Tyrant of the Mind

by Priscilla Royal

  Eleanor shuddered with a sudden chill of suspicion. “The night Henry died…”

  Juliana struck her fist on the bench. “I was enraged! He had treated Isabelle cruelly that day, and I longed to see him punished. I suspected my father believed she had lied about her courses, as did I, and would be waiting in the corridor outside their chambers. It was then I decided how Henry should suffer for his actions.” She stared at her clenched fist with horror, then peeled it open with her other hand as if it had frozen in place. “I asked him to meet me in the chapel, and I told him that Isabelle had succumbed to his pleas and would be waiting for him. He thought my father was sleeping in the barracks.”

  Eleanor felt almost dizzy from her racing thoughts. Once again, she felt utterly inadequate to the task. If only her Aunt Beatrice were here to advise her, but she was not. “And thus you believe you sent him to his death?”

  The groan that came from Juliana’s lips was as hopeless as that of a soul facing the fires of Hell. “I meant only for my father to give him the beating he deserved, my lady! I did not mean him to die!”

  Eleanor reached out and took her friend’s arm. “Again I will say it! You did not kill your brother. Your father did and with him lies the ultimate guilt. Juliana, you need only confess…”

  “Confess I shall, but I will no longer live in this world!”

  “Give yourself to God and enter a convent then. Your soul will find peace.”

  “I must say more, my lady.”

  How could there be, Eleanor asked herself, but the chill that had run through her body now settled in her heart.

  “Isabelle did seem to have hope that she might conceive, and my father could not have been the one to give her that joy.”

  The chill now froze Eleanor. “A man? She had seduced…”

  “After what I saw at dinner that night, I did wonder if she expected your brother to share her bed that night, my lady.”

  ***

  Eleanor stood at the window and watched as a solitary bird flew past. In such a moment, she felt alone, so utterly alone. “And he did come, did he not?”

  Juliana said nothing. Then she rose and walked over to the prioress, standing so close that Eleanor could smell the sweet scent of her body. “Your brother is a man like all other men, my lady, but I believe he meant no ill.”

  “The man who was to be your husband came to your stepmother’s bed and you say he meant no ill?”

  “And so she may have hoped, but I do not know with certainty that your brother was complicit in her sinful desire that night.” She touched Eleanor gently on the arm. “Since Isabelle suspected when my father usually began his vigils, she would certainly have told Robert when to come and leave to avoid discovery. For this reason, I think his presence in the hall must have been by chance.”

  Or not, Eleanor thought sadly. She had tried so hard to believe her brother innocent of adultery, but she could no longer ignore the evidence suggesting otherwise. “But it was Henry who came first.”

  “When I heard the commotion in the hall, I waited, then left my room expecting to see my father with Henry. Instead, I saw the outline of another man and recognized the shape and size to be that of your brother. Coward that I am, I retreated to my room and prayed that my wicked plot would not bring my father’s blows upon Robert.”

  “If he was coming to cuckold your father, he would have deserved such. How could you have borne such a thing, Juliana? He was to be your husband!”

  Juliana shrugged. “In my heart, I believe him to be innocent for Robert is an honorable man, my lady.” The light was stronger now and, with eyes shut, she stood in the middle of the sunbeam that poured into the room with a warmth they had all forgotten in the snow-filled days. She turned to the prioress, her eyes as sad as those of Mary Magdalene at the sepulchre. “Do you know how jealous Henry was of the sisterly closeness I had with Isabelle? That jealousy was the only reason he sided with me over my wish to leave the world and take holy vows. Then he tried to taint the love with slander. When our families decided your brother and I should marry, he told Robert that he would have no joy of me in the marital bed unless his tastes ran more to boys. Your brother was chivalrous and defended me.”

