“I have never heard of such a remedy.”
“It is as old as Jacob and the pharaohs,” Anne said. “My father had a recipe for the treatment, which I believe he had gotten from a physician who was very familiar with the work of Alexander of Tralles, and I memorized it as a girl. It is made from autumn crocus, a remedy that can be almost as deadly as monk’s hood, if not used properly, and therefore is infrequently applied. But I have used it to help some who suffer the affliction. The dosage requires adjustment for weight and balance of humors, but the sub-prioress is resident here, not a courtier who wants to leave quickly. I can take the time to carefully and slowly make the required modifications.”
“Why should she not try it? I have seen men who suffer from this. It often inflames feet until the person can no longer walk.” Eleanor grimaced. “Gout is a great affliction.”
“To quote our sub-prioress, she will not take ‘potions or powders devised by the Devil.’”
“Since when have you offered any remedy that was not a gift from God?” Eleanor shook her head in disgust at her subordinate’s obstinacy. “I would counsel her, but I fear she will not listen to me either.”
The nun smiled. “I did find a solution!”
Eleanor threw up her hands in mock amazement. “Our sub-prioress rarely listens to reason. How have you coped with her aversion to logic?”
“I spoke to Sister Christina. Our sub-prioress respects our sweet nun, as we all do, for her gentle saintliness. When I told her Sub-Prioress Ruth’s concern, our infirmarian said she would take the remedy and place it on the altar while she prayed. After that, she will take it to our sufferer, explain that it was been cleansed of all evil, and insist she take the blessed potion as instructed.” Anne’s expression softened. “Sister Christina has a wise heart as well as a kind one. She whispered in my ear that she would warn our sub-prioress about impatience. If God has blessed the cure, the patient must emulate the fortitude of Job.”
“Those who think Sister Christina is a saint may not be wrong,” Eleanor replied. Despite their differences in approach to healing, the two nuns had always worked together with mutual respect. In truth, having seen them consulting, the prioress concluded that two sisters from the same womb could not love each other more.
Of course Sister Anne prayed for the souls of those who came to her for a cure or relief, but she had been taught by her physician father that remedies were gifts from God for the comfort of men. Sister Christina might prefer prayer as a cure, and knew nothing of potions and powders, as Sub-Prioress Ruth called them, but she rejoiced when her sub-infirmarian used them with success and counted the cures as miracles.
“She might have been the better choice to care for Father Etienne’s clerk,” Anne said. “The priest was very angry when I arrived to diagnose the lad’s ailment, but he was even more annoyed when Brother Thomas argued for my involvement and with Prior Andrew’s next suggestion that Brother Thomas examine him.”
Eleanor started. “Why was our good brother there? Father Etienne specifically refused his help when he told me about young Jean. That is why I had to ask for a lay brother to go with you and not Brother Thomas.”
“I fear the error in bringing him with us was mine.” Anne bowed her head. “Prior Andrew, Gracia, and I met him on the way to the guest quarters. I was surprised you had not included him in our party so I asked him to come with us.” She looked at the shut door. “Poor Gracia knew the priest had refused to let him examine the clerk…”
“And she said nothing? Poor child! She probably believed it was not her right to contradict an adult.”
“It was not until later that Gracia confessed that she knew he was not supposed to be there. She was in tears over the matter, believing she could have prevented the rudeness suffered by us all.” Anne shook her head and smiled at Eleanor. “She is so much wiser than her years that I often forget she is still a child. I assured her that she owned no fault.”
“And I shall tell her again, for it was I who erred in not telling you more than I did.” She looked down at her hands. “When Gytha was not much older than she, I explained that I welcomed honesty, although I emphasized that it was usually wiser to speak to me that way in private. I shall repeat those words to Gracia and confirm that you are in agreement.”
Anne nodded. She knew how much her friend missed her former maid so was delighted when the young orphan arrived at Tyndal and began to fill the hole in the prioress’ heart.
