Justice for the Damned (3 page)

She
turned to her aunt. "Does the priory still possess the Psalter done in Salisbury? You sometimes used it to teach us to read."

"Rarely,
child, rarely." Beatrice shook her head. "Prioress Joan agreed that I
might do so only as a reward for those most diligent in their work." For a
moment, she fell silent as if lost in a past memory, then she sipped her wine.
"It would never have left this room, but one corner is torn. Prioress Ida
sent it to the library and scriptorium where a monk more talented than any of
our own will come to do the needed repair."

"I
must take you there to see it," Eleanor said to Anne.

"An
excellent walk for us both on a warmer day," the sub-infirmarian replied
as she rose and offered a plate of cheese to the other two women.

Eleanor
shook her head in refusal and turned to Sister Beatrice. The novice mistress
was examining the contents of her mazer, but her expression suggested that the
quality of the wine was not her concern. Had the news brought to her by the man
at the gate been so troubling? The prioress settled into her chair, grateful
for the support of the firm wood. Her back ached.

"Did
you learn something distressing from the laborer?" Eleanor asked.

"I
did not expect to hear that Wulfstan, of all people, would see a ghost coming
out of the reeds by the river." Beatrice raised her hand in a gesture of
disgust. "Had it been almost anyone else, I would have assumed that the
vision was a wisp of fog that wound around a winter-killed bush or even a large
bird. We have a crow nesting in a tree near the library. He may have seen it
flying out of the fog near the river, but I am troubled indeed. Wulfstan is a
steady fellow, not given to imaginings."

"You
said that he was not the first to see such a vision?"

With
evident dismay, Beatrice shook her head. "All it takes is for one person
to see something that frightens, something inexplicable, and rumors of ghosts
multiply like mice." She put down the wine and rested her chin against her
folded hands. "Although I thought Wulfstan a more sensible man, he has
apparently been infected with the same affliction shared by others who work on
our lands. Even some of our own monks have run to us of late, claiming the
priory itself is haunted."

"When
did this begin?" Eleanor asked.

Beatrice
rubbed her hands together, reached again for her cup, and listened to the
snapping flames before answering. "The sightings started some time before
you arrived. At first, they were mere annoyances, but now they occur almost
every night or early morning. Many say that some spirit from Hell has a quarrel
with our priory. I fear that we must do something soon to dispel these ideas.
The villagers are becoming fearful and our own monastics..." She smiled.
"Ah, well! At least some of our monks have become more ardent in their
prayers out of dread of this ghost. Perhaps I should bless the shade!"

"Has
the spirit injured anyone?" Anne asked, politely ignoring the suggestion
that any Amesbury monk might be less than devout.

"Some
have suffered scrapes and bruises in their rush to run away." Beatrice
sipped her wine and set the cup down on the table.

"You
said in the cloister that the creature had taken the shape of the priory's
founder?" Eleanor winced as her cramps returned.

"Most
of the witnesses maintain that our ghost is that of Queen Elfrida, wife to King
Edgar. Others, fewer in number but vocal enough, claim it resembles a local
woman who drowned herself in the Avon and was buried in unsanctified ground.
Mistress Eda was her name."

"What
cause has either spirit to trouble this priory?" Anne asked.

"According
to legend, Sister, Amesbury was founded by Queen Elfrida in atonement for her
part in the murder of her stepson, Edward the Martyr. For over two hundred
years, our monastics have prayed that her soul might have ease in Purgatory and
ascend quickly to Heaven, but some villagers believe we have become so sinful
ourselves of late that her ghost has grown angry and returned to rebuke
us."

"Sinned?
How?" Eleanor asked. "Are we not all sinners?"

"Our
religious community has had some weak-fleshed members, although no more than
many others. As a double house, and one run by women at that, we are especially
prone to these rumors. Most in the village know us too well to accuse us of
habitually wanton behavior, but I will not hide the truth here. The inn did
attract some of our lay brothers and the occasional monk."

"Surely
Prioress Ida has dealt with this problem?" Eleanor replied.

"She
learned from Brother Jerome about a break in the wall on the monks' side of the
grounds and promptly had it repaired before she left. I have since discussed
the matter with our prior, and he believes that the repair has solved the
problem. Where the mended wall might have failed to ensure chastity, the tales
of this wandering spirit have succeeded. This, I have confirmed with a
trustworthy source in the village itself. The inn has seen no tonsure for some
time."

"Thus
the spirit of your founder should be satisfied and leave you in peace,"
Anne said.

"Not
yet, for Wulfstan claims he saw her last night." The novice mistress' tone
conveyed her vexation.

"Might
the thing be the wraith of the woman damned for self-murder?" Anne glanced
briefly at her prioress, who was leaning forward, quite attentive to the
conversation. "What quarrel had she with the priory?"

"Other
than the burial, Mistress Eda had none. Before her death, she suffered from a
growth in her womb. The disease resisted prayer and the aid of mortal medicine,
both of which we gave her. One day her husband found her missing, and her body
was soon discovered floating in the Avon."

"And
who adjudged the death self-murder?" Eleanor asked, glancing at the food
on the table.

Anne
reached over and passed her some cheese.

"The
crowner did, based on evidence given by several villagers."

"Yet
someone believes the decision was in error or else the rumor would not be rife
that Mistress Eda is the ghost." Eleanor smiled at Anne in thanks and took
a piece.

"Her
childhood friend, Mistress Jhone, is the source of that, and the widower agrees
with her. Few others concur." Beatrice watched her niece eat one bite of
cheese and then another.

"Mistress
Jhone and the bereaved husband think...?"

"...that
Mistress Eda slipped, but was so weakened by her illness that she was unable to
pull herself from the water."

