Satan's Lullaby

Chapter Twenty-eight

With the stride of one confident of God’s favor, Davoir entered the audience chamber. When he saw those who had gathered to greet him, he hesitated. The surprise displeased him.

Brother Thomas and Crowner Ralf stood on either side of Prioress Eleanor. To her left sat Sister Ruth. Her hands clasped and head bowed, the elder nun failed to greet the priest, mumbling instead a long prayer. Standing beside the troubled woman was Sister Christina, forehead creased as she gazed down with concern.

Gracia approached the priest, bobbed with courtesy, and offered him a mazer.

When Davoir looked into it, he was astonished to see red wine. He looked at the prioress and raised an eyebrow

“When souls or bodies need healing, Father,” she said without the trace of a smile, “we may drink wine.” Then she gestured for him to sit.

He did. Not knowing how to respond to that statement, he remained silent and sipped at his mazer. The wine was of good enough quality, he thought, but not as fine as the offerings at the French court.

“I shall be brief,” the prioress said. “I have called you here because Sister Ruth has information you must hear. I believe her news will be quite enlightening, especially about the reason you were sent here.”

The nun struggled to rise to her feet.

“Do not stand,” Eleanor said. “God has sent you suffering enough, and your tale is hard to relate.”

Ruth flushed but gratefully collapsed back into the chair. “You are most kind, my lady, and your compassion is an example to us all.”

Impatient with what he considered dawdling, Davoir cleared his throat.

Sister Ruth glared at him.

Eleanor gazed with benign amusement at the nun. No matter how grieved her nemesis was, the woman had not lost her ability to display stern displeasure. For once the prioress was pleased. Father Etienne had deserved the look. “Take your time,” she said sweetly. “The story is worth a careful telling.”

Ruth sat up, back rigid, and hands modestly folded in her lap. “As I told you when you came to question me, Father, I was convinced that any accusation of unchaste conduct between our revered prioress and the respected Brother Thomas lacked all merit. Yet I remained troubled because of the utter falseness of the allegation and wondered why anyone would dare utter such outrageous lies.” She briefly looked at the prioress and the monk with deep sorrow, then turned her attention to Davoir. “After you left my chambers, I thought more on this vile tale and, to my horror, realized the probable basis for the claim.”

“Probable?” Davoir smiled with no attempt to conceal his disdain, then shook his head as if rebuking a wearisome child. “I need more than speculation as to intent and origin.”

The nun reddened and grasped her hands more firmly. “I did not come to Prioress Eleanor with frivolous imaginings, Father. Our duties to God do not allow us time to indulge in such idle things.”

The priest blinked. Once again, this woman pleased him with her plain speech and lack of foolishness. She would have made a fine prioress and must rule her charges with an iron hand, he thought, then bowed his head. The gesture lacked all hint of apology but did convey his acceptance of her argument.

“My brother is the source of this rumor sent to our abbess in Anjou,” Ruth said, then winced. It was unclear whether the pain was the result of her admission or the gout in her toes. “I confess I do not have proof, but I have good cause to say so.”

Eleanor fingered the carving on the arm of her chair as she addressed the priest. “Did Abbess Isabeau reveal to you the source of the accusation?”

“My sister did not tell me who had made the claim. I found no purpose in asking. The charge was so grave that the substance took precedence over the accuser, in my estimation.”

“I am sure she knows and believed she had grounds to take the tale seriously,” Ruth snapped. “Our abbess would not have asked you to leave court to come here if the source of the accusation had been truly unknown, probably mean-spirited, and she could resolve it by a simpler method.” She took a deep breath. “I shall be brief, Father. My brother is of high rank, a baron in the service of our king. He is in Wales with Sir Hugh, the brother of our prioress. These two men have quarreled, which my brother told me in a letter received not long ago, and King Edward chose to support Sir Hugh.” She looked at her prioress with a pained expression.

The prioress gestured to signify her opinion that quarrels were the nature of mortals and that kings must take sides.

“Why did they argue?” Davoir frowned.

“The subject of the dispute is irrelevant, Father Etienne,” Eleanor said. “Suffice it to say that it involved a matter which touched family interests and therefore honor. The brother of Sister Ruth is not a man who would retaliate so fiercely for anything less.” Her tone was surprisingly kind.

He sipped his wine, and then motioned for the nun to continue.

“I must tell you that my brother and I both resented the arrival of Prioress Eleanor to head Tyndal many years ago. I had been elected by the community to follow Prioress Felicia after her death. When King Henry chose to set aside my election, I suffered profound humiliation, as did my brother.” Ruth’s face turned the color of a mildewed cherry. “Satan entered our souls and cut a festering wound there that became as foul as gangrene. Since my brother is a man of the world, he might be quickly forgiven the sins of resentment and longing for retribution. As a bride of Christ, I cannot.”

Sister Christina put a hand on the woman’s shoulder and looked in the direction of Brother Thomas. Her eyes glistened with pleading.

The monk raised his hand, showed his palm so the infirmarian might see his gesture, and placed his hand against his heart.

