Sanctity of Hate

by Priscilla Royal

  Anne nodded. “Had it not been forbidden, he would have kissed the new mother in gratitude for the gift she gave him.”

  “I did not understand why he kept such a distance,” Gytha said.

  “The tenets of his faith forbade him to touch her after the birthing,” the nun replied and quickly turned to the prioress.

  “How fares Mistress Belia?” Eleanor’s question showed concern for the young woman, but her troubled look was directed toward her maid.

  “She suffered more than most, and it is a miracle that both she and the child survived.” Anne shook her head. “All danger has not yet passed. I pray she will continue to gather strength as she is now. After the difficulties of this birth, it is likely she will never bear another child. At least her bleeding stopped, and the afterbirth was soon expelled. Of course she had chills but that is normal.”

  “I am grateful to you both,” the prioress said, “as the family must be as well.”

  “My efforts were petty, but Mistress Signy assisted most,” Gytha said. She had drunk only a little of her wine before she set the mazer back on the table.

  “Indeed!” Eleanor’s smile suggested this was not a surprise.

  “I had only asked her to warm a bath for Mistress Belia, before the contractions grew too frequent, and she made sure the required herbs were well-infused. But later she insisted on helping to support the mother and massage her back. As she explained to me, she might not have birthed a child but she was still a daughter of Eve like us all.”

  “Our innkeeper is a good woman,” Eleanor said. “I have known few others who understand the meaning of charity so well.”

  “Where is Brother Thomas?” the sub-infirmarian asked. “He accompanied us back from the inn, but I have not seen him at the hospital.”

  “He has gone to seek Brother Gwydo. Prior Andrew has not seen our lay brother since yesterday but assumes the bees had kept him from the Offices. I must ask him some questions about Kenelm’s murder.”

  Gytha paled.

  Anne, who had seen the same response, glanced at the prioress. “If you will permit me, I should return to the hospital,” she said. “If I am needed again by Mistress Belia…”

  “You must go to her at once.”

  Smiling, the nun departed.

  Eleanor laid a gentle hand on her maid’s shoulder. “Stay with me, my child. We must talk.”

  “I have feared this,” Gytha whispered.

  Although she would have preferred to embrace the young woman and offer comfort, Eleanor believed she must put a formal distance between them if she were to seek truth without bias. As she sat in her carved chair and indicated that her maid must stand before her, she felt cruel and hated it. Only rarely had she insisted on such formality between them.

  The young woman covered her eyes. “I have sinned, my lady. I have been so wicked that I contaminate all within the priory. Indeed, I have dishonored you by failing to confess what I have done and should have left your service…”

  “You shall not leave my side until you marry,” Eleanor replied, then gestured at the abandoned mazer on the table. Her resolve to remain stern was already faltering. “Drink that for strength while you tell me what happened the night you returned from visiting Tostig. After all the years you have served me, and the love I bear you, do you think I would listen without compassion? What occurred between you two?” She deliberately left half of the pair unnamed.

  “You have suspected the truth?” Shock briefly drifted across Gytha’s face, then dissipated. “I should never have doubted it. Anytime in the past, when I wished to hide something from you, I knew I would fail and therefore admitted all. This time, however…” Her voice failed and she looked away.

  “Bring that stool and sit beside me, my child,” Eleanor sighed, unable to restrain her feelings any longer. “I must hear the tale from you.” Although she doubted that her maid had lain with Gwydo, she found herself wishing that they had. That transgression was arguably within her authority to judge and order penance. But something whispered in her ear that Kenelm’s murder must be involved. The man’s death and Adelard’s tale of the coupling were too coincidental in time and place.

  Gytha took a deep breath, looked down at the wine, and swallowed half of it. “After I left my brother, I stopped to visit with Signy and then came back to the priory. Kenelm followed me, but I did not notice him until I was close by the mill gate. He grabbed my arm and forced a kiss.” She shuddered.

  The prioress let silence take on the weight of her growing apprehension.

  “When I struggled, he clasped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into the forest.”

  “You feared rape.”

  “With cause, my lady. Just off the road, I tripped. He fell on me and tried to thrust himself between my legs.” She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. “God heard my prayers. I found a stone with which I struck his head with all my strength. Then I was able to pull myself away.”

  “He did not…”

  “I remained a virgin but at a deadly price.”

  Eleanor reached out and touched her maid’s cheek with sympathy. All this had happened in the forest, she realized. Kenelm had not been on priory grounds.

  “He lay still and his head was bleeding,” Gytha continued, “but I was terrified, both of him and what I had done. All reason fled, and I ran deeper into the forest. Then I fell down the embankment. I must have struck my head, for I remember nothing more until I awoke.”

  “Do you know how long you were senseless?”

  “Nay, but when I recovered, Brother Gwydo was kneeling next to me.”

  “What did he do or say?” The prioress studied Gytha’s face for signs of unease but saw none. Had Adelard witnessed just this, his overheated imagination might have concluded they had lain together. Or could he have seen Kenelm wrestling with the maid on the ground instead and, seeing Gwydo a short time later, assumed the two men were one?

