Covenant With Hell (Medieval Mysteries)

by Priscilla Royal

  But Mistress Emelyne claimed that rumor also pointed to Father Vincent as the nun’s lover. Gracia had only told her that the priest helped the pair meet, but Eleanor had not had time to ask the child if the priest might be meeting the nun as well. Sister Roysia’s friend knew about only one man. And there was an unknown witness. Gracia? Another nun? Both?

  Rising from the bench, Eleanor shook her head in dismay. She must speak with Brother Thomas about all this. But she was deeply troubled by the most obvious, unanswered question.

  Assuming the curious encounters between nun and craftsman had been chaste, what possible reason could they have had to meet, and why in the bell tower? Of all the explanations she could imagine, none excused the disgrace their actions brought to Ryehill Priory.

  Chapter Twenty

  Prioress Ursell rose from her prie-dieu and brushed dust from her robe. Her nail snagged on the rough cloth and tore a small hole. Glaring at the spot, she knew she must mend it herself. Ryehill was too poor to allow her to hire a maid, and the nun who served instead was a pitiful creature who never cleaned properly and stuck more needles in fingers than cloth.

  As the prioress walked into her audience chamber, she was pleased to note the snapping fire in the grate. At least one duty had been performed properly.

  The day was as chill as her mood.

  Her orisons just now had been personal, and offering her distress to God had briefly calmed her. She had been shattered by the revelation of Sister Roysia’s wickedness, a woman she had trusted with any secrets heard and with the knowledge of how she handled them. Letting a nun under her rule have that privilege was a delicate decision. She had erred in judging the woman suitable. Sister Roysia’s betrayal had wounded her deeply.

  Now she must choose another to stand inside the chambers when she had dealings with worldly men. The one she had picked for the meeting with Master Larcher was useless. Although Prioress Ursell used fear on occasion to achieve obedience, she understood that too much of it bred rebellion, and so she had only mentioned briefly to the nun that hellfire awaited those who disobeyed their religious leaders. After she had met with the craftsman and the nun had fled to the infirmarian, vomiting the little she had eaten at the last meal, the prioress concluded that the woman had no stomach for the duties of an attendant.

  Prioress Ursell was too upset to note her own unconscious witticism.

  As she considered the possible choices amongst her nuns to replace Sister Roysia, she regretted how few were in her charge. She knew all their weaknesses and strengths, but no name rose to mind. An aged one whose hearing had dulled might be best, she thought, but even her sole elderly nun was blessed with sharp ears.

  She heard a rough scratching at her chamber door. The practice annoyed her, and today the balance of her humors was still fragile. “Enter!” she barked.

  A nun walked into the room, head bowed, and hands modestly clasped.

  “Why have you come to me?”

  “Over a troubling matter, my lady.”

  “Speak, but be brief.” Ursell settled herself into her chair and waved the woman to a spot a few feet in front of her.

  “I do not judge what I have witnessed, for that is not my privilege, but the incident is one I believe you must hear about.”

  Ursell hoped this was not another complaint about special friendships or taking an extra bite at supper. Such things were duly punished, and she must be informed, but she had no patience with little frailties today. “Continue.”

  “The prioress of Tyndal went to walk in the cloister garden after the last Office. There she met with the nun who was so ardently favored by Sister Roysia. You know her as…”

  Ursell waved that away. “Your purpose, Sister.” Yet she was now interested in what this woman was saying. Studying her, she recalled that this nun had occasionally come to her with offenses that merited more than a minor penance from the guilty one. As she thought about it, she also recalled that she was one of the few in Ryehill Priory not to admire Sister Roysia.

  “She has told this guest of our priory that Sister Roysia met secretly with a man in the bell tower, although she also swore that our sister claimed they did not do so for any evil purpose.” Her mouth pursed with contempt. “I do not know if this tale is true, but I was shocked that anyone in our priory would say such a thing to a stranger.”

