Wine of Violence

by Priscilla Royal

  “It is made in competition with the priory’s ale,” Brother Simeon said, his deep voice lowered to a growl. He had tasted nothing offered.

  “Indeed? Do we lose income as a consequence of this?” Eleanor asked, pointing to the sweating crock in front of her and glancing at Tostig’s expressionless face.

  “We make far more but sell less as a result of this, this…” Simeon waved his hand dismissively in the direction of the aforementioned jug.

  “Then perhaps we should cease trying to compete in such a profitless area,” Eleanor said.

  Tostig’s eyes widened slightly.

  “You have just seen our accounts. We cannot lose more revenue just because this…” Simeon waved his hand in the direction of Tostig as if Gytha’s brother were no more than a piece of pottery.

  Eleanor raised her hand to silence the receiver before he finished his sentence and before Gytha’s brother could react to the suggested insult. “Master Tostig, I have an idea which may be of benefit to both you and the priory. Perhaps you could come to Tyndal to discuss the possibilities of a partnership in this ale venture?”

  Tostig glanced at his sister, who nodded imperceptibly.

  “I would be honored, my lady.”

  Brother Simeon rose to his feet, his eyes narrowed in rage.

  “And what did you have in mind? Surely, as your receiver, I have a right to know what sort of scheme…”

  Thomas, who was sitting next to Simeon, reached over and tugged at the monk’s sleeve. “Brother,” he whispered. “Calm yourself. They are speaking of ale. Mere ale.”

  Simeon looked down at Thomas. The receiver’s eyes looked dead, so glazed were they with the white heat of his anger. Then his body shuddered almost imperceptibly as he regained control. He smiled, but his eyes remained narrowed.

  “Of course. My apologies, my lady, and I beg forgiveness. I have fallen prey to the sin of anger today. Perhaps Satan tempted me in my weakness from fasting. I succumbed and shall seek penance.”

  Thomas thumped the monk on the back.

  Eleanor said nothing.

  “Donkeys, my lady? You came to see my donkeys.” Tostig broke the silence and gestured toward the door to his cottage.

  Both a prudent and a proud man, Eleanor thought as she rose and walked to the door. She glanced back at him. His face showed no emotion as he waited for her to pass first through the low door. Then she smiled and winked at him.

  Tostig’s eyes grew round, his head moving a fraction backward in surprise. Then he too smiled. And winked back.

  You are a quick judge of character, my fine Saxon, Eleanor thought. I will remember that.

  As she stepped outside to the slightly muddy and gouged earthen path between the two rows of village huts and hovels, Eleanor stopped. She trembled as if a cold wind had struck her, and she looked quickly to one side.

  A man was staring at her. His black beard and brackish colored clothing were unkempt, ragged.

  Eleanor blinked. He was the man she had seen in the forest.

  He turned and sped through the space between two huts.

  “That man!” she cried to Tostig, who was just behind her. “Who is he?”

  Tostig looked around him very slowly, his expression once again blank. “What man, my lady? I see no one.”

  “Did anyone see that man?” Eleanor asked the monks as they emerged from the doorway.

  “No, my lady,” they said in near unison, standing aside to let Gytha come out behind them.

  Perhaps they had not, but Eleanor saw a fleeting frown on Tostig’s face as he gazed in the direction the strange man had disappeared.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “My foot is fine, sister.”

  Eleanor’s ankle still hurt, but she was quickly becoming intolerant of the inactivity forced on her by the injury. She had accepted the help of Gytha on the walk to the village to buy her donkey, but now that she was back in her chambers, she was both exhausted from the pain and frustrated by restlessness.

  Sister Anne was gently rewinding the ankle. “Need I remind you, my lady, that lying is a sin. Your entire foot is now swollen twice its size from the walk.”

