Wine of Violence

Chapter Fifteen

“Indeed he’s lucky he is not dead.”

Eleanor realized she had been holding her breath as Sister Anne examined the bloodied but breathing monk.

“Fa!” Thomas spat out the liquid Sister Anne had just given him.

“And he may be yet, if he does that to me again,” Anne said, wiping away the fluid he had just spewed all over the front of her habit.

Thomas groaned.

“Can you understand me?” Sister Anne asked.

“My head hurts.” His voice was a whisper.

“It should. Someone laid a good blow on the back of it. Cut your scalp, but you’ll live. You have a suitably thick Norman skull.”

Thomas turned over and vomited, a little liquid but mostly air.

“Didn’t eat much last night, did we?”

“I don’t suppose you know who did this to you, brother?” Eleanor asked.

Thomas sat up slowly with Sister Anne’s help and shut his eyes. “If I ever find out, the whoreson won’t live long.”

“Not a sentiment I’d expect to hear from a priest. You’ll want to remember that for your next confession.” Eleanor kept her voice stern as she struggled not to laugh in nervous relief at his spirit.

“At least I should get exemption from the next blood-letting.”

“You’re feeling better.” Sister Anne smiled, then looked up at the tall, green-eyed monk standing beside her. “Would you give me that cup? I think I can try again with the medicine.”

“You said you found him?” Eleanor watched the man pass the cup with care to Sister Anne so that their hands did not touch.

The monk nodded and lowered his green eyes with courtesy.

“I do not know your name.”

“Brother John, my lady. I am in charge of both the male novices and monk’s choir at Tyndal. ”

“And what did you see, Brother John?”

“Not much, I fear. I came out this morning after chapter to pick lavender to strew on the floor of the novices’ quarters. They are suffering from a surfeit of fleas, you see. We grow only enough of the plant for medicinal use so I look for the wild herb. It serves the purpose just as well.”

Eleanor nodded with some impatience.

“And as I came to this spot, I saw the brother lying just there.” He pointed. “After what happened to Brother Rupert, I fear I didn’t check for signs of life. I thought he was dead with those eyes so staring at me. I ran to the nuns’ gate and asked Sister Ruth to summon you, then waited in the outer court until you came so I could lead you here.”

“I see,” she replied. “But first tell me, brother, how you found your way out of the monks’ cloister without a key to the passageway?”

John blinked. “The door was unlocked, my lady.” He hesitated. “Perhaps Brother Thomas forgot to lock it behind him when he left the cloister.”

Eleanor looked back at Thomas, who was grimacing in the direction of the other monk. He must hurt so, she thought. “Do you find the passage door unlocked so often that you would check first before asking permission to leave?”

“Not at all! After Prime, as I led the novices back for lessons, I saw the door open and sent the boys on their way to consider further some questions I had already set them. I wanted to take the opportunity to get my lavender while I could. You see, when Brother Rupert was alive, he allowed me to accompany him when he left to attend to the nuns if I needed to go into the woods for herbs. Both Brother Simeon and Brother Andrew are quite busy, and I had yet to speak with Brother Thomas about a similar arrangement. I’m afraid I saw my chance this morning and took it without permission.”

“And by so doing, found our injured brother. The good of your impulse outweighs your failure to seek proper permission," Eleanor said. “You would say, however, that leaving the door unlocked was a rare occurrence?”

“Indeed, my lady. Brother Rupert was very careful and strict about such matters. He would never lend the key out and only let another go with him if the need was reasonable.”

Was the same true of the door to the nuns’ quarters, Eleanor wondered. She would have to ask Sister Ruth. In the meantime, she had to question Thomas no matter how much pain he was in. He had no reason to be so far outside priory walls, nor should he have been so foolish as to leave the door unlocked with a murderer about.

“And why were you out of the priory, Brother Thomas?”

“A call of nature, my lady. Sometime after Matins.”

“The monks do have a proper latrine for that. You needn’t have come all the way out here…”

“Forgive me, my lady, but I am still unaccustomed to my quarters and lost my way. I did not wish to waken anyone to ask directions.”

Eleanor felt her face flush with hurt anger. Did he really think she was that stupid? His reason for being outside the priory walls in the middle of the night was so ridiculous it was an insult to her intelligence. First of all, the latrine was just off the monks’ dormitory, as it was in almost every monastery in Christendom. Second, if the call was so urgent he didn’t have time to find such an easily located privy, did he really think she’d believe he could have waited long enough to find his way outside and wander so far away from the priory? She snorted in contempt. If he did, then he was the fool, not she.

As she looked at his bloody head and pale complexion, however, cold logic fled and she softened. This was not the time to joust with him over inconsistencies. He had not been here long enough to have found a willing woman in the village on his own for less than priestly purposes, and a staff of monks so frail that they could not even say Mass, if Brother Simeon were to be believed, would be unlikely to have a list of local whores any younger than they.

She would wait until he was feeling better to search out the real reason for his nocturnal meanderings, and she would do so privately. Indeed, her aunt had told her about monks who awoke at night, suffering from dreams conjured up by Satan as she had herself endured of late, and slipped away to spill their seed in the manner of Onan. Perhaps it had been thus with Thomas, and, if so, he might well be embarrassed to say so in front of three nuns and a monk.

Sister Anne stood and looked down at the monk who was struggling to stand up. “Can you walk to the hospital, brother? I need to treat that wound further with remedies I have there.”

“Of course.”

“With help.” Sister Anne gestured at the tall monk. “Brother?”

“Aye. I’ll steady you,” John said, as he reached out his hand to Thomas.

It was with some interest that Eleanor noted Brother John used his left hand, as he had when he passed the cup to Sister Anne.