Satan's Lullaby (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-five

Although the sea mist had finally dissipated, the earth remained wet with its tears. Multicolored leaves, once proudly announcing the rich harvest in the priory orchard, lay on the ground, dull with mold and rotting into the soil. The chill, eager to herald the coming months of bitter cold, lingered in the air. It was that time when men’s souls grow fearful, for the dark season is when Death most loves to garner souls.

Brother Thomas and Prioress Eleanor were not part of that tremulous multitude. As they approached the courtyard inside the main gate, their expressions spoke of keen anticipation.

“Have you received any news?’ he asked.

The prioress nodded. “Nute was chosen to be the messenger for Gytha’s travail. He has confirmed that Sister Anne arrived at the manor and immediately ordered Ralf out of the house. After she had examined Gytha, she sent Signy outside long enough to announce that our sub-infirmarian was pleased with the progress of the child’s birth.” Eleanor smiled. “The crowner is sweating drops the size of crossbow bolts. Nute said that Ralf had even fallen to his knees in prayer at least once.”

Thomas looked surprised. “If Ralf is doing that on a day that is neither a Sunday nor a feast day, he is truly frightened.”

“Our crowner may growl and sputter about the Church, but he tithes faithfully,” she replied with a smile. “And he may not attend Mass every Sunday, but he most certainly can recite all of the Seven Deadly Sins.”

“His wife may help him forget a few of those,” Thomas replied with a lighter heart, then grew solemn. “Sister Anne is certain there is no problem with the birthing?”

“I did not want to postpone Nute’s return to the manor with questions he could not answer, but I am confident that our beloved Gytha is doing well. Before Sister Anne sent the boy to us, she urged him to emphasize that Gytha was having as easy a time as any woman could with birth pains.” The prioress looked quickly behind her as if hoping to see the lad arrive with word that the babe had been born and all was well. “Nute vowed to come to the priory every time there was news.”

“After we wish Godspeed to our abbess’ brother, I beg leave to go to the manor and help Ralf through this time. Men may not give birth, but it would be a heartless husband who did not weep when he heard his wife scream with pain. Ralf cherishes Gytha, and he recently asked me if God minded the curses he gave Eve for burdening good women with such agony just because their foremother couldn’t resist a pretty apple.” Thomas grinned. “I told him God might condemn him if he didn’t.”

Looking at him with fondness, Eleanor said, “You would have been a good husband had you chosen another calling.” Then she flushed with embarrassment and quickly added, “Of course you must give comfort to our dear friend. I would suggest you leave now, but we both must see Father Etienne off.” She grimaced at the very thought of the man. “I need your strength to prevent me from saying something I should not.”

“My lady, it is your strength I shall need not to forget my vows and strike him.”

At that, they both laughed.

“Fear not, my lady,” he said. “I have never regretted my oaths, although they are not always easy to obey.” Those were words he would not have meant years ago when he was forced to take the vows, but they had become true since—with one unsettling exception.

Although he no longer mourned the loss of the man he had once deeply loved, he now found he often thought of Durant, a wine merchant he had met in Walsingham. Surely the cause was Gytha’s pregnancy, he decided, for Durant had spoken of the longing he and his wife had for a child. When Thomas and the wine merchant last parted, the monk had given him a blessing and added his prayers that the union between husband and wife would be fruitful. A babe would bring much joy to Durant, he thought, and wondered again if God had heard his plea.

“Not once have I doubted your devotion,” the prioress replied, then paused. “Before we see Father Etienne, you should tell me the details of your recent meeting with the man from Picardy. Was he interested in our honored guest?”

It was Thomas’ turn to blush as he prayed Prioress Eleanor would never discover his longing for a man’s love. To hide his face, he bowed his head and told her the tale of Philippe as well as the reason for letting the man go. “I beg forgiveness for doing this without consulting you,” he said.

She stopped and looked up at him, her gray eyes warm. “We often think as one in serving God, Brother. Had you sought advice, I would have agreed that justice was best honored by letting the man expiate his sins as he wished. Perhaps God did enlighten him on how murder blights the mortal soul. Despite the Commandments, many try to distinguish between righteous and sinful killing, an often confusing difference.” She sighed. “Our world has become so violent. Under King Henry, we had longer periods of peace, but his son has changed that.”