  “She mentioned this wickedness to Prioress Eleanor, a woman who has no cause to know of it?” Ursell began to tremble. “Were it even true, of course!”

  “She did, my lady.”

  “What else did this child of the Devil say?”

  “That there was another who witnessed these meetings.”

  Prioress Ursell leapt from her chair, her face pale with horror. “Who?”

  “This guest, unappreciative of our hospitality, did ask our disloyal sister, but no name was spoken.”

  The leader of Ryehill Priory began to pace, fury replacing astonishment. “Prioress Eleanor questioned her,” she muttered. “She dared to interrogate one of my nuns without my permission or my presence.”

  “Although I have no right to judge, my lady, I confess I was shocked that this lady of Tyndal behaved in this discourteous manner.” She shook her head. “Forgive me if I err, but I believe she ought to have refused to listen to our wayward sister as soon as she understood the nature of the tale. She has no authority here and should have closed her ears to these scandalous words.” Looking up, she shifted her gaze to the cross on the wall. “If the tale were true, only you have the right to know of it and render judgment, not a stranger.”

  “You did well to come to me with this,” the prioress said.

  As she looked at the nun standing meekly in front of her, she was reminded of herself at that more youthful age. How could she have been bewitched with Sister Roysia when it was this nun she should have chosen for her attendant? There was no adoring crowd around her, and the woman prayed with quiet fervor. Neither disliked nor liked, she walked about the priory with head down and eyes alert. No one noticed her. Yet she had just proven how deeply she cared about the priory’s reputation. Indeed, Prioress Ursell thought, she understands the importance as much as I.

  Gesturing for the nun to kneel, the prioress gave her a blessing and graced her with a rare smile. The woman’s face betrayed no smugness over the new favor she had found with her prioress, but Ursell was certain she understood that the news had pleased.

  “For now, I shall not reprove our untrustworthy sister until I learn how much of her heart Satan has possessed. Be my eyes and ears in this. If she seeks out the prioress of Tyndal again to continue her scandalous talk, come to me at once. Should any discussions of Sister Roysia’s virtue be held by any of our religious with anyone, I want the names, places, and details of their conversations.”

  The nun swore to obey, bowed humbly to her leader, and left in silence.

  Prioress Ursell was filled with anger and a longing for retribution. She knew that some in Walsingham had heard gossip of Sister Roysia’s sins, but a rumor with no proof may fade away or be countered. Unlike that nun who had returned from the arms of her chapman great with child, Sister Roysia had died before there was similar evidence of wickedness. As for her religious, she feared from the beginning that the story could not be kept from them, but she would forbid discussion of it.

  But this chattering sister, this treasonous prattler, had spoken of the scandal to a stranger and presented the tale as truth. The punishment meted out to this creature would be long and harsh. As for Prioress Eleanor, she must find some way of silencing her.

  Looking up at the stark cross on the wall near her carved chair, Prioress Ursell swore an oath that this matter of Sister Roysia and Master Larcher would be ended now before the scandal grew like a virulent cancer. When the nun died, she thought the rumors would as well, but she was troubled by the new arrogance shown by the craftsman.

  “We are poor enough,” she muttered. “We cannot suffer greater loss because of what has hap
pened here.”

  Walking to the chamber door, she threw it open and ordered a messenger sent to Father Vincent. Master Larcher must be dealt with, finally, harshly, and now. As for this obnoxious prioress from Tyndal, Ursell would make sure the woman learned there was a penalty for insulting the leader of Ryehill.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Eleanor knelt beside her monk in front of the altar holding the Shrine of the Virgin’s Lock.

  The woman who had accompanied her to the chapel finished her prayers and rose to find a quiet corner where she might breast-feed her querulous baby.

  After her footsteps faded, the prioress whispered, “I must speak with you, Brother.”

  “And I with you, my lady. The matter is urgent.”

  “Give me your tidings first.” She looked around. “I see no one too near.”

  “Gracia is outside,” he whispered, “but we must hurry if we are to speak with her. She is afraid Father Vincent will catch her.”