“The priest’s restrictions made a diagnosis difficult,” the sub-infirmarian continued, “but Prior Andrew gave me enough information from the questions I asked and the observations he made. Growing weary of the awkward method, I suggested he confront Jean about the probable cause of his illness.”
“Which is?”
“Too much wine or ale the night before. The youth finally confessed it.”
“If Jean is wise, he will confess his sin to someone in this priory and not to his master. Our abbess’ brother seems to have little tolerance for weakness or opposition and much faith in the infallibility of his opinions. I fear he may find great fault with the youthful clerk where others might see the need for kind guidance.”
Sister Anne shook her head in sympathy. “What is the purpose of this visit? Has he told you why the abbess sent him?”
“No, but I hope to hear soon. If he has offered any clues, they would be in his welcoming sermons.”
“The brothers were told they owed obedience to righteous leaders. We were warned against incontinent lust. Prior Andrew, Brother Thomas, and I could find no hint in those sermons that related to our priory.”
Eleanor frowned. “Unless someone has suggested to Abbess Isabeau that my leadership is lax and someone is slipping over the walls to whore in the village.”
“No one here has a complaint against your rule.”
“Sub-Prioress Ruth?”
“She has never forgiven you for taking her place as prioress, but, as you have often noted, she obeys you, albeit with ill-grace.”
“Have you heard any rumors about any of our religious breaking their vows?”
Anne looked away. “None except me, my lady. But Brother John has become a hermit, and our meetings were never sinful before my husband left the priory for his hut.”
Allowing the pair to meet was a decision Eleanor often regretted, although she never doubted that the pair had remained chaste. “If that is the complaint, I shall have an answer for it and will do penance.” When her friend started to protest, Eleanor put a calming hand on her arm. “Fear not. I never questioned your virtue or that of your husband. If there was sin, it was in my judgement, not in your acts.”
The two fell silent.
Outside, birds sang to celebrate the last days of autumn warmth.
“If this visitation follows the usual practice for such things,” Eleanor said, “he will send out an army of clerks tomorrow to look for foul drains, cracked floor tiles, leaking roofs, and fruit carelessly left unplucked from the trees. Then he shall demand the accounting rolls to review for errors, irregular rent-gathering, the purchase of frivolous baubles, and other horrors expected in any religious house run by a woman.”
“How can he think that when his sister is Abbess Isabeau, the head of the Order of Fontevraud?”
“He must bow to Rome’s decision that our Order is not heretical, but I suspect he would have concluded otherwise had he been the one to decide.”
“He did tell Prior Andrew that he accepted a woman standing in the place of Our Lady as abbess and prioress in our Order, but all other sisters in this priory must obey the natural rule of men. I believe he does expect to find errors which would not exist if Tyndal were led by a prior.”
“He will be disappointed.” Eleanor shook her head. “I do not fear his review of the accounting rolls, and I know he will find maintenance needed on priory buildings. We have drawn up a list of repairs o
urselves, put into the order of importance. He may point these things out. I shall bow my head, thank him profusely, and swear an honest oath that I shall have Prior Andrew attend to these urgent matters.”
“You know what you must face. Why are you still worried? And do not deny it. I know your expressions well enough to read unease in them.”
“The abbess of Fontevraud would have ordered a visit not long after I was given leadership of this place if there had been concern that I was unable to turn the finances of Tyndal around. She did not. All know this was once a Benedictine priory, converted to a double house in the reign of King John. It is old. Repairs are constant. Unlike other houses, we have had no roof or wall collapse, nor have we begged funds for major repairs. When Prior Andrew last traveled to Anjou after Easter, he gave a full report of what we had done, how we planned to address the remaining issues, and a complete account of expenditures. Abbess Isabeau was satisfied, even complimentary.” Eleanor rubbed at her eyes as if longing to see more clearly.
“There is another purpose then.”
“And no one has told me what it is. That troubles me.”
