Valley of Dry Bones

Chapter Ten

Brother Beorn stood in awe.

The orange sun slipped toward the horizon, conceding all power to the night. Streaks of clouds, once vermillion tinged with gold, darkened. Birdsong grew hushed. Only the whine of biting things remained undiminished.

This daily surrender of God’s light to the darkness of Satan’s hours never ceased to amaze Brother Beorn. Had he been a man of less ardent faith, he might have questioned why this happened. Instead he accepted years ago that the message lay more in the recovery of light at dawn than any relinquishment of it at night. He often stopped to watch the event with both wonderment and reverence, and as he did each time, bowed his head with a briefly uttered prayer.

Had he pondered more on God’s creations, he might have found many other contradictions to consider. Deciding the Church and its leaders were surely wiser than he, the lay brother had chosen to reject such diversions. For this reason, he was surprised to realize that, on the matter of the queen’s party, he remained of two minds.

On one hand, he was delighted that King Edward’s wife wished to show humble gratitude to God for the safe return from Outremer. A pilgrimage was unquestionably fitting, but he did not approve of the new guest quarters, however austere, because they were solely for the comfort of those serving secular lords.

Surely the priory could have found better use for what it had cost to build them. He could think of several other ways to honor the greater glory of God with extra coin, from thicker blankets for the dying to a bigger cross on the hospital chapel altar.

This quandary troubled him. He knew he must respect and accept any decision made by Prioress Eleanor, and he did so willingly most of the time. In this matter, he had little tolerance for secular foibles. No matter how many times he bid it be silent, his insubordinate spirit argued that Tyndal Priory would always be better served by a fine chalice to brighten worship than soft beds for the ease of wealthy bones, even queenly ones.

As he rounded the stables, he stopped to enjoy the snickering of contented horses. He was a countryman and four-legged creatures were dear to him. Although he knew they did not have souls, he had often to confess his lingering suspicion that many of them were more prefect creations than those allegedly made in His image. Never had he heard a cow blaspheme nor a sheep proclaim heresy. Goats, on the other hand, reeked of lust. He had doubts about goats.

He breathed in deeply, enjoying the smells of the earth, warmed by the sun. Dusk, so long delayed in this summer season, had fallen at last. He looked forward to prayers and the deep sleep of one who had labored hard for God and was blest with honest dreams.

As he walked on, he decided the day had been particularly joyful. The infirmarian, Sister Christina, had prayed with a young woman who came to the hospital with blinding headaches. Soon after, the sufferer had gone home to her husband and babes, cured by the grace of God. Many might praise the potions of Sister Anne while Brother Beorn believed the infirmarian was a saint. Herbs would do no good were it not for the blessings of Sister Christina.

Just then, angry shouts destroyed his tranquil thoughts.

Beorn stopped, staring into the darkness, horrified that such rage had invaded priory grounds.

Two men stood in the gloom near the guest quarters, their shadowy arms gesturing wildly as they argued.

The lay brother quickly covered his ears and hurried away.

He dared not interfere and had no wish to listen to their quarrel. If he tried to intercede, he might have been caught in a fight and tainted with the sin of violence. How dare they insult God’s peace with their worldly argument and infect him with anger!

After gaining some distance from the scene, he was able to slow his pace and sooth his outrage by concluding that God would find a way to punish them. He would have dismissed this exchange of foul words if the matter had only been between two secular guests.

What troubled and frightened him was that one of the voices belonged to Prior Andrew.