A Killing Season mm-8

by Priscilla Royal

  Margaret reached up and grasped his hand. “A wife must ever obey her lord husband, for so the Church commands. Yet is it not also our duty to serve as needed?” She glanced back at Brother Thomas.

  He nodded, his eyes sad with understanding.

  For a moment, she caressed her husband’s hand, then realized he did not feel her touch. Gently, she tugged at him.

  He opened his eyes and gazed at his wife. Horrified, he tried to draw his hand away, but his will lacked strength.

  Clinging to her husband, Margaret smiled. “I obediently vowed myself to you at the church door, but my heart soon learned to rejoice in its duty. Now I renew that vow given in our first marriage hour. From this day until our spirits go to God, I shall never leave your side. If God wills that I remain free of this contagion, I shall tend you until He demands your soul. If I join you in this affliction, we shall endure it together and do so with joy, not sorrow. Godly men proclaim that a leper’s earthly travail shortens the time his soul must spend in Purgatory. If that is true, I shall rejoice in whatever misery we must endure together.”

  The baron began to protest, trying again to loosen her hold.

  She gripped harder. “Forgive me, my lord, for my unwomanly rebellion against your will. Although your wish to abandon me is meant kindly, I have suffered too many years alone after you took the cross. I am a woman, frail and lacking a man’s stomach in the face of troubles. I truly need your strength to continue in this world. Does God condemn women who perform their duties with love? I think not and beg you to allow me the right to carry out this service.”

  He may not have felt her tender touch on his hands, yet Herbert’s face revealed that he felt the gentleness in his heart. He raised her to her feet, then looked in the general direction of the physician, his eyes pleading once more for a reprieve from the torment of his deadly illness.

  Gamel wiped the tears from his cheeks and chose to address the wife instead. “My lady, I will offer you one hope. Your husband does not exhibit enough signs of the affliction to be certain he has the disease.”

  “There must be some cure…”

  “There are as many treatments as there are physicians. A few claim success with castration which cools the body. Others praise potions of honey mixed with rosemary or cumin and drunk with wine. More use cupping or bleeding.” Gamel looked over at Sister Anne. “I have found nothing of man’s creation that heals leprosy, my lady. Instead, I advise your husband to seek a cure at the shrine of St. Thomas at Canterbury, well-known for many miracles. Lepers bathed in water blessed with a drop of the martyr’s blood have been spontaneously cleansed.”

  “Hope,” the lady murmured.

  “Until such time as the true nature of his condition is revealed, I have promised your husband that I will remain by his side.” He turned his head away from the sub-infirmarian. “I shall inform my son of my continued absence from London. My own need for pilgrimage is great, suffering as I do from so many sins. St. Thomas shows much kindness to the penitent.”

  Margaret’s eyes brightened as she looked up at the baron. “In that case, my lord, we must swiftly arrange a marriage for Umfrey, your heir. While we undertake this healing pilgrimage in search of God’s mercy, he shall act in your stead here. A good helpmeet will give him the comfort he needs in that endeavor.”

  Herbert winced as if the thought of Umfrey as heir struck him like a dagger blow. “He is not capable…” Looking down at his wife, he fell silent.

  Margaret continued gazing upon her husband with unblinking joy.

  Thomas stepped forward. “May I have leave to speak on behalf of your two sons, my lord?”

  The baron nodded permission, his eyes never leaving his wife’s face.

  “Although bound to honor your will with filial obedience, Umfrey begs to be released from worldly duty. In penance for his sins, he longs to serve God for the remainder of his life and to renounce his right of inheritance in favor of Raoul. Were he able, he would come before you and swear that the miracle of his survival is proof that God demands his service, a command he would obey. He asked me to kneel on his behalf and beg you to grant his plea.” The monk got down on his knees.

  Herbert blinked in surprise. “What does Raoul say of this?”

  “Your youngest son humbly adds his supplication to that of his brother, saying that he dare not ignore God’s clear intent, although he will honor your decision in this matter.” Thomas gestured toward the physician. “I must add one detail in support of Umfrey’s belief that God saved him for His service. Master Gamel concludes that the cross Raoul brought to comfort his elder brother diverted the knife blow.”

  Gamel swiftly concurred.

  “Should you grant your heir’s entreaty, Raoul vows to build a hermitage on this island where Umfrey may live out his life in solitary prayer. In this way, the brothers shall not be parted. Each man swears to perform his new responsibilities with honor and courage.” Thomas rose and stepped back.

  “Grant Umfrey’s plea, my lord!” Lady Margaret placed one hand on her heart.

  For the first time since his return from Acre, Baron Herbert smiled with happiness. Then he gave his consent.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  There was a hint of sweetness in the wind, although it was chill against the skin like the touch of a fall apple picked on a frosty morning. The sea below murmured softly, a sound sailors called mermaid lullabies.

  As Sir Hugh of Wynethorpe’s company rode over the narrow isthmus between castle and mainland, Prioress Eleanor took advantage of the cautious pace and glanced down at the jagged rocks which had slain Sir Leonel ahead of the king’s hangman. She felt an ache of sadness, wished that she had not, and then wondered if God had also grieved when His most beautiful angel tumbled into Hell’s pit.