  “As he should, Juliana,” Eleanor said. She might never know if her brother had lied about the reason he had been in that hall at such an inauspicious time. Indeed, the love she bore him demanded that she honor his private frailties; thus she would never ask him, although there was one person she might…

  “For Robert’s courtesy, he and Henry quarreled. For that decency, I honor your brother, and because of that integrity, I also realized I could not marry him. A good man deserves a wife who will take delight in his body and long to bear his children. In His grace, God cut from my heart any wish for a husband or children.”

  “Many share that feeling, but would it not be a kindness to stay in the world and give comfort to Isabelle?”

  Juliana sadly shook her head. “It would be as much a lie as if I were to marry Robert. I cannot be a comfort to Isabelle who tried to sell her soul and that of my father. What love we might have borne for each other is now as sour as milk left in hot sun for me. There can be no joy for us together any longer.”

  “You might bring her to a greater peace with God.”

  “Could you bring serenity to one for whom you bore a flawed love?” Once again, Juliana’s eyes turned black.

  Eleanor realized that the groan she heard was her own. How often had she wished to brighten Brother Thomas’ dark moods to no avail? “A hard question, but I confess it is a fair one,” she replied.

  There was silence between them.

  “Why did you confess to Henry’s murder?” Eleanor asked.

  “I had led him to it, and I thought it would have been better for me to hang than my father.”

  Eleanor was outraged. “So you would not take your own life but would make use of the hangman to do the deed for you?”

  “Nay! I confess to the desire for self-murder, but it was your priest that stopped me, my lady. As I stood on the parapet of your father’s castle, I thought to throw myself from the stone walkway.” Juliana’s eyes grew glazed. “Do you understand? For an instant of pain, I might have destroyed a lifetime of anguish.”

  “For an instant of pain, you’d have gained an eternity of anguish.”

  Juliana leaned against the prioress as if all her strength had vanished. “Take me, my lady, for I am so very weary of the world. Sometimes I fear I am the greatest sinner on this earth. Sometimes I know I am not. I beg you to allow me the peace of a hut in the forest where God can give me the understanding and solace I need.”

  Eleanor hugged her. “If you seek to understand love, He will teach you,” she said with a hopeful tone, for indeed she sought such understanding herself. “But why ask to be an anchoress? Why not come to Tyndal and join the community of nuns?”

  “I long for a life so silent that even I will be able to hear whatever wisdom God may grant me. The voices of other nuns, no matter how sweet their prayers and songs, would be like a roar in my ears, preventing me from hearing His precious words.” For a moment, she fell silent. “Do you fear that my calling is only for the moment, that my wish to leave the world is based only on sins God would forgive, as you rightly noted?”

  “Not to question would be an injustice to you and to God.”

  “Never have I desired marriage, my lady. Once I was consumed with lust, then had it quenched.”

  “You might feel the same again, then wish for marriage.”

  Juliana smiled. “It was a youthful folly, my lady, a burning in the loins, quickly slaked and never to be repeated. Indeed, I have long wondered if God meant me for the chaste life, but I felt no calling. It was after Isabelle married my father that He began to send me signs pointing in that direction. Of course He would forgive those sins I have confessed to you, but He meant me to see how deeply corrupted my soul was. I thought my love fo
r Isabelle and for my father was innocent. Innocent? It was befouled with sinful ignorance, and I began to realize I knew nothing of what love meant.”

  “But to turn away from all human comfort and support?”

  “I spent more time in prayer, but the sound of other voices dragged my thoughts back down to earth. Isabelle called out to me, clinging, and needing my comfort. My father found solace in whatever silly distractions I provided for him.”

  “All this is good in God’s eyes.”

  “I found no peace. Where was the silence I needed to hear God’s wisdom? I longed to understand so much, but the wailing of the world kept me from my desire. Slowly God began to reveal to me that I must escape from all human kind. By the time we came to Wynethorpe Castle, I knew I should. When I led my brother to his death, I knew it without doubt. I must not remain in the world. It is God’s will that I be entombed at Tyndal, my lady, and I must obey.”

  “Why Tyndal?”

