Wine of Violence

Chapter Thirty-Five

“The creature lies!” Sister Ruth was shaking with anger as she marched out of the prioress’s chambers.

Thomas followed, his face without expression.

“Why do you say that, sister?” Eleanor came last, then closed her chamber door quietly behind. Like a mother would her own child, she had tucked the distraught lad up in blankets from her own bed and sent Gytha running to the hospital for help and medicine to ease him into a dreamless sleep. Although he had calmed, she knew he still suffered from the occasional hiccup of sobs behind the closed door.

“This loutish animal is not worthy to speak his name. Brother Simeon is above reproach. He would never commit such an unspeakable vileness.”

“Indeed we would hear what Brother Simeon has to say for himself.…”

“How could you even think that such a base thing would be more truthful than a man of our receiver’s high station and reputation?” Sister Ruth’s face flushed with rage. “Treating low creatures as equals is an error you have been making since your arrival. Forgive me for being so blunt, my lady, but you do show ignorance about much.”

Eleanor curled her hands into fists and ground them against her body. This was not the time to lose her temper with the woman. “Then teach me,” she said.

Sister Ruth hesitated only a moment before continuing, her now mottled face stiff with hatred for Eleanor. “First, you are ignorant of what occurred before your arrival. Even now, you know little of us all. Prioress Felicia had been long with us and knew she could trust our good receiver to provide her with suitable guidance. It may not be proper for me to speak ill of Prior Theobald, but he is not a man to take charge, as he should. If it had not been for Brother Simeon, we might well have suffered many deprivations over the years. He is an excellent steward. We thought for sure he would become a prior elsewhere, if not here.” She waved her hand at Eleanor. “This is the man you now treat with such little respect.”

“So I have heard, but Brother Rupert…?”

“Brother Rupert was a kind man, loved by us all, but he was weak in his dealings with Prioress Felicia. Where he should have given her firm direction, she sometimes guided him, but Brother Simeon wisely left the two of them to do what they would within the confines here. As he often told me, work within the priory was woman’s work and good enough in its place, but stewardship of the lands properly belonged in the hands of a man.”

Eleanor suddenly raised her head. “Often, you say, sister?”

Sister Ruth paled. “As porteress, I had occasion, proper occasion, to talk with Brother Simeon.”

“And you agreed with his methods of running the priory lands without consulting the prioress?”

“Indeed. As Brother Simeon said, that is as it should be. It is unnatural for Adam to be ruled by Eve. I would not be so unwomanly as to disagree, my lady.”

As I have disagreed and will always disagree, Eleanor thought, biting her lip. “And such would have been your approach to running Tyndal when you became prioress after the death of your former superior, had I not usurped the position.”

“My lady, I would not…” Ruth stuttered, then dropped her eyes.

“You expected to become prioress, did you not, sister? When the priory voted, you were chosen and would have ascended to the position if the King and Abbess had not wished otherwise. There is no shame or wrong in acknowledging a fact.”

“Yes, my lady, but I hold no malice.…”

“Nor did I think you did,” Eleanor said, knowing otherwise but smiling disarmingly. “So tell me one thing, good sister?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“The day Brother Rupert’s body was found in the cloister, you left your post at the door to the passageway into the nuns’ quarters, as indeed you should have, for Mass and Chapter.”

The nun nodded confirmation with a wary hesitation.

“When you left the door, did you leave it unlocked?”

Sister Ruth turned pale. “I did not!”

Eleanor raised her eyebrows in doubt.

“She tells the truth, my lady.”

Eleanor, Ruth, and Thomas all turned to look at the person standing with Gytha at the top of the stone stairs.

“It was I.”

“At whose instruction, Sister Christina?” Eleanor asked softly.

“Brother Simeon’s.”

Sister Ruth fainted.

***

Anne, whose arrival had been delayed by a crisis at the hospital, had just joined Thomas and Eleanor at the crumb-strewn table in the prioress’s chambers. With a serene manner, Christina had calmed youth and nun, then led Eadmund and Ruth off to the hospital with Gytha’s help, leaving the other three alone.

“How did Brother Simeon know that Sister Christina would be the one to check and then lock the passageway door?” Anne asked the prioress.