  Perhaps my fault lies not in mourning the loss, she thought, but rather in succumbing to the sorcery of a fair demeanor. And that the baron’s nephew had most certainly possessed, in measure equal to what he lacked in honorable intent. She was not often fooled by fine words and a pleasing face, but Eleanor knew lust had blinded her. Forcing herself to look away from the precipice, she prayed that her sorrow over his death would prove as shallow as the nature of the man.

  Near the cliff at the edge of the forest, the travelers paused until all had crossed and gathered closely together for safety. Looking up at the trees, Eleanor watched the damp, crooked branches shimmer in the rays of winter light that burst through gaps in the broken clouds. “Have I dreamt all that happened?” the prioress said aloud, delighting at the sight of this more tranquil land.

  Sister Anne looked around and edged her mount closer to her prioress’ side. “If only that were true.” Her murmured words splintered into white mist.

  Together, the women turned to gaze back at Baron Herbert’s stronghold.

  A morning haze wafted around the towers of Doux et Dur as if it were a light veil swirled by a woman’s hand. Nearer the ground, thick fog hid the dark foundation stones with a magic cloak. Like an image in a dream or vision, the fortress appeared to float above the island.

  The friends looked back at each other in wonder. Had they not just left the gates, they might have concluded that the place was home to a mocking and devious spirit. Most others would surely think the place ill-omened. Shivering, they turned away from the sight and sought comfort in fellow mortals.

  Seeing her brother at the head of the armed guard, Eleanor raised her hand in greeting.

  He waved back, then ordered the party forward along the road through the forest.

  The company was eager to travel on.

  This segment of the journey would be the most dangerous. Outlaws hid in the dense woodlands and fed on the purses of travelers who were not so well-protected by armed men as this prioress and her high-born brother. Nonetheless, those who assumed that numbers and good swordsmanship were adequate protection often fell prey to the onslaught of desperate men. Sir Hugh made sure that his soldiers remained as alert as dogs in
the hunt.

  For Eleanor, however, the most perilous part was over. She was going home. As the company entered the dense forest, she found comfort in the heavy evergreen boughs overhead and thick greenery encroaching on the road. All this was God’s creation. Compared to the evil she had striven against in the baron’s castle, this otherwise forbidding woodland was reassuring.

  She sighed, then turned to seek her friend who was riding nearby.

  A rare flush of color rose to Anne’s cheeks, and she quickly bent down to touch something on the neck of her mount.

  “Shall you confess to Brother Thomas?” Eleanor softened her words with understanding, knowing well where her friend’s thoughts had drifted. “His heart is as gentle as his eyes are sharp. He will not be troubled by your admission regarding Master Gamel,” she said. “I think he saw what was growing between you and the good physician early in the journey here.”

  “I sinned, my lady.”

  “Not in the flesh.”

  “Is the heart not flesh? Do the eyes not offend? Our bodies may not have committed any transgression, yet our thoughts did.” Anne’s cheeks began to glisten in the sunlight. “Does a woman ever forget a man’s loving touch once she has been pleasured in bed?” She covered her eyes with one hand.

  “Soft, my friend, soft.” Eleanor could only sooth with words, although she longed to take the woman into her arms and let her weep. “Had your husband died and you not sworn yourself to God’s service, Master Gamel would have found a loving wife in you and rejoiced in the happiness you gave him. There is no sin in knowing that, only in seizing what cannot be.”

  “I may have entered the religious life with little longing for it, but I have tried to honor my vows and serve God well. Indeed, I found comfort and purpose at Tyndal. Had I stayed in the world, I would have remained alone, banned from remarriage after my husband took his own vows.”

  “And you have served Him with honor,” Eleanor replied.

  For a long while, they rode in a silence broken only by the clop of hooves and the nickering of horses.

  “Brother John and I never see each other now,” Anne said. “He grew too fearful of committing a grave sin because we spoke together.”

  The prioress nodded, wondering what solace she could offer her friend. As she had learned soon after arriving at Tyndal, the pair met on occasion, their encounters as chaste as expected between a couple converted from husband and wife to brother and sister on taking monastic vows. For the innocent comfort it gave them, the prioress had never forbidden the brief meetings, although she knew many would condemn her leniency.

  Now Brother John had finally severed this last tie to the secular world he had eagerly fled. She should not be surprised, considering his increasing asceticism. Were he to beg permission to become an anchorite, she would understand.

  But this decision to utterly abandon his wife, who had taken vows at Tyndal only because she could not bear to lose him completely, had robbed Anne of the last comfort to which she had clung for strength. Since she had never cast the world aside in her heart, Eleanor knew its joys still beckoned to her.

  Fortunately, Master Gamel was a good man who would never have lured the nun to sin, even if he had wished he could wake up by Anne’s side for the rest of their lives. Nonetheless, the situation could have ended with a tragic difference. How much of Anne’s suffering was her fault, Eleanor asked herself. Lust had tainted her own reason for too long and most significantly on this journey. She cringed at how much she had let this friend down, a woman who had never failed her.