"Why
did the crowner's verdict find otherwise?" Anne said, casually placing the
plate of food closer to her prioress' elbow.

"Everyone
here knew that Mistress Eda hated the river and would never have walked there
willingly. When she was young, she had taken her younger brother down to the Avon but fell asleep in the sun. The boy decided to go swimming and drowned. She never
forgave herself," Beatrice replied. "After she grew ill, all knew her
pain. When her body was found, they concluded that she had given up all hope
and turned against God in her suffering. Satan, they said, must have seen his
chance to gain her soul and lured her to the river in the guise of her
brother."

Eleanor
now tore off a small bit of bread and nibbled at it thoughtfully.

"All
these rumors and tales are nonsense." Beatrice slammed her fist down on
the table. "There is no ghost. No matter what is claimed, imagined, or
believed, Saint Augustine taught us that there is no communication between the
world of the living and that of the dead."

"Spirits
seen are more likely Satan's imps dressed up as mortals to fool us than truly
tortured souls of the dead," Eleanor finished. "Although you taught
me to seek out mortals more than imps when evil has been done."

"And
I have not changed my mind. Mortal and flawed as we are, we see what we expect
to see and in the guise we most fear. In using our frailties against us, Satan
is a most clever creature." Beatrice's anger gave way to a merrier laugh.
"Nor have I forgotten what I taught you, dearest one! I am not yet so aged
that my memory has begun to drift into that tranquil land many find before
death."

"Were
I even to suggest such a thing, my father would come roaring to your defense
all the way from Wales!"

"He
and I have always butted heads like goats, but that is how we show our love for
each other. As for our haunting, I do suspect the ghost is made less of spirit
than flesh, but, if the acts were intended as a jest, the game has turned
cruel. Those who work hard in the priory fields now fear to take the shorter
path to the village along the river and return home even wearier. Honest men
should not be made to suffer so."

"Then
you must dispel these rumors and the growing fear." Eleanor smiled at her
aunt with fond expectation.

The novice
mistress looked heavenward and gave an immense sigh. "I would, but I have
no time to devote to this pagan nonsense. With Prioress Ida gone, I must
continue with my old duties, plus hers, and a few other tasks as well. The
spring planting season is full upon us..."

Eleanor
blinked. "Might the prior take this matter in hand?"

"He
could, if he were not such a fool and inclined to believe in ghosts
himself." Beatrice folded her hands and placed them in her lap. Still
gazing at the ceiling, her features slowly formed into what one might call a
study in perplexity.

Anne
and Eleanor looked at each other in silence. The sub-infirmarian raised one
questioning eyebrow at her friend.

"If
you will allow it, Aunt, I might look into this matter for you," Eleanor
said, her voice showing an enthusiasm that had been much lacking of late.

The
novice mistress waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. "You are too
weak."

Eleanor's
face turned scarlet. "I am
not...
"

Anne
laid a hand on her friend's sleeve. "Might I make a suggestion? You could
conserve your strength but still help."

The
aunt continued to look upward as if in deep thought, then replied with a
measured hesitation. "How so, Sister?"

"Accompanying
us was Brother Thomas, a brave and clever man who has been of great service to
your family as well as Tyndal in matters of justice. Might Prioress Eleanor set
him to the task of finding the source of these apparitions?"

Eleanor
paled. "I would rather not..."

"Ah!"
Beatrice brightened. "A most original idea! My noble brother was
uncharacteristically fulsome in his praise of your monk as I recall." Her
lips twitched and her eyebrows rose. "I, too, found your Brother Thomas
quite memorable." The novice mistress' expression could only be described
as appreciative. "A man with hair the color of Satan's own fire and a body
so muscular that Sir Lancelot would be jealous? I would guess he might be bored
with no better company than our aging and placid monks on the other side of the
priory. Perchance he would welcome a bit of innocent adventure outside the
walls, searching for a jester who must have strayed from court?" She
clapped her hands with a merry vigor. "Set him to the task, child, and
report to me on his success. Or failure. I do think you could help me so much in
this matter without exhausting yourself. Meanwhile, I can see
to
the
planting of our herb garden..." Her voice trailed off as she gazed with
affectionate delight at her niece.

Eleanor
bowed her head. Although the gesture spoke of respect to her aunt, it succeeded
in hiding her troubled expression.

"It
is a task that should be started soon," the novice mistress declared,
rising with evident stiffness from the table. "Now, I fear, I must go to
our infirmarian for something to give me some ease. I am an old woman whose
joints ache more than I would wish, and I need something to help me
sleep."

"It
shall be done." Eleanor rose as well, kissed her aunt, and watched in
silence as she limped away.

Suddenly,
Anne leapt up and turned to Eleanor. "I might have a remedy for your aunt.

"Go
to her then." Eleanor gestured toward the disappearing nun.
"Quickly!"

"Sister,"
Anne called out, running after the elder nun. "We have found something at
Tyndal that has proven successful.

When
the two tall nuns were far enough from Eleanor to speak without being
overheard, Sister Anne asked, "Do you think she is strong enough to handle
this matter?"

Beatrice
nodded. "My niece has ever been one to gain strength from a challenge. Did
you not see pink return to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes? She even ate
more than has been her wont. This task may be just the medicine she needs, and
it is an easy enough one with your Brother Thomas doing the work of
investigating. If I had thought otherwise, I would not have whined so about my
trifling duties and aged joints. Now return before she suspects we are
conspiring!"

But
when Anne reentered the room and Eleanor greeted her with one eyebrow arched,
the sub-infirmarian of Tyndal knew full well that she and the novice mistress
had utterly failed to deceive.