Valley of Dry Bones

Chapter Twenty-four

“Rise, Prior Andrew.” Eleanor’s voice was icy with controlled anger.

He tried, then stumbled, tears flowing down stubbled cheeks. His broken sobbing was painful to hear, as if some dull sword were ripping at his flesh.

She turned her back, refusing him the mercy of assistance and unwilling to let him see that she was as grieved as he. Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she waited until the sounds of his struggles to regain his balance had ceased. Slowly, she turned around, folded her hands, and waited in silence.

“I will accept whatever punishment you order, my lady. From this moment on, I bear no title and remain a simple monk who has deeply sinned against you.” He bowed his head with respect and because he could not bear to look her in the eye.

Eleanor gestured for Gytha to approach. “We need wine,” she murmured, then waited until the young woman had left before speaking further to Andrew. “There will be punishment, but not until God grants me the wisdom to make a just decision. In the meantime, I must know why I had to hear about your argument with Baron Oates from Brother Beorn. You swore to tell me all when we last spoke, and I can think of no reason why you did not mention this heated discussion then.”

The prior opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head and began again to weep.

Gytha brought two pewter goblets with a pottery jug. As the maid poured the wine, Eleanor shuddered. For some reason, the bright red color reminded her of blood. Nodding for the young woman to retreat to her position by the chamber door, the prioress turned her attention back to the prior, her expression suggesting she had little patience left.

“I did not kill the man, my lady! I will swear to you on all that is holy.”

“Did you not recently swear to tell me details even when you did not think them important? Surely you can understand my disinclination to readily believe you.”

“I did argue with the baron, and, since murder is a sin when committed in the heart, I am guilty of wishing his death. I most certainly was blinded by hatred. He and I met by accident. When I first saw him, I turned to flee. He called after me, claiming I was no better than my traitorous brother. That alone caused me to hesitate and turn back. When he called me coward, Satan set fire to the dry tinder of my fury and I shouted curses on him.”

“Did you strike him then? Or did you promise to meet him at a later time with intent to commit mayhem that resulted in death?”

“Neither of us laid a finger on the other, my lady, although our words were as sharp as swords.”

“I also asked if you met him later.”

“I did not. God, in His mercy, cooled my fury, and I was finally able to turn my back on the creature. As I retreated, he mocked me while I prayed for the courage of martyrs to walk away without retort.” Andrew reached for the goblet and stared down at the wine. “He was walking on this earth when I left him, and I never saw him alive again.”

“Where were you when you argued?”

“Near the guest quarters. Baron Otes was just leaving as I approached.”

“Why had you gone there?” At least the prior’s story was matching the details given by Brother Beorn.

“Father Eliduc had sent a message that he wanted to see me.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “When did he summon you and who was sent? Was the request urgent? Did the messenger give the reason?”

The prior fell silent as if carefully gathering all the facts involved in the answer to each question. “One of the lay brothers, not Brother Beorn, found me. He said Father Eliduc had some problem with the accommodations and wished to speak with me about it. I would not say that his request included a plea for urgent response. Since these guests are from our queen, I did go immediately.”

“And you had not spoken with the priest when you saw Baron Otes?”

“Nay. After the argument, I prayed for calmness in the chapel and did return to the guest quarters after I thought the baron had gone. I was not so possessed with evil that I failed to heed my duty to resolve Father Eliduc’s concern.”

Had gone? Eleanor’s curiosity was sharpened by the phrase. She chose first to ask one more question before she pursued it. “Did you meet with Father Eliduc?”

“He told me the issue had been settled between the time he sent for me and my arrival.”

Eleanor gestured for him to elaborate.

“He does not like ale and thought we had refused him wine with his meal. When I talked with him, he said the failure to bring the wine had been a misunderstanding and he was satisfied the error would not be repeated.”

Although the story was consistent with what she knew of the priest, Eleanor wondered if there had been some plan to make sure the prior arrived in time to meet the man who had killed Andrew’s brother. “And where did you go after that?”

“Back to the chapel for prayer, my lady. As you can see, I had much need for repentance.”

“Were there witnesses?”

Andrew shook his head.

That lack of corroboration was most unfortunate. “At any time during your argument with the baron, did our guest say where he was going or even his purpose in so doing?”

He rubbed at his reddened eyes.

The silence was long. Eleanor remained patient.