“Your clemency is gracious, my lady.” But he knew that her comments on the world reflected her fears for her brother’s safety in Wales. “I pray daily for Sir Hugh,” he added softly.

“Prayers for which he and I are most grateful.” Although she never knew exactly why her eldest brother had initially disliked Brother Thomas, the monk had saved Sir Hugh’s life. Since then, there had been no discord between the men. “After the service you have rendered all of us in my father’s family, you have become my third brother in the world as well as my spiritual kin.”

He bowed his head with humility, and the two fell silent, lost in their particular thoughts as they hurried on to the meeting with the soon-to-be Bishop Etienne Davoir.

***

Clerks tossed their meager bundles of possessions to others and clambered into the wagons that had brought them to Tyndal Priory. Their shouts and laughter at departure contrasted with their sedate hush on arrival.

No one rebuked them for the din, or suggested it was unseemly. Even Father Etienne turned his back on it as if accepting their eagerness to return to more peaceful lodgings where the worst violence might be an impassioned quarrel over a tiny theological detail.

Outside the gates, the party of mounted guards had gathered, ready to escort the Frenchmen back to the coast and their waiting ship. Even their horses seemed impatient to leave, snorting and shaking their heads.

As a reminder of Jean’s tragic death, a riderless horse was tied to the back of one wagon which had been filled with all the records of this visitation, a carved prie-dieu and a bejeweled cross. No one approached the horse. Three passing clerks suddenly changed direction when they realized they would be passing too near.

Bereft of attending clerks, Davoir stood with Prior Andrew. The prior was assuring him that the lay brothers of Tyndal would take care in preparing Jean’s corpse so it could be sent home without an embarrassing incident.

Thomas noticed Conan dismount and walk through the gate. He hoped the guard captain would rotate the soldiers assigned to watch over Renaud. The clerk’s ranting, day and night, would be torture. As the monk leaned to one side, he could see Renaud bound and tied to his horse. Although the general noise of departure muted the sound, Thomas could see the youth opening and shutting his mouth as he alternated between raving and weeping. He had heard that the youth had refused all nourishment and wondered if he would survive the voyage home.

***

Glancing up, Davoir saw the prioress approaching. He nodded to Prior Andrew and went to meet her, his head bowed. “I beg forgiveness for any sorrow I have caused you, my lady, with these wicked and false accusations.”

“A most serious allegation had been made against me, Father. You came seeking the truth and found it,” she replied. “There is no shame in doing as you were commanded or wishing to serve our abbess well.” But Eleanor could not help thinking that few men could perform an act of humility, as Davoir had just done, and still retain an arrogant demeanor. It was not uncommon for younger sons of great families to enter the Church more out of ambition than faith, but the prioress had met some whose hearts God had softened. This man was not one of those.

“But I accused your sub-infirmarian and you of far worse than breaking vows of chastity. For that, I shall beg a harsh penance.”

“We knew we were innocent and had faith in God’s justice.” The prioress tried not to bite her tongue too hard to keep from saying more. Tempting as it was to ignore or even refuse his request for forgiveness, Eleanor knew she could not. “What we might have suffered was over in a moment, and our hearts are joyful that we have been vindicated. Forgiveness is not needed, Father. You had a duty to perform. God cast His light on the facts as we knew He would.” She wondered if he would mention Renaud now and express some sorrow or regret. Surely the priest knew he bore some responsibility for what had happened.

Davoir clutched his hands together. “Your sub-prioress has resigned her office because of her brother’s actions, but she is a worthy woman and a good servant of God. I pray you will have mercy on her.”

“I have accepted her plea to be released from the duty she has long performed with honor, Father. It is her wish, not mine. Once she has returned to health, I shall speak with her about her desired path of service, as well as what is best for our priory, but I assure you that I bear her no enmity. It was her brother who sinned against us, not Sister Ruth.” It seems he has entirely forgotten about Renaud, she thought, but then the clerk was a steward’s son. All souls might be equal in God’s judgement, but rank still raised some above others in the eyes of mortals.