  Eleanor sighed. Most assuredly, Prioress Felicia would have reprimanded Anne for such bluntness. Rank did demand due courtesy. On the other hand, respect must be earned else it would be as hollow and short-lived as prayers said without faith. Something her aunt had taught. Nay, she preferred the honesty, Eleanor decided. Anne did not present a false face to her and that was refreshing. Besides, she was growing quite fond of this nun whose bluntness never held malice in it. “Had you been born a man, I would have wanted you to be my confessor,” she said. “Yet I would have little to confess, for you would have already seen all my faults.”

  Anne patted the finished wrapping and stood. “Had I been a man, I would have ordered you to stay in your chambers and not allowed you to go shopping for a donkey. A donkey, of all things!” The gruffness of her rebuke was spoiled by her laugh.

  “I like Adam. He is a sweet donkey. I hope he is happy in his new home.”

  Anne rose with a slight creak in her knees and walked over to the window. Eleanor noticed that the nun stretched her shoulders as if they were stiff. Over Anne’s head she could see mounds of great clouds rushing across the sky pushed by a moist wind. A rain, chill with the hints of coming autumn, would arrive soon, she thought.

  “Most likely he is eating,” Anne said, turning back to face her prioress. “Brother Thomas took him to the stable as soon as we got back. He seems quite competent with four-legged creatures.”

  “And how is he with his two-legged charges?”

  “He shows great compassion with the suffering in the hospital. Brother Andrew also commented on that the other day.”

  “Well and good. I was concerned about choosing someone no one knew anything about to replace Brother Rupert. It was Brother Simeon’s suggestion, and it seems to have been a good one. By the way, our good receiver was not pleased with my decision to consider a partnership with Tostig on the ale business. Did I err?”

  “No, I do not think so. Tostig is a good man. Brother Simeon would not be happy with the concept, however. He has never thought the villagers any better than animals, and finds some animals superior to the villagers. The idea of joining with Tostig on making ale quite interests me, however. May I ask what in specific you had in mind?”

  “I wanted him to join with us in the making of it instead of competing against us. If we can produce more but he makes it better, I thought he might first teach us how he makes it and then monitor our process to guarantee the product was consistently good. For this I would suggest giving him a high percentage of the profit. We would gain by increased sales, and he would lose nothing, probably even gain from our mutual success.”

  “Brother Simeon would never be pleased with a man from the village telling Normans, albeit monks, what to do. Our receiver aside, however, I do not think most of the monks and certainly none of the local lay brothers would have any problem with the arrangement. Tostig is well respected here.”

  “Then Brother Simeon needs to be reminded that Saxons are not beneath us. Fontevraud has taken in monks and nuns of all ranks and origins, including prostitutes, as Jesus did Mary Magdalene. And after all these years of doing as he pleased, the good brother also seems to have forgotten that it is the prioress who makes the final decisions about the running of the priory. If he does not approve, he should ask to leave the Order and become, perhaps, a Cistercian.”

  “If I may say so, my lady, the practices of which you speak have been true at the mother house, but, except for the primacy of the prioress, we have seen little of the rest of it in England.”

  “Are you not a physician’s daughter?”

  “And I have never been accepted by Brother Simeon, nor, indeed, have I been fully accepted by some of the sisters here.”

  “Until they are ill, I would think.”

&n
bsp; Anne smiled.

  “We shall see what Tostig thinks of my idea. Perhaps he will object himself to being under the authority of a woman while he works with the monks. Do you know if he has a woman sharing his life?”

  “I do not believe he is married, my lady.”

  “Sister, not all relationships are as the lords of the Church would prefer. Does he have any woman to comfort him and tend to his needs?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Then he is unaccustomed to being ruled by one of us. He may not know what he is getting himself into with me.”

  There was a fond warmth in Anne’s smile as she replied, “I will not argue with you on that, my lady.”

  “Now tell me about our crowner. You know him well. He has made no progress in finding either the murderer or the one who attacked Brother Thomas, yet I feel he is a capable man. He quickly found the bloody garment and the knife hilt.”

  The nun blinked and turned her face away from Eleanor.