  Juliana looked up, her eyes darkly luminous. “Because God has directed me there. I had a dream. A light brighter than the sun at noon awakened me, and, from that light, a voice rang forth with the sweetness of church bells on a summer morning. It told me that I should find my abode where lived a young priest with red-gold hair. That very next day, I looked down into the inner ward of Wynethorpe and saw Brother Thomas. As I watched him walking from the chapel, his cowl slipped and I saw his hair. Then I knew the dream had been a sign. Tyndal was to be my home.”

  Eleanor flinched. For just a moment, she found herself wondering with unaccustomed spite if the dream might have come after seeing Brother Thomas rather than before. She shook the malice from her heart. Such jealousy was reprehensible. Hadn’t her priest taken vows to reject worldly lust, as she had herself, and wasn’t Juliana asking to do the same? Juliana could not be a rival for the monk’s affections. Indeed, she was begging to separate herself from all men. Eleanor shut her eyes tightly. Ignoble thoughts, she said to herself.

  “You have visions then?” Eleanor asked in a steady tone. The changing color of her friend’s eyes from brown to coal black made her feel uneasy.

  “Visions or dreams, my lady. Do they not both come from the soul and hopefully from God?”

  “You know you must still ask your brother’s permission. I cannot accept you without George’s blessing.”

  “He will give it.”

  “If so and the bishop gives his approval, then shall I. You will have your sanctuary at Tyndal, Juliana. I pray it brings you peace.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Sister Anne bent over the shivering woman. “Do you need another blanket, my lady?” she asked gently.

  Isabelle drew her knees up toward her chin and continued to stare. Her eyes did not blink.

  “May I call Brother Thomas to bring you comfort?”

  The woman’s only response was a broken cackle.

  Sister Anne stood up, beckoned to Isabelle’s maid to keep watch over her mistress, and walked out of the room. Just outside the door, Brother Thomas was standing, head bowed in thought.

  “She’ll have none of you, brother.”

  “If not, perhaps she will see me?” Eleanor asked, as she emerged from the stairwell, then shook her head. “Indeed she will whether or not she wishes it,” she said and walked into Isabelle’s room, slamming the heavy door behind her. Thomas and Anne looked at each other and shuddered. There was something in the tone of their prioress’ voice that neither of them had ever heard before.

  ***

  The maid having been dismissed, Eleanor sat next to Isabelle. The widow’s eyes were closed. Her arms hugged her knees close to her body. Blood still stained her hands and fingernails.

  “Isabelle?”

  “Go away.”

  “I think not. You need to hear what I have to tell you.”

  “You? What could you possibly have to tell me?” The widow snorted. “Bloodless, unsexed thing that you are.”

  “Unsexed? Bloodless? Not long ago you were accusing me of everything but playing mare to George’s stallion. I shall lay that aside, however. What I have to tell you has little to do with sex or love, yet all to do with fear and hate.”

  Isabelle blinked, her face grew mottled.

  “You did not kill him you know.”

  Isabelle put one stained hand over her mouth.

  “You wanted to, but the sin was in your heart, not in your deed.”

  “How did you know…”

  “Henry’s corpse spoke well enough. When you opened your door, you knew it was not your husband. He had been safely banished to the barracks and your maid sent off to sleep elsewhere as well. You had hoped that Robert would come to your room and thought it was he. Were you horrified to see Henry? Did he whisper at your door, disguising his voice?”

  Isabelle lowered her hand and stared at Eleanor, then gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Tell me where I err. He grabbed you? You clawed at his face? Did you then twist away from him? Somehow you got that knife. A small woman’s knife. And you stabbed him. All you could think about was the time he had raped you.” Eleanor hesitated. Was she right in this or was she about to make a horrible situation worse? She swallowed and continued. “Or was it you who seduced him and drove him wild with lust until he took you and gave you the child you could use to marry his father? Did you stab him to protect your honor or did you want to silence him…”

  Isabelle sat up, then spat at Eleanor. “How dare you say I willingly enticed Henry to couple with me! I loathed him more than any imp of Satan.” A light now danced wildly in her eyes. “Yes, I thought it was your precious brother at the door. At dinner, my hand invited him and his cock most willingly accepted.”

