Valley of Dry Bones

Chapter Thirty-six

Eleanor stood at the window of her chambers and watched the dust clouds, raised by the departing horsemen, settle. Never had she been so grateful to see men leave as she was these. They had brought violence to her priory and carried the plague of discord as well, worldly contagions that were difficult to cure once the infection was established.

His soul bound for Hell, Kenard’s corpse had been tossed into a shallow pit in unconsecrated earth next to Brother Simeon’s grave. No one would ever know how he had managed to lure Otes away from priory grounds or why he had chosen to kill him below the hermitage. Doubting that the servant had known about Brother Thomas, the prioress suspected the man had simply picked the spot because it was remote and blood would not be shed on God’s land. Even though Kenard had committed self-murder within Tyndal’s walls, an act some would call sacrilege, Eleanor did wonder if he had done so to be closer to God and thus to let Him know his soul longed to be good in spite of his violent acts.

“My lady?”

Willing enough to set heavy thoughts aside, the prioress immediately turned to acknowledge Gytha standing at the door.

“As you requested, Prior Andrew has ended his solitary penance and awaits your command. There is ale, cheese, and bread on the table. Shall I remain outside the door in case you need me?”

Eleanor nodded and walked into her public room.

A hollow-cheeked Prior Andrew entered. When he met her eyes, he fell awkwardly to his knees.

Gytha hurried out and closed the door behind her, leaving but a modest inch open.

Rarely did the prioress require complete privacy in her conversations with either nun or monk. This time she did. The opening in the door satisfied the letter of propriety’s law. Although she trusted her maid’s discretion and silence, the content of this discussion was one with which Eleanor did not want to burden anyone else. Her decision with respect to her prior, as well as all the errors he had committed, ought to remain between the two of them alone.

“Rise, Prior Andrew,” she said and gestured for him to be seated near the food and drink.

“I am not worthy of this kindness,” he whispered, looking at the bounty on the table.

“The queen’s emissaries have left,” she responded. “Perhaps you have not learned this. Baron Otes was killed by Lady Avelina’s servant, a man who had a long-standing grudge against the baron. Later, he committed self-murder. Unfortunately, the lady herself, although innocent of blame, died as a result of the shock this news dealt her. Her son, Simon, has decided to take vows.” More detail than this, she concluded, he had no need to know.

“And through all I was unable to give you the support and service that the Order and my vows demand. I am a foolish and a wicked man.”

“Since you were locked away in a windowless room, as a penance you agreed to serve, there could be no doubt you were innocent of the second death, and, for that reason, most likely of the first as well. Yet, if the Lady Avelina had not been so willing to tell me the reason for the baron’s murder, you might have remained a suspect.”

“You were wise to anticipate how evil works and shut me safely away, my lady. Indeed, I did use the time to pray over my grievous sins, but I am most guilty of adding to the priory’s troubles with my own actions. I deserve no mercy and beg none.”

“Your only error was in not telling me the entire story of your brother and the argument with the baron. Your reasons for that failure were not founded in evil, and I believe you wanted to protect me from worldly horrors as honorable men are wont to do with women.” She walked over to the table and served him the ale with her own hands. “Nonetheless, I fear that Satan often thwarts the efforts of good men.” Turning to the window, she stared out at the bright sunlight bathing the priory grounds. “And so we frail women have learned to keep, as it were, cloaks of chain mail close to hand with which to arm ourselves on such occasions.”

Bowing his head, he expressed sorrow that this had been necessary, then asked, “When I surrender my position as prior, my lady, how may I best serve you?”

“Have you given thought to the ways in which you might do so?” She kept her back to him and her voice even.

He did not reply for a long time.

She kept her counsel and said nothing.

“I was a good porter, my lady.”

Noting the rasp in his voice, Eleanor wondered if he was weeping, but she did not turn around, preferring to allow him a man’s pride. “That you were,” she replied.

“Or, if Brother Thomas does not return from his hermitage, I might wait upon the sick in the hospital.”

“Aye.”

“If you find I am too unworthy for such work, I will gladly spend my days preparing the dead for burial, cleaning the stables, or any other…”

“I praise you for the humility you have expressed in this matter and will not keep you in suspense any longer. I have decided how you may best serve God in this priory.”

She heard the bench scrape on the floor and knew he had fallen again to his knees. Even though she feared for his bad leg, she waited, resisting a woman’s concern.

When she did choose to look at him, she noted he did not even try to hide the river of tears flowing from his reddened eyes into the rushes on the floor. “Stand and face me,” she ordered, her voice breaking in spite of her resolve.

He struggled to his feet but kept his eyes lowered.

“You must retain the position of prior at Tyndal,” she said. “Nay, do not protest for my decision is final.”

“I am known to be a man who fought for de Montfort!”

“And many others have been long aware of that connection. Did you not confess it to me when I first arrived here?”

He nodded and looked longingly at the ale.