  “Speak freely, sister. I need honesty. But if the subject brings you grief…”

  “Ralf is both kind and competent, my lady, but he grew up wild. He was a frail child at birth, the last of those his parents bore, and his older brothers tormented him. He found his comfort more with the villagers than with his kin. He has great contempt for the courtly life his elder brother, the sheriff, loves; and, unlike his brother, Ralf is respected here as a diligent and just man.”

  “And he has contempt, I think, for the Church as well.”

  “There is no question of his faith…”

  “Nor was I suggesting otherwise. There may be as many ways of showing faith as there are honest believers. The contempt I heard was reserved for those men and women who have taken vows.”

  “He respects you, my lady.”

  Eleanor sat back and, in silence, studied the nun in front of her. Anne’s head was still bowed and her face turned away. “Sister, you are protecting the man from something. Should I know the reason?”

  When Anne looked up, Eleanor saw tiny rivulets of tears flowing down her cheeks. “I grieve for Ralf, my lady, but my feelings for him are chaste. As a sister, I love him. As a sister, I want to protect him for his spirit is in much pain. There is nothing more.”

  “You still fear answering my question about his contempt for those dedicated to a religious life?”

  “If I may be so bold, my lady, your views and ways are very different from those of Prioress Felicia. The change will take some getting used to. Plain speech, while not punished in the past, was not often welcome.”

  “As I told Gytha, sister, I respect honesty without malice. If I do not like what I hear, I try to reflect and pray on it, not condemn out of hand. Now, please, answer me.”

  “Ralf’s second eldest brother is high in the Church, my lady. He is known more for his acceptance of bribes in matters of canon law brought before him than justice. This and his brother’s childhood cruelty to him have colored his view of men in the Church.”

  Eleanor sighed. “I hope we may one day teach your Ralf that we are not all corrupt.”

  “I believe you have begun, my lady,” Anne said. She wiped her cheeks dry.

  “I would return to Adam, the donkey.” For I have asked enough of you for one day, Eleanor thought. “Do you think he’s lonely?”

  Anne tilted her head in puzzlement.

  “Might we consider whether to get a fellow for him?”

  “Why?” Anne frowned.

  “In case I need someone to ride in attendance when I go abroad.” Eleanor smiled with mischievous delight.

  “Brother Simeon is much too large to ride on a donkey, my lady. And if he were not the one to attend you, then perhaps Brother John or Brother Andrew, but they are…”

  “I was thinking of you.”

  Anne’s eyes widened in shock. “Me? Why, surely if you need a nun to accompany you, Sister Ruth or…”

  “Who but you would remind me of my failings when I needed it? Who but you would be comfortable outside the priory and would not mind being in the world when it was necessary?”

  “You flatter me, my lady. I am grateful for your confidence and accept…”

  “…out of duty, but will you come with some gladness of spirit as well?”

  “With pleasure, but only if I can find and train a novice talented enough to learn about herbs and potions to replace me in my treatments at the hospital. Prioress Felicia would not allow me to do so. She was not completely convinced my methods were sanctioned by God, although Brother Rupert had so assured her many times.”

  “You shall have a novice, more than one if you find others to your liking. Question them and select the most promising. You will have time to do the training. I am not planning any visits except to the local farms and tenants. Brother Simeon could ride his horse for those.”

  “Then I agree with both gratitude and gladness, my lady.”

  “Good. That gladness is a first between us then! Now I need Gytha to help me down the stairs. Weak ankle or not, I must see Sister Matilda about her former trips to the forest as I promised our good crowner.”

  Anne looked at her with a frown, but, knowing she would lose this battle, gave in. “Just one question before I get Gytha, if I may?”

  Eleanor nodded.

  “Why did you name the donkey Adam?”

  “After the first man.”

  Anne bent and looked directly into Eleanor’s eyes. “And?”