“Sister Ruth told him. As we have all noticed, Sister Christina becomes so lost in prayer that she often fails to notice when the other nuns rise and leave for Chapter. She is always the last to leave. When Sister Ruth was elected prioress, she asked our infirmarian to check the passageway door after Mass, in case someone waited without, and then lock the door again so that Brother Rupert and Sister Ruth could come immediately to Chapter after services. Brother Simeon knew that Sister Christina would ask no questions if he told her to leave the door open and that she might well forget he had even done so. Her concerns are not of this world.” Eleanor looked down at the rushes under her feet. She did not know if she were more saddened that Christina’s trusting nature had been abused or more grieved that Sister Ruth’s bitter resentment had caused her to, well, perhaps not lie as much as fail to tell the truth when needed.

“Then you think Brother Simeon killed Brother Rupert and brought the body into the cloister while we were all at Chapter?” Anne asked.

Eleanor nodded.

“I did find Brother Rupert’s cross outside the nave near the passageway door to the nuns’ quarters,” Thomas said.

“Why was the poor man killed in the first place? Surely our receiver could have confessed his sins? The Church allows penance even for sodomy. Murder was not necessary here.” Tears slowly filled Anne’s eyes.

“Worldly ambition can be a powerful thing, sister. Confession and contrition might save the soul, but men of power in the Church do not view indiscreet sodomy in the lower orders with indifference. Those found guilty of it are removed from any position of authority, if not expelled from the Order and left to beg on the byways with lepers,” Eleanor said. “Hard penance for a man used to the sweet honey taste of power.”

Thomas chewed on a finger. “Simeon also had reason to fear for his very life, unless his family was influential enough and cared to intervene. If Brother Rupert revealed what he was doing with Eadmund, our receiver might have been burned at the stake as an example to all that sinned in like fashion. Imagining such foretaste of hellfire is enough to unman most of us.”

Anne studied the monk in silence for a very long moment. “You speak with authority, brother. I accept what you both say, although I do not understand the need for worldly ambition in a community dedicated to a higher glory.” Then her voice turned angry. “But Brother Simeon had bought silence from the boy and his father. How could our good priest have known, and how would our receiver have found out that he did?”

“I can only guess.” Thomas shook his head. “Perhaps Brother Rupert began to suspect about Simeon from something he had heard or seen. Perhaps he had even seen the two together in questionable circumstances. Since we now know from Gytha that Brother Rupert had gone to Eadmund’s father, he may have wanted to confirm his suspicions with Eadnoth, and Eadnoth might have later told our receiver of Brother Rupert’s visit. For cert, Brother Simeon would have feared that Brother Rupert would pass the news on to the mother house in France.” Thomas’ voice caught as he rubbed his tired eyes. “Paid or not, from the distraught behavior of Eadmund’s father before he, too, was killed, I’d say he could no longer endure what was being done to his son. Eadmund did say he had lost his wits. Perhaps the father even meant to kill Simeon himself. That would explain the knife when you saw him at the cave, my lady.”

“Still, Eadmund swears neither he nor his father said a word,” Eleanor said. “Although the lad may not have known all his father did or said.”

Sister Anne looked pensive for a moment. “There was one thing. At the time I thought it was of no moment, but now I wonder.…”

“What?” asked Eleanor.

“As Prioress Felicia was dying, she fell into a deep sleep. I thought she would never awaken from it, but she suddenly became quite agitated. She thrashed around in her bed, moaning and reaching out as if she were trying to grab something. To calm her, I took her hand and spoke gently, thinking to soothe her into a quiet passing. Then her eyes opened wide and she grabbed my hand with an uncommonly strong grip and begged me to tell Brother Rupert something. As I remember, she said she had accused wrongly and then she used the phrase: ‘it was not the one we feared, but rather the other.’ Before I could ask our priest to come to her, she died.”

“And did you tell him?”

“Yes, and I saw some light of understanding in his eyes, but he said nothing further to me.”

Eleanor bent her head. I am deeply puzzled by this. What is the connection between her words and Brother Rupert’s subsequent visit to Eadnoth? If no one told them about this heinous crime, how could they have suspected it? And her words suggest they thought someone else was involved in what troubled her so much she had to speak before she died. Nay, it is more likely that they would have realized there was something amiss with the account rolls. She shook her head. Can that be? To my knowledge, only the receiver worked on them. Who else could be involved or even suspected? Eleanor looked up at Sister Anne. “What do you think, sister?”

“I have nothing to say, my lady. I do not know what troubled Prioress Felicia so.” Anne’s expression was both distressed and questioning.

