, and offering her distress to God had briefly calmed her. She had been shattered by the revelation of Sister Roysia’s wickedness, a woman she had trusted with any secrets heard and with the knowledge of how she handled them. Letting a nun under her rule have that privilege was a delicate decision. She had erred in judging the woman suitable. Sister Roysia’s betrayal had wounded her deeply.

Now she must choose another to stand inside the chambers when she had dealings with worldly men. The one she had picked for the meeting with Master Larcher was useless. Although Prioress Ursell used fear on occasion to achieve obedience, she understood that too much of it bred rebellion, and so she had only mentioned briefly to the nun that hellfire awaited those who disobeyed their religious leaders. After she had met with the craftsman and the nun had fled to the infirmarian, vomiting the little she had eaten at the last meal, the prioress concluded that the woman had no stomach for the duties of an attendant.

Prioress Ursell was too upset to note her own unconscious witticism.

As she considered the possible choices amongst her nuns to replace Sister Roysia, she regretted how few were in her charge. She knew all their weaknesses and strengths, but no name rose to mind. An aged one whose hearing had dulled might be best, she thought, but even her sole elderly nun was blessed with sharp ears.

She heard a rough scratching at her chamber door. The practice annoyed her, and today the balance of her humors was still fragile. “Enter!” she barked.

A nun walked into the room, head bowed, and hands modestly clasped.

“Why have you come to me?”

“Over a troubling matter, my lady.”

“Speak, but be brief.” Ursell settled herself into her chair and waved the woman to a spot a few feet in front of her.

“I do not judge what I have witnessed, for that is not my privilege, but the incident is one I believe you must hear about.”

Ursell hoped this was not another complaint about special friendships or taking an extra bite at supper. Such things were duly punished, and she must be informed, but she had no patience with little frailties today. “Continue.”

“The prioress of Tyndal went to walk in the cloister garden after the last Office. There she met with the nun who was so ardently favored by Sister Roysia. You know her as…”

Ursell waved that away. “Your purpose, Sister.” Yet she was now interested in what this woman was saying. Studying her, she recalled that this nun had occasionally come to her with offenses that merited more than a minor penance from the guilty one. As she thought about it, she also recalled that she was one of the few in Ryehill Priory not to admire Sister Roysia.

“She has told this guest of our priory that Sister Roysia met secretly with a man in the bell tower, although she also swore that our sister claimed they did not do so for any evil purpose.” Her mouth pursed with contempt. “I do not know if this tale is true, but I was shocked that anyone in our priory would say such a thing to a stranger.”

“She mentioned this wickedness to Prioress Eleanor, a woman who has no cause to know of it?” Ursell began to tremble. “Were it even true, of course!”

“She did, my lady.”

“What else did this child of the Devil say?”

“That there was another who witnessed these meetings.”

Prioress Ursell leapt from her chair, her face pale with horror. “Who?”

“This guest, unappreciative of our hospitality, did ask our disloyal sister, but no name was spoken.”

The leader of Ryehill Priory began to pace, fury replacing astonishment. “Prioress Eleanor questioned her,” she muttered. “She dared to interrogate one of my nuns without my permission or my presence.”

“Although I have no right to judge, my lady, I confess I was shocked that this lady of Tyndal behaved in this discourteous manner.” She shook her head. “Forgive me if I err, but I believe she ought to have refused to listen to our wayward sister as soon as she understood the nature of the tale. She has no authority here and should have closed her ears to these scandalous words.” Looking up, she shifted her gaze to the cross on the wall. “If the tale were true, only you have the right to know of it and render judgment, not a stranger.”

“You did well to come to me with this,” the prioress said.

As she looked at the nun standing meekly in front of her, she was reminded of herself at that more youthful age. How could she have been bewitched with Sister Roysia when it was this nun she should have chosen for her attendant? There was no adoring crowd around her, and the woman prayed with quiet fervor. Neither disliked nor liked, she walked about the priory with head down and eyes alert. No one noticed her. Yet she had just proven how deeply she cared about the priory’s reputation. Indeed, Prioress Ursell thought, she understands the importance as much as I.

Gesturing for the nun to kneel, the prioress gave her a blessing and graced her with a rare smile. The woman’s face betrayed no smugness over the new favor she had found with her prioress, but Ursell was certain she understood that the news had pleased.

“For now, I shall not reprove our untrustworthy sister until I learn how much of her heart Satan has possessed. Be my eyes and ears in this. If she seeks out the prioress of Tyndal again to continue her scandalous talk, come to me at once. Should any discussions of Sister Roysia’s virtue be held by any of our religious with anyone, I want the names, places, and details of their conversations.”

The nun swore to obey, bowed humbly to her leader, and left in silence.

Prioress Ursell was filled with anger and a longing for retribution. She knew that some in Walsingham had heard gossip of Sister Roysia’s sins, but a rumor with no proof may fade away or be countered. Unlike that nun who had returned from the arms of her chapman great with child, Sister Roysia had died before there was similar evidence of wickedness. As for her religious, she feared from the beginning that the story could not be kept from them, but she would forbid discussion of it.

But this chattering sister, this treasonous prattler, had spoken of the scandal to a stranger and presented the tale as truth. The punishment meted out to this creature would be long and harsh. As for Prioress Eleanor, she must find some way of silencing her.

Looking up at the stark cross on the wall near her carved chair, Prioress Ursell swore an oath that this matter of Sister Roysia and Master Larcher would be ended now before the scandal grew like a virulent cancer. When the nun died, she thought the rumors would as well, but she was troubled by the new arrogance shown by the craftsman.

“We are poor enough,” she muttered. “We cannot suffer greater loss because of what has happened here.”

Walking to the chamber door, she threw it open and ordered a messenger sent to Father Vincent. Master Larcher must be dealt with, finally, harshly, and now. As for this obnoxious prioress from Tyndal, Ursell would make sure the woman learned there was a penalty for insulting the leader of Ryehill.