  Eleanor laughed. “My father. As my newly chosen beast was roped, he dug his hooves into the earth and brayed in loud protest. I was reminded that those who are enemies of my lord father claim he can be bloody-minded in both action and speech. Those who love him concede that he is often strong-willed but with the speech and action of an honest man.”

  “Just like his daughter, I’d say,” Anne replied with a grin and a glance at Eleanor’s wrapped foot.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Brother Simeon paced in tight circles around the room, hands behind his back, face scarlet from too much anger and too much wine. Thomas watched in silence.

  “How could she have embarrassed me like that? After all my years of service to Tyndal. After all I’ve done to keep the priory solvent. After the praise I have received from our Abbess for my fine annual accounts! And to do such a foul thing in front of a Saxon churl and his crude runt of a sister. For cert, the woman shows no judgement. She allows far too much familiarity from these low orders! A woman should never be put in charge of things she knows nothing about. Surely our founder never intended such a thing to happen.”

  “Indeed, brother, I understood that he meant only for us to experience humility by putting a woman above us. Surely he never meant for her to actually lead us.” In fact, Thomas cared little for why Fontevraud’s founder did anything, but agreement with Simeon seemed the wisest course in his ongoing effort to gain the receiver’s confidence.

  “Well said, brother. Something a man could easily see.”

  Thomas held up the pitcher of wine and raised his eyebrows in a question.

  Simeon glanced at his empty goblet and nodded. “Of course,” he said, taking several long swallows from the replenished supply, “Robert d’Arbrissel never was made a saint. Rome must have known he had gone too far against nature with his radical ideas.” He staggered slightly and slid with a heavy awkwardness onto the bench across the table from Thomas.

  Thomas looked at Simeon, who was staring back at him with an intense but somewhat unfocused gaze, and felt pity. Here was a competent man, a man who was comfortable with responsibility but who was now being shoved aside into a secondary role after running Tyndal for years. Even though Thomas doubted the monk would lose his position as receiver or even sub-prior if the prioress found his account rolls acceptable, the prioress quite clearly intended to take back full charge of the priory. Simeon might have accepted such a change from a new prior, but never from someone he saw as an inferior.
It must all seem so unnatural to a man of Simeon’s cast of mind.

  “Indeed.” Thomas hesitated. “Forgive me for my bluntness, brother, but I cannot help but wonder that a man of your ability and stature ever entered the Fontevraud Order. Why not the Benedictines or the Cistercians?” Thomas glanced at his own, nearly full goblet and took a small sip.

  The corners of Simeon’s eyes grew moist. “I was the youngest of too many boys. My father was of good birth but had little land and could not afford a knight’s training for all of us.” He gulped some wine. “He held the Benedictines in contempt. Too corrupt, he said, and two of my brothers were already Cistercians. He needed to put me somewhere and Fontevraud is small but powerful.” He blinked, then wiped a hand across his mouth. “Told me I could at least be in the company of queens since I wasn’t suited for that of kings.” Two large tears slid from the inside corners of his eyes and dropped from his jaw onto the table.

  Thomas winced at the cruel implication of the remark but nodded sympathetically. He also knew better than to ask Simeon if the monk had felt even the slightest hint of a religious calling.

  “But he never would have put me here if he had thought a woman would so humiliate his son.” Simeon sat up in brief defiance. The goblet wavered near his mouth, and a tiny rivulet of red wine slipped down his chin, dribbling onto his robe. “He died almost two years ago,” he said in a whisper.

  “And you must grieve for his loss,” Thomas said, lowering his voice into concerned tones. “Surely your father must have loved you to have given you to such a powerful order.” He deliberately emphasized powerful.

  Simeon swayed, took another long gulp of wine, then reached over and put his hand over Thomas’, caressing it in silence. “He hated me, you know. I knew it. He called me fat, soft like a woman. Then one day he caught me with another boy.” Simeon ran his fingertips down Thomas’s arm. “We were doing nothing more than other boys often do when manhood arrives, but he mocked me and took my clothes, saying I could walk home naked so the world would see what a slut I was.”