“He must tell you.”
“And he shall, but I do not know what he will do before that. If he believes the priory is guilty of significant wrongdoing, he will not confer with me before he speaks to as many of our religious, choir, and lay, as he deems necessary. In his questioning, he may put my authority and competence in doubt, even if this priory is innocent of any accusations.”
“And who would cast such aspersions on the life we lead here?”
“Who knows what enemies we have made or what person of influence found a treatment, a bed, or a meal here to be unacceptable?”
“Surely this will be a small matter and quickly resolved without such damage,” Anne replied.
Eleanor walked over and gave her friend a hug. “And, God willing, we shall laugh about it after the dust from the hooves of his departing palfrey has settled.”
“In the meantime, I shall go back to my apothecary and prepare the remedy to calm the wine-battered stomach of the clerk, Jean.”
“If God is kind, and Jean heals quickly, our abbess’ brother may look upon the little faults in our priory with a more benevolent eye. Then we shall honor him with a feast of fish and vegetables from Sister Matilda’s kitchen before sending him back to Anjou.”
As she watched her friend depart, Prioress Eleanor’s brave words dissipated like a morning mist and she was filled again with a sharp dread of what might occur on the morrow.
Chapter Nine
Gracia carefully poured dark ale from a large pitcher into the small mazer held by Father Etienne. Not one errant drop dampened his robe.
He observed that, but his grim expression did not soften.
Catching her maid’s eye, Eleanor glanced at the platter of hard cheese and bright apples on the table.
Gracia replaced the pitcher and picked up the heavy platter. When she offered it to Davoir, he waved it away with a gesture commonly used to discourage flies.
Eleanor forced a smile, and then nodded discreetly at the table where her maid put the platter down. Now that the courtesy of offered refreshment was complete, Gracia went to the door and modestly cast her gaze to the rushes covering the stone floor. As inconspicuously as possible, she allowed herself a few glances to follow what was happening.
Savoring the drink, the priest pursed his lips, and then nodded. “Bitter but refreshing,” he noted. “I assume there is a purpose for the absence of wine and use of such humble cups?” He raised the small pewter mazer, but his tone suggested curiosity rather than criticism.
“We have wine for the church and the sick,” Eleanor replied. “As for the cups and platters, we only use gold and silver to honor God. Man may do with less.” She tilted her head, her lips twitching into a brief smile.
“And I agree. Like all men, vowed to God, I have turned aside from the glitter of worldly things.”
Without thinking, Eleanor looked at the jewel in his ring, then forced herself to look away as if distracted by the passing cloud that cast a brief shadow in the chambers. To be fair, she thought, the cross around his neck is simple, his robe is plain, and he wears no other adornment.
He waited, then continued. “What shall you do if King Edward visits?”
“Kings are anointed with holy oil, blessed on God’s altar. For our king, we would provide a finer chalice, not for the mortal man, but to honor the One who blessed him and granted him the privilege and responsibility of justly ruling a Christian nation.”
“My sister told me that you would be clever.”
She did not feel clever, and this wordplay was meaningless. Eleanor grew impatient, for she feared that moment would be like the lowering of the hangman’s noose over her head. She wished Brother Thomas was here with his calming manner, but Ralf had asked him to visit Gytha and hear her confession. Then, with a mix of dread and relief, she realized that Davoir shared her lack of interest in merry verbal games.
His smile fading, the priest cleared his throat. “My clerks found your accounting rolls to be in excellent order. The entries are done promptly and with adequate detail. They also found no payment for any item deemed inappropriate for a monastic house.”
She bit her lip. What did he expect to find? Entries for the cost of falcons? The purchase of arrows so the monks might hunt between the Offices? There were no high-born bishops or abbots here who brought their hawks and falcons to the steps of the altar while they prayed. Some priories and abbeys might allow these luxurious pleasures, but she would never permit them in her priory.
