Tyrant of the Mind

Chapter Thirty-Three

The light of the following morning brought no joy. Thomas’ face was drained of color. He was the most reluctant of messengers.

“Be assured, my lady, that Sir Geoffrey died peacefully,” the monk said, quickly tucking his hands out of sight as if they were stained with blood he wished to hide from the widow’s sight.

Isabelle’s wail would have sent tears down the cheeks of the most hardened of men.

Juliana drew her friend into her arms with the tenderness of a mother, resting her cheek on the top of Isabelle’s head. “Then he was not in pain last night when he died, brother?” she asked, her eyes as dark and inscrutable as they had been when she and Thomas stood together on that snow-swept parapet.

“Bleeding to death is a gentle passing. Moreover, your father’s soul was at peace. As Baron Adam asked, I remained with your father for his confession, after which he said I could leave for I had given him all the consolation he needed. In that you may find comfort.”

“Was my lord father able to see him after the confession as he wished or was Sir Geoffrey too weak?” Eleanor’s look was sympathetic. She poured a mazer cup of wine and handed it to Thomas. “Drink, brother. You need this.”

Thomas gratefully took the offered wine and swallowed with more enthusiasm than thirst. “He was weary but begged to see your father. I waited outside the door in case either of them needed me. When the baron left Sir Geoffrey, he said the knight had fallen into a calm sleep and that no one, not even Sister Anne, should disturb his friend’s rest. Indeed, he said, Sir Geoffrey would have little enough peace in the days to come. At least your father was able to see him before he died.” He took another long draught of the wine. “I cannot help wondering if there was something I could have…”

“Nay, brother, wonder not,” Eleanor said. “You could have done nothing to prevent his death. Of that I can assure you. Sister Anne has said that Sir Geoffrey was so agitated when he confessed his guilt that his wound might have reopened, but the bleeding would have been slow. None of us could have noticed it until it was too late and, when my father thought Sir Geoffrey was falling asleep, he may have been slipping into God’s hands.”

Eleanor turned to the two grieving women. “God’s many mercies are often mysterious. We all heard Sir Geoffrey say he wanted no part of the hangman. Perhaps God answered his prayer. His soul would have been at peace with God so soon after confession, and God must have been at peace with Sir Geoffrey to have granted him such a kind death.”

Thomas drained his cup. The prioress poured him another.

“Be at peace too, brother,” Eleanor said. “Thanks to you, Sir Geoffrey died with a cleansed soul and will be buried in consecrated ground, which would not have been possible had he died at his own hand.” Then she reached over and lightly touched his arm. “Sister Anne might need your help with Father Anselm. And with our mutual nephew. You may go to them now, if you would.”

Thomas continued to stare into his empty cup, then started as her words registered. He looked up at Eleanor. He could feel a modest heat flood across his face. With some surprise, he noted that his prioress’ face was also flushed.

“Yes, brother, I did hear that I have gained one more brother and one more sister than were kin to me before this winter. Sister Anne has told me that Richard calls you Uncle and she has been dubbed Aunt.”

“I did not encourage…” he began.

“Come now, brother! You know Richard. He needed no enticing but had good reason of his own for taking you both into this family. I do honor his decision. With the taking of our vows, we three have always been kin in God, but after all we have been through together since my coming to the priory, I believe we may claim a closer mortal relationship as well.”

“My lady, you are kind…”

Eleanor waved her hand at him. “Go and see to the sick, brother. I will stay with the Lady Isabelle and the Lady Juliana.”

***

As the door closed behind the priest, Eleanor shut her eyes so tightly they hurt, her body once more begging for a far closer bonding with the monk than that of brother and sister. Then, taking a deep breath, she faced the two women. “I share your grief over the loss of Sir Geoffrey, a good and honorable man who saved my own father’s life.”

“He was that, my lady, as well as a kind father to me,” Juliana said. She tried to move but found it difficult to pry herself from Isabelle’s grasp.

“Nay, Juliana, stay close to me.” Isabelle looked up at her stepdaughter, revealing as she did a face ashen with fatigue and eyes red from so many tears. “Now that your father is dead, you cannot go to Tyndal. Surely you see that.”

Juliana turned her head away from Isabelle and frowned, but Eleanor saw pain in the look, not anger.

Isabelle fumbled at her stepdaughter’s hands. “You can pray all you like in the chapel at Lavenham. There is no need for a more distant cloistering.” The corners of her mouth turned vaguely upward, but the smile was feeble. “You must stay with me. Think of how much I need your comfort and companionship now. My oldest friend. My dearest sister.” She pulled Juliana’s hands to her breast and looked at Eleanor. “Sir Geoffrey may have murdered Henry, but he was a good husband to me as he was a good father to Juliana. I shall not marry another but will remain a widow for the rest of my days.” She reached out to touch Juliana’s face. “Hear me, my sweet friend, for I share your desire to remain unmarried! I swear to take mantle and ring in front of the bishop with a vow of chastity for the remainder of my life. Thus you need not marry either, don’t you see? You can stay and give me consolation. We can give each other succor in our prayers, two sisters bound in grief.” Isabelle tugged at Juliana’s robe and laughed, but the sound held little mirth.

As gently as she could, Juliana pushed her hands away, walked to Eleanor and knelt in front of her. “I still beg admission to Tyndal as an anchoress, my lady,” she said, her voice muted but her words firmly spoken.

“No!” Isabelle screamed. “You cannot do this. There is no need!”

“Hush, Isabelle,” Juliana said.

Isabelle threw herself down on the rush-covered floor and crawled to the kneeling woman. She wrapped her arms around her stepdaughter’s legs and pressed her head into the back of Juliana’s thighs. “Don’t you see that God has answered both our prayers?” Her voice was muffled and hoarse. “When I married your father, I knew he was an old man and must soon die. His death now, however, is surely a sign from God! As a widow, I have enough income from my lands for both of us to live in peace and comfort. George will not force you to marry Robert nor anyone you do not fancy. God surely means for the two of us to live, as we have…”

Tears began to flow down Juliana’s cheeks. “It is you who does not understand, Isabelle. I do not want to share a life with you. My calling to become an anchoress is a true one.”

“You cannot leave me! I will not be left alone again!” As Isabelle struggled to her knees, she grabbed the front of her robe, ripping the fabric of her dress from neck to waist and clawing deep ridges into her chest. Blood quickly filled the wounds and flowed down her body in crooked rivulets.

Eleanor and Juliana stared at her in shock.

“See how you have slashed my heart!” the widow screamed as she smeared the blood across her breasts. “You say that I am the one who does not understand, but you are the one who is blind! You have lost one mother to the tomb, but God has torn two mothers from my arms. Two! Then He cut the sweet babe from my womb, a child who might have had my mother’s eyes to look on me again with love. Indeed, God has stolen from me everything that I have dearly loved. Now, surely, He can leave me one sister for warm and loving comfort?”

Juliana paled, then jumped to her feet and stepped away from the bleeding woman.

Isabelle stared at her stepdaughter with mute despair. Then she began tearing at her own face.

Eleanor rushed forward and grabbed her hands as the woman tried to claw her eyes. “Juliana,” she cried as she wrestled with Isabelle. “Bring Sister Anne. Quickly!”