  Eleanor felt the heat of rage flood her face but willed herself to say nothing.

  Isabelle then shut her eyes and her color paled. “When I opened the door and saw Henry’s face, his lust and anger twisting his piggish features, I drew back, but he grabbed me. I clawed at him, but he forced me against the wall. On the chest next to me was the knife I used at dinner. I grabbed it, then struck at his face, his neck, anything I could reach. He drew back at my assault, and it was then I struck him in the side.”

  Eleanor bent over and touched the trembling woman on her arm. “You believed you had killed him.”

  “He fell backwards. I must have fainted. When my eyes opened, my husband was standing over me. I was lying naked in my bed and he was wiping Henry’s blood from my body. My husband then threw a robe at me and told me to go to the door, that I should scream but not until he had escaped back toward the tower.”

  “Henry’s body was outside in the corridor.”

  “Aye, and then I heard a sound from the stairwell just as my husband disappeared into the shadows. I shut the door and, when I opened it again, Robert was bent over Henry’s body, his hand upon the corpse to check for life and wound. For cert I knew not what to do. When your brother saw me, he stood, his hand red with Henry’s blood, and gestured for the candle I held to light the hallway torch. I gave it to him, then screamed.” Her voice rose hysterically. “My nightmare had come true. I would be accused of Henry’s death. I knew I would be hanged…”

  Eleanor shook her. “Your dream did not come true.”

  Isabelle blinked, then continued as if unaware of what she had just said. “I screamed. I did as my husband had bidden me. I did not know otherwise. It was then the corridor filled and the guards came and Robert stood accused of the deed I had done.”

  “A deed your husband had done, Isabelle. You may have stabbed Henry in the side, but it was your husband who gave him the fatal blow in the back.”

  “If you know what I did, how many more…”

  “I tell you that your husband did kill his own son to protect you, and you are still most worried about yourself?” Eleanor could not keep the contempt from her voice. “Fear not. As you heard, Sir Geoffrey took full blame for the murder. Indeed, he loved
you very much to have done so. He remained silent about what you might have done, and anything said in confession is cast into eternal silence. It is the corpse that suggested what you did, a corpse soon to be buried.”

  “And my guilt?”

  “Is between you and God. Your act might be construed as defense of your honor…”

  Isabelle snorted and grabbed Eleanor’s hand. Her eyes were dry as sand. “Honor? What honor had I when I showed myself naked at my chamber door in hopes of enticing Robert into my bed? What honor have I left when I whored after your brother to gain a child I will now never have?”

  “I meant the rape.”

  “Rape? What about the rape of my heart, the ripping away of each meager tenderness I have had from this world?” Tears overflowed down Isabelle’s cheeks like a flooding stream. “Mother, babe, and now sister have abandoned me!”

  “And your husband, Isabelle? Sir Geoffrey gave you the tenderness of a father when he took you into his household. Then he married you, as you wished, even though it was a sin. How could you wish to cuckold him, and do you not grieve his loss? I do not understand…”

  “Grieve? One can only weep so long over a corpse. He died when his first wife did! And all I wanted was to give my husband the child he could never father himself. Wasn’t that a kindness? He had my lands. He could share my child.” She howled with pain. “But what can you understand about love? When I spoke of you and George, I was mocking you, Prioress. There were no such tales about the two of you. You would never play such lusty games. You are a leech that bled yourself of life and longs only to bleed others, like George who may have loved you. Had Juliana married Robert, she might have kept her womanly nature and remained near to warm me with it, but she chose to follow your example and become just as bloodless as you.” Then she wailed, “Where is the sin in wanting a mother’s love, a child’s smile, a sister’s comfort? Where?”