Valley of Dry Bones

Chapter Fifteen

Prioress Eleanor faced the open window that looked out on her priory’s extensive grounds. The weight on her heart stifled her as much as the summer heat. Pressing a fist against her breast, she prayed for masculine calm and the strength not to weep like the frail woman she was.

She turned around.

Prior Andrew’s cheeks were wet with tears enough for them both.

“I did not know the circumstances of your brother’s death,” she said softly.

“I should have confessed it sooner.”

“Although our families fought on different sides of the rebellion, you and I have vowed our allegiance to a far greater Lord than any earthly king.” She hesitated and looked on her prior with compassion. “Upon joining the Order of Fontevraud, you swore you would follow a prioress’ direction with the obedience any good son owes his mother. That vow you have honored in word and in the spirit of the command.” She smiled with wry amusement. “That is more than most mortals accord any rule.”

“Then I have doubly betrayed your confidence, my lady. I kept this part of my past hidden from you. In so doing, I may bring dishonor to this house.” Andrew bowed his head. “I shall resign my position. A worthier man than I must serve as your prior.”

Eleanor furtively ran her fingers under her eyes to make sure tears had not betrayed her feelings. “Before I make any decision on that plea, I must first ask a question, one to which I require an answer appropriate to your vows and dedication in God’s service.” She struggled to keep her voice steady. “Did you kill Baron Otes as you vowed on the battlefield of Evesham?”

Andrew did not hesitate. “I am innocent of his murder. That oath after my brother’s death was made in the agony of grief and was fueled by the misery of my feverish body. Without hesitation I confess I hated the baron beyond all reason and even imagined the torture I wanted to inflict on him in retaliation. Since then, I have learned how empty revenge is. Every morning, upon rising, I recite God’s commandments before I say my prayers. Thus am I reminded that He abominates murder, even for righteous vengeance.”

“You show much wisdom, Prior. We all would be well-advised to follow your practice.”

“Those kind words are more than this wretched man deserves.”

Lest her trembling hands betray her distress, Eleanor tucked them into her sleeves and frowned. “As for your request to return to the life of a simple monk…” She stopped and waited for him to meet her gaze as she uttered her decision. “I cannot grant your wish. Remaining in your position, with all the burdens that brings, is not only your duty but shall be your penance.”

“My lady…”

“Nor will I allow further debate on the subject.” Her grey eyes darkened. “What happened to your brother was criminal, under God’s law as well as the rules of combat, and his name shall be included from this day forth in the daily prayers of our nuns. I, too, shall beg God’s mercy for him for as long as I remain on this earth.”

“My gratitude is beyond mortal speech.” He fell to his knees.

“You and your brother did support de Montfort, however.”

“We fought for his principles, my lady, that all men have the right to just governance. War was waged solely to win a greater voice for Englishmen, not to remove King Henry from the throne. Had we believed the Earl of Leicester wanted to replace an anointed king, we would not have joined his cause.”

“My father believed his ambition reached for the throne. Equally honorable men agreed with you and your brother. Whatever the truth of it, our new king also rode alongside the earl, with my eldest brother at Lord Edward’s side, until both felt threatened by de Montfort’s power.”

“I have never been traitor to kingship,” Andrew whispered, “and remain a true subject of our king.”

“Rise, Prior. I never doubted your loyalty, but worldly allegiances are often changeable things. Men’s reason and hearts are too flawed to follow without question. Only God’s purpose is trustworthy for He alone is perfect.” She sighed. “And Tyndal Priory belongs to God. Faithful though we may be to anointed kings, we have a higher allegiance and must be steadfast in following His direction. Unworthy though I may be, I am leader here and you are under my dominion. In the name of the Queen of Heaven, I require that you swear never again to hide anything from me which I ought to know.”

He opened his mouth to speak. No words came forth. He nodded agreement.

Fearing for his weak leg, Eleanor gave him leave to sit in her presence. “You have proven yourself a good son to me. Your brother, by his unselfish act that saved your life, was equally devoted to the demands of kinship. In both of you, I see honorable men.” She took a deep breath. “My father may have told me some tales of the baron, but I was unaware of the depths of his wickedness. You must tell me more of him. I have an obligation to the other envoys, our new queen, and our priory’s reputation. Although Baron Otes was surely the victim of someone from outside Tyndal, he was our guest.”

“I have never sought news of him since taking vows and finding my home here, my lady.”

“Surely you remember something of his habits and character from the past.”

The prior grasped his thigh and winced. “Muddied as my memory is with grief, some may doubt the truth of what I say. Others will swear they share my opinion. Like a hound, the baron was zealous in his hunt for any prey whose downfall would benefit him. Although the pursuit of worldly influence on behalf of family is expected and honorable, he lacked all restraint in his methods. With coin and threats he bought information that destroyed some and forced others to support him with acclamation far louder than he deserved.”

“Surely not all his ploys worked.”

“I point to his murder.”

“That deed does suggest at least one failure,” she replied, settling into her own chair. With one finger, she traced the deep carving on the arms and fell into troubled thought. “When he spoke with me, he did show deep concern for his soul’s fate.”

“The man I knew had little room in his heart for God.”

“Perhaps he came belatedly to a fear of hellfire.”

Andrew’s expression betrayed a fleeting doubt before he nodded.

“He wished to leave land to the priory in exchange for prayers after his death.”

“On arrival, he recognized me, as I did him. I doubt he would have given such a gift without demanding that I suffer in some way. Although fear of Hell may have finally crawled into his heart, a snail could traverse the earth’s surface before that man ever gave a gift without expecting some worldly gain.”

“You have the right of it,” Eleanor said. “Without fees, wool, and fertile land for ample harvests, Tyndal cannot provide for our religious whose duty is to pray. Even though most gifts come with honorable requests, God does not countenance doing anything ignoble to keep a priory out of debt. I told the baron I must decline any gift that came with the price he asked.”

Andrew lowered his eyes, and then looked up with evident horror. “When you refused him, did he not threaten reprisal?”

Eleanor took time to choose her words as she recalled the baron’s suggestion that King Edward might grow angry with those who succored a man who had once drawn a sword against an anointed king. “I believe he was too surprised by my decision to come up with a suitable revenge,” she said at last, hoping Andrew did not hear the lie in her voice.