At this sign that mercy was possible for the woman beside her, Sister Christina nodded, and closed her eyes with relief.

“After learning the king’s response to this disagreement with Sir Hugh, my brother wrote to me, confessing his anger but also stating that he was now confident he had found a way to answer the insult and also return me to, as he called it, my rightful place as head of Tyndal Priory.” Ruth pressed her hand against her eyes as if forbidding them to weep. “Not long after I received this message, Prioress Eleanor told us that Abbess Isabeau was sending her brother to our priory to conduct a thorough review of our practices here.”

“Why did you not tell your prioress then about what your brother wrote?” Davoir raised his mazer so Gracia could fill it.

Sister Ruth narrowed her eyes at him. “Your visit was unusual but not completely unexpected, Father, and there was nothing in the abbess’ message to suggest the grave magnitude of this investigation. Other priories are visited by the bishop under whose rule they live, but our Order answers to Rome and we to Abbess Isabeau. In the past, she has only required annual accounts. Prior Andrew has provided those. I had no reason to suspect there was a connection between my brother and your arrival here. None, that is, until you told me of the vile lie that brought you here.” She sniffed in contempt. “Mold in the chapel, a badly repaired wall, or even incompetent accounting might bring advice or at most a rebuke, but a prioress condemned for immorality is removed from her office. It was then I saw my brother’s hand.”

Davoir gazed over the lip of his mazer at the prioress. “You said nothing about your own brother’s quarrel with the baron when we spoke.”

“My brother rarely sends me news,” Eleanor replied. “I knew none of this.”

The priest looked back at the nun. “Nor did you mention yours. You should have sent me a message as soon as you concluded that your brother had chosen to slander your prioress so you might regain the rank of leader here.”

Sister Ruth grabbed the arms of her chair and rose to her feet, then cried out in pain and fell back into the chair.

Eleanor pointed toward the corner of the room.

Gracia ran to fetch a stool so the older woman’s afflicted foot might rest more comfortably.

“My first duty is to my prioress, Father,” the nun gasped, then caught her breath. “It was she who was injured by this folly, and I owed her the confession. I now sit before you and have told my tale. Is that not sufficient?”

He shrugged his shoulders, a gesture belittling the merit of her choice.

“Hear me well, Father!” The nun’s voice rose, and her knuckles were white as she grasped the arms of the chair to control her fury. “I love and honor my brother. As his eldest sister, I helped raise him after the death of our mother. To imagine that he would cast filth on these two religious, known by all for their virtue and service to God, was unthinkable.” Again she covered her eyes. “I spent hours on my knees to God, begging for guidance, even hoping that my suspicions were the result of my tormenting mortal pains. But the facts match and, although he has not said he was the source of this rumor, I am sure either he or Abbess Isabeau would confirm, if asked, that he wrote to her.”

Davoir turned thoughtful. This woman was not one prone to fantasy, and the admission of this conclusion had cost her dear. That she had told Prioress Eleanor first might be a questionable decision, but he could understand it. In fact, their delay before informing him was a trifling thing.

As the nun looked at Prioress Eleanor, the woman’s anger was replaced with sorrow. “Although I did not have pre-knowledge of this appalling deed by my brother, or any involvement in perpetrating his scheme, my sinful resentment and failure to completely rid my heart of bitterness over my humiliation years ago makes me complicit in the troubles brought upon these innocent people. I have resigned my position as sub-prioress and have begged to be reassigned to the lowliest duties normally done by a lay sister.”

Prioress Eleanor let silence fall so that the full meaning of Sister Ruth’s words would be understood. Finally, she said, “Are you satisfied, Father?”

He did not reply, choosing to study the color of his wine.

“Let me also clarify one other matter,” the nun said, gritting her teeth. “I have learned that you accused Sister Anne of killing your clerk, either because she is incompetent or because she was trying to protect Prioress Eleanor.”

Davoir looked up from his contemplation and nodded, but he seemed surprised that this issue was being mentioned at all.

“Then you must listen closely.” The nun indicated her scarlet toe joint that was so inflamed it visibly throbbed. “Although I have often criticized our sub-infirmarian for using herbs and infusions when prayer is preferable, I cannot quarrel with the success of her cures. Our hospital is famous across the land for the efficacy of…” She hesitated, then gestured at Sister Christina, “…of the work done by these two women who toil unceasingly to save lives. Until you ordered her locked into a cell, Sister Anne used the same remedy for my gout that you say she used to kill your clerk. I have found much relief in that cure, until now when I cannot get any more of it due to her absence.”

“Most regrettable,” Davoir muttered.

“And if Sister Anne wanted to kill anyone to relieve Prioress Eleanor of a troublesome creature, Father, it would have been me. She knows how long I have resented our prioress, how often I have argued against her decisions, and how much I disagree with the sub-infirmarian on the care of the dying.” Sister Ruth straightened in the chair and pointed to herself. “Yet I sit here, many years after the arrival of our beloved and honored prioress, quite alive. And, if you would admit your error and let her go, I might even become well again instead of suffering as I do!”