Wine of Violence

Chapter Eight

Eleanor pressed her hand to her heart, then bit her lip. She was not surprised at the brief exchange between Thomas and Simeon. She should have expected that the young priest would seek approval from the two older men before obeying her. Still the gesture had stung her with a disproportionate pain. Thomas must be new to the Order, she told herself. Like both Simeon and Theobald he would soon learn that it was she who was in charge at Tyndal. Once he did, he would look to her for direction, not them.

Then she winced. Oh, don’t be such a fool, Eleanor, she said to herself, shaking her head in disgust. It’s not your position as head of the priory that you want him to recognize. You want him to see you as a woman. A worldly creature you still are, whatever your vows. Your muscles were like water walking so near him down the stone stairs from the prior’s chambers, and you tremble with the sickness of lust. If God meant to purge your soul of any pride in becoming prioress to the religious at Tyndal, He has succeeded well.

She had always thought obedience would be the vow with which she’d struggle most. She was quite amply endowed with a high spirit. For cert, the vow of poverty had never been a problem for her. She had grown up in comfortable simplicity at Amesbury and such was her definition of poverty. Being used to that life, she even preferred it.

But lust? Virgin she might be, but innocent she was not. Not after living with two older brothers and a castle full of young men in the year she’d spent with her father before she had taken her final vows. She had played at courtly love and quite enjoyed the feints and parries of it all, but it was only a game to her and she had never lost sight of or the desire for her vocation. This was surely the first test of her vows. And, she thought with grim determination, I shall win the contest.

As they stepped into the dappled light of the monks’ cloister walk, Eleanor glanced at Sister Ruth walking next to her in silence. The nun’s eyes were downcast, and her mouth was pursed as if she had just tasted something bitter. Had the older woman recognized what her young prioress was feeling? Perhaps God was kind and she had noticed nothing. Certainly Eleanor did not need any further marks against her in her new community. Or perhaps the porteress had never experienced lust and would not recognize the symptoms.

For just an instant, Eleanor felt a tinge of envy.

***

The trio passed in silence through the covered cloister walk, keeping a modest distance from the few monks strolling there, and on toward the passage leading into the outer court.

She heard a muffled laugh and glanced quickly over her shoulder. The young monk was smiling in some private amusement. Seeing her turn to him, he looked down quickly. Had he noted the effect he had on her? Was that the source of his mirth? She scowled, hoping he noted her severity just as well. Then her own eyes turned traitor and quickly feasted on all of him from head to foot before she was able to drag her gaze back to a more seemly concentration on the stone walk at her feet.

He did look more suited to charger and armor than cowl and tonsure. Still, tonsured and cowled he was, whatever the true reason for his recent calling. She certainly did not believe the glib tale he had told her. He had shown a courtly manner and physical comfort with his body rarely found in younger monks. Although he towered over both Sister Ruth and Eleanor, he seemed in control of his size and strength and kept an easy, slow pace behind her as they walked into the dark, narrow passage under the monks’ dormitory and up to the heavy wooden door.

“This is the path you will take when you come to serve us. And you will use it to return when you are done.” Eleanor inserted a large key, unlocked the door, then turned and handed the key to Thomas. “This is now yours as priest to my nuns and the sick. Besides you, Prior Theobald has such a key and Brother Andrew also because he is porter. Of the nuns, only Sister Ruth as porteress, Sister Christina and Sister Anne, who are both in charge of the hospital, and I may have such keys. Please keep it safe and lend it to no one. These locked doors keep us protected from the world.” Eleanor heard a sharp intake of breath from the nun beside her and winced. At least the doors had done so until the death of Brother Rupert, she thought.

“I will take you to the hospital before the crowner comes and introduce you to Sister Christina, the infirmarian. Sister Anne, her assistant, you will meet shortly. Until I can review the assignments of all the brothers at Tyndal, your duties will include service to the sick as well as priest for the nuns.”

As they walked through the gate and approached the church, Eleanor pointed out the sacristy door that led to the priests’ changing room and the altar. When they approached the entrance to the nuns’ cloister, Brother Thomas bowed to Sister Ruth, who stepped back so he could take her place by the prioress’ side.

“Since you have already examined the body, my lady, what specifically do you wish me to look for?”

Eleanor turned so quickly he almost trod on her.

“I did not mean…”

Eleanor was pleased that he looked abashed as he stumbled backward. At least there was little aggression to fear in the man. One prone to violence would have looked angry to be placed so suddenly at disadvantage.

She smiled with pleasure at her impromptu trick and at his flustered reaction, then nodded acceptance of the apology.

The boyish grin he gave in return was not only ingenuous but also calculated, Eleanor decided. The look did not extend to his expressionless eyes. Nonetheless, unwanted warmth rushed once again to her face. She quickly turned away from him and walked in determined silence to the nuns’ gate, unlocked it with her own key, and led the two others into the cloister garth. As they reached the fountain where Sister Anne guarded the body, Eleanor finally stopped and turned to Thomas.

“Your opinion and observations, brother, would be both welcome and useful. Indeed Sister Anne and I did examine the body quite thoroughly. However, if the crowner is like most, he would more likely listen to the details and take them more seriously from you than from us. The world outside our small Order is unaccustomed to open female command and for me to assert this unusual authority as head of Tyndal might so unsettle him that he could be distracted from a timely pursuit of justice. I understand he has never had occasion to visit here before. I trust we will never have to invite him to our priory again. Therefore, in the interest of a clear-eyed, efficient hunt for the person who did this horrible thing to our brother, I think the issue of who runs Tyndal may remain a moot one.”

“If I may be so blunt, my lady, you show rare judgement for…”

“A woman?”

“For any child born of sin.”

Clever man with words you are, Eleanor thought and could not help smiling at him. She might fear Thomas and the unwelcome feelings and confusion he caused her, but she did like his quick wit.