  “By what miracle have you found the girl?”

  “I saw her coming from the stable near the inn and called out. She motioned for me to follow her to a quiet street, and there I asked her to meet with us. She seems frightened, apart from her desire to avoid the priest, but would not explain why. I promised we would not endanger her.”

  With an apology to God for failing to offer all the prayers she had intended, Eleanor rose to her feet and told Thomas to take her to the girl. “Did she tell you that I discovered her in the bell tower, Brother? I pray I have gained her trust, but fear otherwise. She disappeared before I could ask her everything I needed to know.”

  “She is clever at hiding, my lady, but she trusts you. She insisted that you be with me if she were to tell her tale.”

  When they reached the chapel door, Brother Thomas cried out in dismay. The child had vanished.

  “I do not see Father Vincent,” Eleanor said, gazing down the road toward the priory, “but something must have frightened her away. I doubt she will risk her safety and meet us again.”

  Thomas looked in the opposite direction. “There! She beckons,” he said and rushed away.

  Eleanor glanced nervously behind her where the young woman was crooning to her baby while she nursed him in the chapel shadows.

  She knew she should not follow her monk alone down the backstreets of Walsingham without proper attendance, but she dared not take a stranger with her lest Gracia flee. If she did not go to the child now, the girl might never help them resolve vital problems, and another murder might be committed. Brother Thomas could not pose all the questions needed because she had not had the time to tell him what she had learned.

  Afraid to disobey the rules of her calling, but equally dreading the consequences if she did not, Eleanor hesitated, took one step toward the young mother, then made up her mind not to summon the woman. “May God forgive and protect me,” she murmured. If He was kind, the mother would be so occupied with her babe that she might not even notice the prioress’ absence.

  Picking up her robe so she would not trip on the hem, the Prioress of Tyndal raced down the street after Brother Thomas.

  Still ahead of the pair, Gracia veered off the main road and entered a dark street—one that was empty, narrow, and stinking of urine and garbage.

  Please stop, Eleanor silently implored the girl. In this less than salubrious part of town, where residents did not pay for cleaner streets, she was grateful for the company of her tall monk.

  Gracia waved the pair to a dark niche between two buildings.

  Eleanor looked up and shivered. One of the buildings leaned ominously. Should her transgression in disobeying the restrictions of her vocation be deemed wicked enough, she would die with all her sins still upon her if that structure collapsed on her. Silently, she begged God not to punish Gracia and her monk for an offense that was hers alone.

  “Why did you flee, child?” Thomas crouched by her side. “Speak quickly,” he whispered. “My prioress should not be on these streets, but she comes out of love for you.”

  Gracia’s face was pale. “I thought I saw the merchant in the street, Brother, the one who hurt me.” She pulled on his sleeve until he bent his ear to her mouth. “If you need to find me again, the stableman for the inn has now taken mercy on me and lets me sleep in the straw of the loft when there are few horses and only he is there.”

  Eleanor felt her face grow hot with anger. “Has this vile creature done you any further harm?”

  The child shook her head, but her gaze never left the ground.

  Eleanor was not convinced that Gracia was telling the truth, but she sensed the girl did not fully trust anyone enough to confide her vulnerability. Kneeling on the other side of the child, the prioress took her hand. “What more have you to tell us? You told me in the bell tower that Father Vincent knew Master Larcher met Sister Roysia there and abetted their encounters.”

  Thomas stiffened in shock.

  “According to one of the women who shares my quarters,” Eleanor said to him, “there are rumors that Master Larcher was the nun’s lover. Some also say that Father Vincent was as well. With all that has been happening, this is the first opportunity I have had to tell you.”

  He was stunned into silence.

  Eleanor wondered if he thought the priest incapable of the sin of lust or had some other reason for such dismay.

  “I do not believe Sister Roysia met with the merchant for any wicked purpose, my lady.” Gracia’s eyes never stopped scanning the area despite the presence of her two protectors.