“I think he went in the direction of the mill, although I cannot swear to it.” He squeezed his lids shut. “Aye, he must have, for I now remember looking over my shoulder once in my retreat. He was walking along that path. I confess I had weakened again and longed to cast another curse in his direction.” More tears slipped down his cheeks. “It seems my curses had already been sufficient to kill, is that not so? There was no virtue in my belated restraint.”

“Drink the wine, Prior,” Eleanor said. “It will help.”

He lifted the goblet and gulped several times.

“Did he mention why he was out? Do you remember anything other than the insults he threw at you?”

“He did threaten me.” Andrew gripped the goblet with such force that his knuckles turned white. “He claimed he could expel me from Tyndal in disgrace and that I would die along the road like the dog and traitor I was.”

“How dare he say such a thing to you!” Feeling her face grow hot with anger, Eleanor was more outraged by the baron’s presumption than her prior’s previous omission of this detail. “As I told you, he did offer land to our priory and your expulsion was the price. He seemed to have forgotten that you were pardoned by the king and by God when you took vows. Now you are under His rule and mine. I would never trade my prior for land. I hope I have made myself quite clear.”

“All the more reason to repent my grievous sins against you!”

“Hush.” She poured him more wine and gestured at the goblet, an obvious suggestion that he drink. “Did he speak about this land, other than his ill-conceived assumption that he could bribe me?”

Andrew shook his head and sipped the wine.

“Again, I ask you to think carefully. Did he say anything at all that might suggest where he was going or if he was meeting anyone?”

Andrew silently thought about it, drank more wine, and thought a while longer. “God forgive me if I am wrong about this, my lady,” he said, his words a little slurred. “He was in fine spirits about something, more than I can truly credit to his meeting with me. Now that I think more on it, he did boast that he was most blessed by God. Not only had he grown quite wealthy already, he claimed he was soon to increase his worth, if not his influence at court. Then he pointed to my rough-cut robes and said that God had clearly smiled more on him than on me.” He pursed his lips and plucked at his sleeve. “Methinks that is when God took mercy on me and began to cool my rage. I am honored to serve Him and feel no shame for wearing this.”

For the first time, Eleanor smiled. “You recall nothing else?” she asked gently.

Swaying a bit, he eased the goblet down on the table and pushed it further from the edge with studied resolve. “Nothing, I fear.”

“Do you still swear, on God’s sweet name, that you did neither kill Baron Otes nor have anything to do with the deed?”

“I swear it.”

“Very well.” Eleanor gestured that the audience was done. “While I seek God’s guidance about any punishment you are due, I order you to temporarily turn over your duties as prior to whichever monk you deem most capable. Send him to me. When you explain this act, you will say you took a vow to seek solitude for prayer, spending a short time as an anchorite, if you will. Methinks you have need to take that vow and reflect on your sins. Is that not so?”

Andrew nodded.

“Then you will retreat to a small cell, which I will order readied for you, and that door shall be locked. Entrance will be permitted only to the lay brother I assign who will bring food and tend to your needs. Should you wish to speak with me, send that brother with the request for an audience. When I have decided on your penance, I shall order you brought to my chambers, again by that one lay brother alone.”

Andrew knelt and begged her blessing.

As she watched him leave, she wondered if she truly believed him. Her heart cried out that he was an honorable man and demanded her mind agree. Indeed, she hoped he was innocent. She also knew he must remain in that solitary cell until this murder was resolved.

It was always possible the killer might strike again, and, if he did, there must be no doubt of her prior’s innocence. Now she must decide how much, if anything, to tell Crowner Ralf.

Gesturing to Gytha, she asked her to send for Brother Beorn. Of all the lay brothers in the priory, he was the one she trusted most. Although he was deeply troubled by the quarrel he had witnessed between his religious superior and Baron Otes, he would never treat the prior with discourtesy. Seeing Andrew locked in that windowless room as hard penance for giving in to the sin of wrath, Beorn would honor the prior even more.

As her maid rushed in obedience from the chambers, Eleanor walked to the window and stared out at the priory walls. They shimmered in the heat as if they had been crafted, not of stone but of some flimsy cloth that now twisted in the slight breeze. Even these works, so enduring to men’s eyes and meant to house God’s servants, may prove impermanent, she thought.

Sighing, she shut her eyes and forced her mind to return to the problems at hand. If only Brother Thomas had not left Tyndal to become a hermit, then he might have become that monk chosen by Andrew to act as temporary prior. Her sinful longings aside, she had learned to value his insight, and, for reasons God would surely condone, she deeply missed his company.