  Eleanor was perplexed. There was no reason for the baker’s son to conclude it was Gwydo he had seen when it was Kenelm. If there was light enough to see anything, the youth could have told the difference between the short but stocky former soldier and the tall, broad-shouldered stranger.

  “Nothing dishonorable, my lady.” Gytha flushed. “He asked if I could stand and assisted me when I struggled. Then he led me to the mill gate.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I think he asked if I could go the rest of the way by myself but I am not sure. I cannot recollect, but I was alone by the time I climbed the stairs to your chambers.”

  “You said nothing of this to anyone before now.”

  “I did not. The hour was late. You had gone to bed. I lay down and tried to sleep. The memory of all that happened was both too vivid and too much like a dream. I neither had the courage to speak of it, nor did I know how to do so. Then Kenelm’s body was found…”

  Not in the forest but in our mill pond, the prioress added to herself. “When Brother Gwydo took you to the priory gate, did you remember if you passed by the spot where Kenelm lay?”

  Gytha shook her head.

  “Did you tell our lay brother what had happened to you?”

  “I doubt it, my lady, for I was ashamed, but I cannot recall.”

  And where might the lay brother have been going that would have precluded him from taking her to the hospital or otherwise seeking care? Perhaps he had seen Kenelm attack Gytha and witnessed her flight into the forest. That would excuse his departure from priory grounds if he sought to help her. It would not explain why he had failed to make sure Sister Anne examined her.

  “I killed Kenelm, my lady!”

  “Yet his body was found in the mill pond, not in the forest where you left him. You must be honest with me, for I shall do all I can to help. Did you and Brother Gwydo drag his body into our priory
grounds and push it into the stream?”

  Gytha put her hands over her face, fighting to recover her memory. Then she shook her head. “All I recall is walking through the gate, then nothing more until I was climbing the stairs to your chambers. I cannot swear an oath that we did not do such a thing; neither can I say we did.”

  “You do not remember seeing Kenelm again?”

  “I can recollect nothing about him at all after I fell down the bank.”

  “Do you recall whether Brother Gwydo followed you back into the priory?”

  Gytha hesitated, then suddenly looked horrified. “Might he have seen Kenelm lying on me, witnessed the killing, and tried to hide my sins by throwing the corpse into the mill pond?”

  Eleanor leaned back in her chair. He might have done so. She would question him about it as well as the reason he was outside the priory. Although she could not completely dismiss the possibility that her maid had killed Kenelm with the blow to the head, Anne had not believed the wound to be fatal. In any case, she did not think Gytha was lying to her, nor did she think the maid had deliberately left anything out of her tale.

  One crucial question remained unanswered: who had slit the man’s throat and why? Gytha had not mentioned this detail, and Eleanor knew the evidence suggested that Kenelm had suffered the certain fatal wound after the blow to his head.

  “My lady?”

  “Forgive me. I do not know if the lay brother did as you suggested. When Brother Thomas brings him to me, I shall question him about this.”

  Gytha looked away. “I regret any sorrow I have brought on him. He was kind to me when I needed aid, and no one here has ever spoken ill of him.”

  “I shall not forget his gentler nature. Should any rebuke be required, it will be for something he took upon himself.”

  “But surely you cannot keep me in your service if I killed a man, my lady.” The maid’s face was pale, but she stiffened with resolve. “I will accept the punishment I am due.”

  “Of course, you will continue to serve me. You struck a man who did violence against you. For that, I find no fault that cannot be cleansed through confession. Yet I must still summon Crowner Ralf.” She bent forward and took Gytha’s hand in hers. “You are obliged to tell him your tale as well, my child, but we both know him to be a just man.”

  What she omitted saying was that the king might not find reason for clemency if Gytha were judged guilty of Kenelm’s death, even if she protested that the deed was committed to protect her virtue. Other than the possibility of Brother Gwydo, there were no witnesses who could confirm the truth of her allegation. If asked, Adelard would say he had seen the maid and lay brother together and swear he had observed sinful pleasure. That would destroy Gytha’s claim to chastity and any statement by Brother Gwydo. The only hope was that the one who slit Kenelm’s throat could be found.

  Although the maid was not under the Church’s authority, the prioress decided she would beg the king’s leniency should Gytha be found guilty of murder. King Edward would set a price for such mercy, and Eleanor now swore a silent oath to pay it.

  Gytha nodded and fell silent. Her expression spoke of both grief and resignation.

  19

  Eleanor watched her maid and the crowner look away from each other. Had she not already concluded that the love between them had grown to the point of imminent confession, she would have known it now. Sadly, this encounter would be a far less joyful moment. She grieved for the pain both must be enduring.

  Ralf cleared his throat. “I must speak with Mistress Gytha alone, my lady.”

  Gytha turned to look at the prioress, her eyes begging for the mercy of Eleanor’s company.

  The prioress nodded with an equal measure of reluctance and firmness. “I know you must, crowner. But I shall remain in my private chamber, with the door left open for propriety. There is no one else who could be spared to attend this interview, the details of which we all pray shall remain private.” A lie, of course, and surely he knew it, but after all these years of friendship, she had learned to read his face well. He did not want her completely absent, any more than Gytha did, and none of them wanted to chance disclosure by another about what would be spoken here.