“When I looked over the account rolls myself,” Eleanor continued, “I found that harvests had been almost as plentiful as usual, but the incomes from them were not quite as high as they should have been. The discrepancy seemed minor and I told Brother Simeon that I planned to visit some of the nearby lands to ask some questions. It did not occur to me that the harvests had been greater and the rents properly paid but both improperly recorded. As far as I can tell, only he was guilty of this act. He was clever enough to modify the entries just enough so they’d appear reasonable to anyone looking for the obvious theft. I find no evidence of a second person being involved.”

“In that I concur, my lady,” Thomas added. “He did not take me into his confidence on this matter and I know of no one else whom he so trusted.”

“Perhaps we will never know what specifically led Prioress Felicia and Brother Rupert to their revelation,” Eleanor said.

Sister Anne frowned in thought.

Brother Thomas seemed lost in it. “I find it hard to believe that Eadnoth did not complain to anyone in authority at Tyndal,” he said. “How long could a parent turn his head in such a situation? To someone for whom hunger is so sharp that they will sell their child’s soul for a mouthful of food, money might buy silence for awhile, but such food would soon fill that mouth with worms.”

“As Gytha explained to me, we are still the conquerors in the eyes of many. We may think we treat all with courtesy and fairness, but, when it is Saxon versus Norman, the village believes we protect our own first. There may be some validity in their view.”

“And so they distrust the rulers of the priory.”

“Yes.”

“Although I do not dispute the boy’s story, my lady,” Thomas continued, “I find one thing strange. Eadnoth would have become a rich man if Simeon had given him all the money stolen from the priory. Yet he was dressed in rags, as is his son, while we must scrimp to have enough to buy food through the winter months.”

“Eadmund said his father could not use what he was given. The lad says Eadnoth went to the cliffs above the sea, and he watched while his father tossed the coin into the waves, screaming that Satan could take it all back and return his son’s soul and manhood.”

“Indeed, Eadnoth loved his son and would have lost his wits over these events,” Anne said. “Nonetheless, the sum does seem too vast for one bribe.”

“Or perhaps there were others Simeon paid to be silent,” Thomas muttered absently. “Others who have not and may never come forward out of fear and shame. The penalties for sodomy are dire ones. Had Eadmund been younger, he would have been found innocent, but he is just man enough to have lost that protection, and all Simeon’s victims might be of like age.” Thomas winced with unwelcome memories. “Our receiver might have saved his own life by showing sufficient contrition to the right bishop, but those of no influence suffer greatly: public excommunication, an edict announced in every church in the kingdom; to be forever shunned by family and friends. Willing or not, those he committed sodomy with would face hell both in this life and in the hereafter.”

Eleanor glanced at Thomas as he rested his chin on his fist, eyes closed. There was something odd in his tone, she thought. “Some probably went to worldly extravagance. Simeon is fond of fine plate and good wine. I have seen the gold goblets in the prior’s lodgings and the fine wines served, yet I use good pewter for my guests.”

Thomas opened his eyes and smiled at her, a look that gave more joy to her heart than it should.

“It seems the most influential visitors were entertained in the prior’s quarters by Brother Simeon,” Eleanor continued. “Prioress Felicia supped only with the wives and daughters, for whom fine red gold was not needed. But something else disturbs me. Brother Simeon is right-handed, yet you believe the murderer was left-handed, sister.”

“I could be wrong, my lady.”

“Or perhaps Eadmund’s father killed Brother Rupert?” Eleanor suggested. “He was left-handed and wild with grief at what he had allowed his son to suffer. Maybe he saw the good monk as the servant of Satan.”

“Then who killed Eadnoth?” Anne asked. “And do not suggest Brother John! He is as sinful a mortal as any man, but one whom God has forgiven. No, it must have been the same man.” She glanced down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“Or not,” Eleanor replied, watching the nun’s hands nervously clutch at each other. Then she looked at Thomas. “You are deep in contemplation, brother.”

Thomas blinked as if suddenly awakened and looked up. “My lady, forgive me, but while I have been listening to all you both have said, I was thinking further on Brother Simeon and Brother Rupert.”

“And?”

He turned to Anne. “Besides telling Brother Rupert about Prioress Felicia’s dying words, did you tell anyone else?”

“Brother John.”

“Did anyone know that you had told him?”

“Sister Ruth was with me…”

Thomas looked over at Eleanor, his face gray with fear. “My lady, if you would take my advice, I would urge that you call the crowner and his men quickly. If you do not, I fear Brother John will not be alive when you go for your announced visit with him tomorrow.”