  “Tell us more about Father Vincent,” Thomas hissed.

  Gracia turned to him. “After watching the craftsman lower himself from the bell tower and flee to the top of an empty house, the priest caught Master Larcher climbing down the ladder into the garden behind. He made the merchant confess he had been meeting Sister Roysia, and I overheard the priest threaten the man with exposure unless he paid for his silence. He said the prioress would refuse to buy his badges if she knew of this.” The child’s lips twitched up briefly. “Father Vincent did not say it was payment to him. He called it a donation to the Shrine of the Virgin’s Lock in expiation of his sins.”

  “Did the priest see you, child?” Eleanor had not released the girl’s hand and wondered why Gracia continued to look around so fearfully. She looked behind her but saw nothing that would trouble the girl.

  “They both did, and that is the reason Father Vincent hates me,” she replied. “I laughed and he caught me. I swore I would say nothing. How he gets alms for his shrine is none of my affair. Yet he chose not to believe I would keep my word and has since threatened me with hellfire and rocks. When he caught the man raping me, he used that as his excuse to discredit anything I might say. Now I no longer believe I need keep silent.”

  Thomas looked at his prioress with a sorrowful look.

  “You have said you do not think the merchant and Sister Roysia were lovers,” she said. “Can you confirm or deny whether she and the priest were?”

  “Sister Roysia did not couple with the merchant when I saw them, nor do I think she would commit that sin. She was a most devout nun, charitable and kind. As for the priest, she never would lie with him even if the Devil tortured her.” She glanced over at the monk. “She did not like Father Vincent.”

  Thomas sighed. “A wise as well as a most virtuous woman.”

  “Did the priest know they were not meeting to lie together?” Eleanor saw the child’s eyes widen slightly and knew the cause was not her question. She glanced over her shoulder. Although she thought a shadow moved, she did not see anyone in the narrow street. Squinting to focus, she decided the movement had been imagined.

  “Master Larcher did not argue when Father Vincent accused him of that sin.”

  “Whatever their purpose was in the bell tower, I think it odd that the craftsman would not protect the nun’s reputation,” Eleanor said. She shifted her position. “You overheard some of their conversations. Why did they meet in such a s
trange way and in the tower?”

  “Sister Roysia heard many things in Prioress Ursell’s chambers, my lady, when visitors came. The nun said that secrets were often whispered while she waited just outside the door on those occasions the prioress was briefly called away. I do not know how she and Master Larcher knew each other. They did not behave as kin, but they were worried about a rumor that an attempt on the king’s life was being planned when he came to Walsingham. Before her death, Sister Roysia told the craftsman that an assassin was nigh. Master Larcher begged her to send him word the moment she found out who the man was.” She looked from one to the other. “Perhaps you will know better than I what he meant when he said: ‘I must send word to my master.’”

  Speechless with horror, Eleanor and Thomas stared at each other.

  “She gave her word but died soon after.” Gracia suddenly stood up, pulling away from the pair. Her next words came in a rush. “I never again saw Master Larcher in the bell tower. Maybe the nun was hoping to meet him the night she fell to her death. Perhaps she learned who the slayer is. I do not know.” Without warning, the girl fled into the darkness between the two buildings.

  Eleanor and Thomas leapt to their feet and spun around. The monk stepped in front of his prioress, but she managed to peek around him.

  The only thing they could see in the gloomy street was a trotting dog in search of scraps. Not far from where the two stood, he stopped at a narrow opening and sniffed, then began to growl.

  They did not move.

  The dog spun around and ran toward the more traveled road.

  Nothing in the shadows moved.

  Thomas gestured to the prioress to remain where she was with her back protected by the building. Then he edged along the walls toward the spot where the dog had stopped. When he reached the place, he jumped in front of the opening, his fists clenched in defense.

  Eleanor’s heart pounded like a drum.

  Thomas dropped his hands and leaned into the space to look around. Finally, he walked back to her.