  As expected, he muttered concurrence.

  Folding her hands into her sleeves, she looked up at Ralf, her expression stern. “No matter what you resolve to do after hearing what Mistress Gytha has to say, be advised that I shall defend her with every means at my disposal.”

  “I would expect no less, my lady.” Ralf’s demeanor was formal, but his voice shook.

  “Nor shall you take her from this priory. I give you my sacred oath that she will arrive when summoned for trial, if such be needed, but I will not have her dishonored by confinement in some foul prison cell.”

  “Were it necessary to place Mistress Gytha under arrest, I myself would beg you for that mercy you have just offered.”

  “Then I shall go to my chambers.” As she passed by her maid, the prioress stopped and drew the young woman into her arms. “I believe you to be innocent of any crime,” she murmured, “and Crowner Ralf will surely concur. He must do his duty, my child, but do not think he takes any pleasure in this.”

  Gytha held onto Eleanor for a long moment and then drew back, raising her chin with proud determination.

  “Be honest with him. There may be something in what you recall that will give him a detail needed to capture the one who did kill Kenelm.” Quickly, she kissed her maid’s cheek and blessed her. “Have courage!”

  Gytha watched the prioress walk from the room, then turned to face the crowner, her expression like that of a woman irrevocably facing her executioner, alone and struggling to retain her dignity.

  “Mistress Gytha, I must ask you to repeat all you have told Prioress Eleanor.”

  Pale, but voice firm, she did.

  Ralf did not once interrupt, but his face turned red and his eyes narrowed. When Gytha had finished, he turned his back on her and strode to the window.

  Gytha waited, then trembled with growing anxiety.

  He ground his fist into the stones of the wall. “If Kenelm raped you…”

  “I remain a virgin.” Her voice cracked. “On that matter, I give you my oath.”

  “But he forced himself on you! Kenelm was strong, a large man. How could you have had time to strike him with the rock before he…?”

  “I did, but I did not mean to kill him. I only wanted to save my honor.”

  “A fine hope!” He spun around and shouted: “But I cannot believe you stopped him in time.”

  Gytha’s eyes widened.

  “He deserved to die for destroying your chastity!”

  “He succeeded only in bruising and frightening me.” Confusion mixed with anger sharpened her tone. “Do not make a mockery of my plight. My sin is a killing that I swear was never intended. Why shout so about a loss that did not occur?”

  He shook his head.

  Gytha’s face turned scarlet. “Oh, now I see what you are about, my lord. You have decided my guilt. My oath is without merit because I am a woman, and you grieve that Tostig’s sister must now be called a whore!”

  “I can defend you against the murder,” he replied, “but you cannot recover…” The crowner covered his eyes.

  Anger flashed from hers.

  He opened his hands to plead with her. “How can I believe that Kenelm did not violate you? It is against all logic.”

  She stepped back from him. “For all your flaws, my lord, I have always called you a just man. Sadly, I find that you are no different from any other, all of whom believe women are besotted with lust. Perhaps you have also concluded that I seduced Kenelm, then struck him so he would not tell how I forced him to couple with me?”

  “I do not…”

  “In trut
h,” she shouted, “do not all men demand that their wives bloody the nuptial sheet while they mount other women without a thought to any consequences? And should a man shatter a woman’s virginity without her consent, you, like any son of Adam, cast the woman aside, claiming that the rapist erred only in failing to pray hard enough for the strength to resist her wiles.”

  “Gytha!” He slammed his fist against the wooden table and howled with pain.

  “Enough!” Eleanor strode into the room. “This woman has been as loyal to me and shown as much love as any who shared my mother’s womb. For that, I respect the truth of her words and shall shield her against all who dare to point condemning fingers.” She glared at Ralf. “And you? You have known her since she was a child and call her brother your closest friend. Surely you owe her even greater loyalty than I, crowner.” Walking over to Gytha, she pulled her close to her side. “This interrogation has ended.”

  The crowner nodded and looked away.

  “Leave us, my child,” Eleanor said. “He has heard your story, and we have agreed that you shall remain here no matter what he concludes. Seek peace in the cloister garth until I come for you.” Shooting a barbed look at Ralf, she added, “I must speak with this man a brief moment longer.”

  Her eyes moist with repressed grief, Gytha fled the chambers, slamming the door behind her.

  Eleanor was now alone with a man, against all rules. For once, she was too angry to care. “You should be ashamed, Ralf. I would not have urged her to speak with you had I known you would have treated her with such disregard. You have betrayed my trust.”

  He fell to his knees in front of her.

  “Oh, stand up,” she said and turned to the table. Pouring two cups of wine, she pushed one into the crowner’s hand.

  He drained the cup.

  She poured him more. “You, as well as I, love Gytha, yet you have deeply wounded her. My trust may have been betrayed, but your brutal words to her are the greater sin. How dare you doubt her honor and accuse her of lying when she swore she had not been raped. That was more than cruel. That was the act of one in whom God had failed to place a heart.”