  She looked up. The first person she saw was Brother Thomas, riding by himself a short distance ahead of her.

  The sight of the monk brought her both warmth and comfort. For once her longing to hold him had nothing to do with desire but all to do with gratitude. He had saved her brother’s life, brought peace to a dying man, and pulled her out of her soul’s darkness.

  She had never told Sister Anne of her desire for the monk, but her own feelings informed her compassion for the sub-infirmarian. They both loved men who had rejected the joys of the marriage bed, and, if she suffered lust-filled dreams despite her chosen vocation, Anne must suffer greater agony having taken vows in sorrow, not joy. Was there a way to peace for them both?

  Suddenly a thought struck her, the needed gift of insight. Surely God had been teaching all of them lessons during this visit. As she pondered this, she grew both hopeful and relieved.

  Recalling all that had happened during the time with Baron Herbert and his family, however, she shuddered. Now that she had escaped, the feeling that they had each been put under a spell grew stronger. Lessons there might have been for them all, but what a price every one had paid.

  Her brother and Lady Margaret had almost committed an adultery neither of them wished for. Brother Thomas had fought with Sir Hugh, then saved his life with another act of violence when he cast a stone at Sir Leonel. Neither act was acceptable for a monk; neither was even likely for one as gentle as he. What, she wondered, had been the lesson for her monk and brother? Perhaps she understood best what Lady Margaret had learned, for she had seen her walk to her husband’s side and swear to remain there until death.

  In her case, her feelings for Leonel were just blinding lust. Her heart did not grieve over his death, only her body. Were Brother Thomas to die, she would mourn until God deigned to take her soul as well. Her longing to couple with the monk might be wicked, but there was a grain of purity in her love as well. How else explain why they worked so effectively together in rendering God’s justice? Somehow she must cling to the virtue of that love while rejecting the forbidden.

  And what was her sub-infirmarian’s lesson? Perhaps it was the knowledge that she must seek strength in a different kind of love.

  When Brother John cut the last bond to his earthly wife, Anne was forced to let go her hold on him. Like Master Gamel, the nun had long clung to a dead spouse. In Anne’s case, the spouse was dead only to the secular world. When she and the physician met, they each discovered that they could find another love in this life.

  Eleanor was sure that Master Gamel would remarry one day. As for Sister Anne, she must finally make peace with her husband’s choice to leave her for God, but what path she would take was unknown. There were dangers.

  Perhaps I did err in letting Brother John and Sister Anne continue to meet, the prioress thought. Had I forbidden it, she might have stepped away earlier with less pain than she suffers now. In any case, I must take very tender care of her. Not only is she my friend, she is still vowed to God’s service.

  Sister Anne said something.

  Eleanor asked her to repeat it.

  “I shall ponder much that happened here, but there is one incident I do not understand. Why did Sir Leonel ride back to the castle after leaving the cove? He would have found safety on the continent.”

  “There are two conclusions I might make. The man had left Brother Thomas and my brother with the wounded Raoul. The tide was rising swiftly. There was only one horse. Raoul would surely drown. If Hugh and our monk fought over the horse, or had hesitated too long over saving the baron’s son, both might have been caught by the sea as well. From Sir Leonel’s reasoning, that was likely, and he would be the only witness to what had happened in the cave. Rest assured, he would have told the tale to his benefit.”

  “And the baron would have believed him instead of you?”

  Eleanor smiled. “His nephew had manipulated the truth for many years. He surely thought his skill would be a match for anything I might claim.”

  “Then he misjudged your persuasive arguments, as proven by the baron’s swift action in sending the soldiers after you spoke with him,” Anne replied. “There was a second possibility?”

  “Men are wicked, but they are still made in God’s image. Although Sir Leonel plotted against his cousins, his uncle was the only father he had truly known. I would not discount the possibility that he returned to the castle, in part, because he wanted
to hear Baron Herbert proclaim him his son as well as heir. Call it a tainted love, but I suspect the nephew did love the man who had taken him into his heart.”

  “So much wickedness occurred in that place. I am grateful to escape it.”

  “In that I join you, for I sinned enough there myself.”

  “Will you also seek Brother Thomas for confession? He knows the circumstances so well.”

  “I shall speak with Brother John,” the prioress said.

  “I may not.” The words were sharp-edged. Anne flushed, then continued more gently. “He has always had a wise heart. You will be guided well by him.”

  “Yet you would be right to seek counsel from Brother Thomas. God understands we are weak creatures but gives courage when the right path is chosen. Had you and Master Gamel been less virtuous, Satan would have triumphed. That he most certainly did not. When you speak with Brother Thomas, he will bring you even more comfort in this matter than I.”

  Sister Anne stretched out her hand, and Eleanor briefly squeezed it. Smiling at each other, they wordlessly conveyed the understanding born of friendship.

  As the company emerged from the forest and joined the better traveled highway leading back to Tyndal, the sun cast aside the veil of clouds and shone down with all the warmth possible in that dark season.

  Someone in the company began to sing an old ballad.

  Another joined him.

  The journey home promised to be a joyful one.

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