“Abbess Isabeau heard that you had turned the sad state of this priory’s assets into a profitable condition after your arrival. She will be pleased to know the tale has been confirmed.”
A situation the abbess had learned some time ago after Prior Andrew’s visits to the abbey with complete accounts, Eleanor thought, but murmured gratitude for the intended compliment. At least this investigation was not ordered because of some rumor of financial wrongdoing.
“As for the state of the priory buildings, walls, mill, fish ponds, orchards and gardens, I have some questions and a few deficiencies for you to address. Amongst those who accompanied me on this journey is a man who was a stonemason before God called him to a higher craft. I set him to examine the buildings.”
Gesturing to Gracia, the prioress indicated that she wished a certain document brought to her. Unrolling it, she waited for him to list his findings.
“There is an unsightly growth of dank moss in the window over the altar in the chapel. It dims the light coming into that place of worship.”
“The moss has been deliberately left to remind us that the human spirit must always strive to see the light in the darkness of earthly sin.”
Even if he did not acknowledge appreciation of her purpose in words, Davoir’s eyes brightened before he went to the next item. “The stones in the wall near the mill gate are loose.”
She looked down at her document. “We plan to repair that in late spring. If we did so now, we might have to mend it again after the snows. When the lay brother examined the wall, he found it strong enough to last one more winter.”
He mentioned two more items for which she had also planned work. Again he smiled. “Well done. As for the bee skeps, gardens, and orchards, your lay brothers and sisters have tended them with skill. Since these are things for which I have a particular fondness, I chose to examine that aspect of your priory myself.”
“Then I am especially honored that you found no neglect.” Trying to keep her hands steady, she rolled up her document and gave it back to Gracia for safekeeping.
“I also noted that you seem to adhere to the Rule in matters of diet, silence, Offices, and attire.”
“Our nuns, barring needs of family or other assigned duties to God, spend their days in praye
r. Our anchoress, Juliana, is known for her pious advice to those who seek it. Our hospital offers spiritual comfort for the dying and cures for those whom God does not yet call…”
He waved his hand to interrupt. “I found no defect in these matters.”
“Yet I hear a note of concern in your voice. In what have you found a fault?”
“Your infirmarian is a pious woman and helps the dying turn their thoughts to Heaven with her prayers. As for Sister Anne, I found a lack of humility in her as well as an unwillingness to be directed by those wiser than she.” He looked at his mazer.
In an instant, Gracia was at his side and refilled it.
“I am troubled that you have no monk or even lay brother with sufficient training to determine the necessary treatments and potions. While a woman’s bodily imperfections are simple and her frailties may be easily understood, the physical ills of God’s more intricate creations, Adam’s sons, are beyond the comprehension of a woman.”
“Since Sister Anne has performed many noteworthy cures, witnessed by physicians and priests alike, I must conclude that God guides her hand.” She bowed her head. “How else may we explain this daughter of Eve owning the skills of Adam’s sons?” Before he interrupted her, she went on. “But perhaps your investigating clerk did not realize that Brother Thomas has some skill in these matters. He often takes remedies to the village for those who cannot travel to the hospital to receive them.” She omitted any mention that the sub-infirmarian made the cures and had done the monk’s training.
“Her treatment of my clerk has not been successful. Perhaps God chose this time while I was here to demonstrate His displeasure with her.”
Eleanor flushed with outrage. If Sister Anne had improperly diagnosed the clerk, she did so because of the priest’s interference. “May I suggest that she and Brother Thomas be allowed to examine the young man together? Prior Andrew is not an apothecary. His skills lie in other areas, such as administering our lands and rents, which you found capably executed.”
He stiffened. “I find your stubborn insistence in this matter unseemly, despite my clear objection, and I reject your renewed suggestion. Although I would have preferred to reveal the purpose of my investigation in a gentler manner, you now force me to be blunt. This visit was not something my sister wished to order, nor did she want to send me away from court at the very time when I might be offered a bishop’s miter.”
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