He smiled with relief. “It is with great joy that I return to my sister at Fontevraud Abbey, not only with complete repudiation of the false claims against you, but a fine report on your leadership in all aspects at this daughter house.” He swallowed and looked away for a moment. “She has always held you in especial regard, among all her daughters, for the work you do in God’s service. She will not be surprised at my laudatory report, but she will be most pleased.”

Since he was so much taller than she, the priest stared down at her. His smile and gaze made her uneasy until she realized that they reminded her of her cat when he approached a fine piece of fish she had saved for him. She struggled not to laugh. Then, with exemplary humility, Eleanor knelt. “Give this unworthy woman your blessing, Father, for I am mortal and suffer many sins.”

Standing as straight and grave as the bishop he would soon become, Davoir granted the request and waited for her to rise. Briefly, he glanced at Thomas but chose to ignore him.

The monk managed not to smile. He was pleased that the priest knew nothing of his father’s rank or the man might have been more conciliatory despite Thomas’ illegitimacy. At least one king’s bastard had held higher rank in the Church than this man ever will, the monk thought. But he was grateful he would always be a simple monk within the priory he happily called his home.

He stepped away but kept his head bowed while his prioress and the prior bid their guest a formal farewell.

“Brother, may I interrupt your meditations?”

Startled, Thomas looked up to see Conan by his side.

“I have a message for you.”

The monk brightened. “Gytha…”

“No, I have no message from the manor house, but I do have word of another birth.”

Thomas blinked, then noticed the smile twinkling in the guard captain’s eyes. Suddenly, he felt his face grow hot.

“Durant of Norwich wishes you to know that your blessing last year brought great joy. His wife has been safely delivered of a healthy son. Although the good wine merchant has vowed to return here with them both at some future date, he will first send a worthy gift to this priory in gratitude for God’s kindness—and yours.” The guard bowed.

“Will you see Master Durant soon?” Thomas knew his voice trembled.

“After I have delivered this company to their ships, I return to court to report on my adventures.” Conan’s expression was inscrutable. “Master Durant provides some of the king’s wine and is often in attendance there. I believe I may meet him.”

“Will you tell him…?” Thomas turned away, and then forced himself to finish his sentence. “Will you say that I continue to consider him my brother after our time together in Walsingham? I pray daily for his health, that of his wife, and now his babe.” With a genuine smile, he looked back at the captain. “You say a son? What is the babe’s name?”

Conan grinned. “He was named after his mother’s favorite uncle, a man who died only a few months before the birth. Coincidentally, his name was
Thomas
.”

The monk did not bother to hide this blush, suspecting this man might not care about the cause. “I am sure the boy will be a credit to his good kin and will become a far worthier man than another who also bears that name.”

Conan agreed to relay the message, and, with a pat on the monk’s shoulder, returned to his horse and men outside the priory gate.

***

When the party had left, and the sound of the travelers’ horses had faded, a great sigh rose from the three monastics who could now return to the tasks that had been set aside for no better reason than a man’s petty longing for revenge.

Although Prioress Eleanor had given the priest her forgiveness, and most certainly forgave her former sub-prioress, she was not so sure she could forgive Sister Ruth’s brother. She did ask herself if she should tell her own brother about what had happened, then rejected the idea. To do so would be as petty as what the baron had done. In time, she decided, God would render some justice on him, and she was glad to let Him do it.

After some discussion with her prior about what tasks must be done first, Eleanor and Thomas walked back along the path that led to the hospital and to her own quarters.

Before they had gone far, they heard a voice calling out.

Nute raced down the path toward them.

“What news?” the two monastics shouted in unison.

Nute skidded to a halt in front of them, stood up straight, and took a deep breath. “Sister Anne has announced that Mistress Gytha was safely delivered of a healthy son. He shall be named
Fulke.
” Then he frowned. “I could hear the babe outside the manor house, my lady. He has the crowner’s lungs.”