“Drink, for I have heard the hoarseness in your voice,” she said, knowing full well that his need for the ale had little to do with a dry throat. Her heart ached when she saw how his hands shook.

“I am unworthy of this clemency.”

“Let me be frank, Prior. Tyndal is a minor religious house, and we struggle to pay for our simple needs. Since we are not wealthy, we wield no influence in the world. I doubt King Edward will care that our prior served the Earl of Leicester in the distant past, and, in fact, you were pardoned by his uncle. Now you serve God, as does our new king, and surely he is wise enough to see that he has far greater threats to contend with than a man who has long foresworn the world.”

“I cannot forget that Baron Otes threatened you because of my past.”

“The baron tried to bribe me. Or else he only meant to offer Tyndal the lands so their worth might grow greater in the eyes of another and the latter inspired to increase his payment for them. In any case, he misjudged my greed. Where Baron Otes saw profit, I saw thirty pieces of silver.” For the first time, she chanced a softer tone. “Nor would that Judas price buy this priory such a talented administrator as you, one who serves in God’s name and without worldly recompense.”

Then Andrew smiled, albeit weakly.

She poured herself a cup of ale and smelled the yeasty scent of the freshly baked bread on the table. Sadly, she had no appetite. “Whether or not the cause is righteous, war is a brutal thing, and many grow wicked in the heat of it even as they shout God’s name. In our priory, it matters not that my kin fought for King Henry while you, and your brother, supported a man now called either saint or traitor. We each have begged, and received, clemency of the other as our beliefs demand.”

“When I told my tale several years ago, you were merciful and kind. I know of no offense your family ever committed against any of my kin, but I would bear no ill feeling if such have been the case. I am honored to serve you, my lady, for you truly represent the Queen of Heaven in this priory with a mother’s wisdom and compassion.”

“Then go forth, Prior,” she said with a smile, “and see to our sheep as you have always so ably done.”

He bowed. “Gladly. Both the four-footed ones, blessed with wool, and the less well-covered of God’s creatures that stand on only two feet.”

Eleanor laughed and dismissed him.

Despite his lame leg, he was gone in an instant.

***

Eleanor stared at the door and clung to solitude for just a moment longer, although Gytha waited outside.

She was glad Andrew had been kept safe from suspicion and that he would remain to help administer priory business with his much needed skills. It was thanks to his stewardship that the debts of the past had been paid and Tyndal, in fact, showed promise of more prosperity than she had suggested to him. After all she had just seen over the last few days, however, she did wonder if there was too high a cost paid for that little prosperity.

Although she wanted Tyndal to have sufficient income to fulfill all of God’s commandments regarding the care of the sick, poor, and helpless, she knew men grew selfish if there was too much of it. “We had best remain lean,” she thought, “and ever grateful for whatever we receive of His bounty.”

Eleanor walked back to the window and looked down once again at the land she ruled on God’s behalf. It was beautiful in her eyes, even when snow and ice turned the earth glacial white. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of the earth and knew how precious Tyndal had become to her. “If God is merciful,” she said, “He will give me the wisdom to recognize when we have sufficiency and keep me from wanting more.”

Suddenly, she felt something press firmly against her leg, and, looking down, saw her great orange cat, Arthur. She picked him up and buried her face in his thick pelt.

He purred.

“I have not seen you here for far too long, my prince,” she murmured. “Did Father Eliduc frighten you away?”

Crawling higher on her shoulder, he burrowed his head into her wimple.

“I may hope that neither of us shall ever see the man again.” The words caused her to shiver for she had little faith in the truth of them. “If he should reappear, you must show me all your hiding places so I might join you until he departs.”

He began to scrub the cloth around her neck.

“Indeed, he is too clever for me. Although he was not complicit in murder, he had a purpose here, was successful in attaining what he wanted, and was most satisfied by the time he left. Nor do I believe that I shall be spared a future meeting. I can only pray that God gives me the insight and calm to outwit him if our intentions conflict.” She shook her head and wished, as she had oft before, that her aunt, Sister Beatrice, was closer than Amesbury Priory and could help her handle these matters with more understanding.

The chamber door groaned on its leather hinges.

Eleanor turned around.

Gytha peeked through the opening. “My lady, forgive me for disturbing you. A monk urgently implores an audience.”

Perplexed over who this might be and what new trouble was facing her, the prioress eased the cat back down to the floor and gave her consent.

The young maid opened the door wide and stood aside.

A tall, freshly-shaven and tonsured monk entered. He knelt at the prioress’ feet.

Her hand flew to her pounding heart as she gazed at him and wondered at the sun dancing in his red-gold hair.

“My lady, I beg permission to return to my former duties at Tyndal Priory,” he murmured, his deep voice soft with longing.

“That plea is granted, Brother Thomas,” she replied, not caring that her tone might well convey the caress she dared not give him. “You have been deeply missed by all here.”

In truth, even the cat seemed pleased. Walking over to the monk, Arthur tentatively sniffed at the former hermit and began to lick Thomas’ hands.