said.
“Then let us leave and give back this room to the innkeeper. If the corpse has surrendered all the secrets he ever shall, methinks it is time enough to send the cooper to his grave.”
“I will not argue that!” the crowner said, then swung open the door and immediately took in a deep breath of fresh air.
Chapter Ten
Had she been unwise to volunteer help in this matter of murder, Eleanor asked herself as she hurried along the path to Sister Juliana’s anchorage. Did she not have problems enough of her own, especially with Sister Ruth’s ongoing complaints about the anchoress? As for the revelations about Brother Thomas, she was still unable to force her mind firmly to the dilemma with full reason intact.
She quickly exiled that second thought before tears as traitorous as her monk once again breached the weakened walls of her resolve. The cooper’s murder was easier to contemplate.
Most would argue that this crime was no concern of those enclosed behind monastic walls. They might well be right, but if honest men saw Satan strutting amongst them because of this misdeed, then surely the religious of Tyndal were duty bound to help send him back to Hell.
Besides, Ralf had asked for her aid. Not only was he crowner but he was also her friend, a king’s man who always honored her authority at the priory and had helped her two years ago when she had needed a favor, one that might have caused the crowner much grief had his brother, the sheriff, ever learned of it. She owed him something in return. The least she could do was interview two women.
“A simple enough thing to accomplish compared to what I must do now,” the prioress sighed as she approached the anchorage door. There were times she wished she had never agreed to the admission of Sister Juliana as anchoress at Tyndal. Today was one of them.
The lay sister who had most recently, and even more reluctantly, agreed to serve Tyndal’s recluse stood next to the anchorage entrance. The firmly bolted door was very thick, a precaution suggested by the bishop who had performed the entombing ceremony. Some women had chipped their way out, he said, when this austere life had begun to drive them mad.
Eleanor nodded to the lay sister.
“She often barricades this from the inside, my lady,” the woman said, unbolting the door.
“I sent word that I wished to speak with her.”
The lay sister knocked.
The great door squeaked open.
With head bowed, the woman inside fell to her knees, her hands steepled in an attitude of submissive prayer.
How gaunt Juliana has become since her arrival at Tyndal Priory, Eleanor thought as she stepped into the tiny room. On those occasions, when she had brought Brother John for spiritual advice and discussion, she had asked if anything was needed. The only thing the anchoress ever requested was time for confession.
Although Eleanor knew that any mortal, who vowed to resist all evil, was tormented by Satan with exceptional vigor and vivid temptations, she found herself asking how many lusty imps the Devil could possibly send to a room barely large enough for an altar and small bed.
“You have rejected yet another servant,” the prioress said. “May I know why?” Space for an even smaller servant’s room had been included when the anchorage had been built, but Juliana had refused any resident attendant. Instead she was using the space to dig her future grave in the floor with her bare hands.
“I am sure Sister Ruth has given reasons, my lady.”
“I would hear the cause from you.”
Juliana’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. “I do not wish anyone to attend me.”
“You have no choice in this. Your duty is to pray, seek God’s wisdom, and comfort those who are compelled to seek your advice. Another must cook, clean, and care for you should you fall ill.”
“When I begged an anchorage, I asked to be granted a forest hut where I could tend to my own needs. There, apart from all other mortals, I would have
“Then let us leave and give back this room to the innkeeper. If the corpse has surrendered all the secrets he ever shall, methinks it is time enough to send the cooper to his grave.”
“I will not argue that!” the crowner said, then swung open the door and immediately took in a deep breath of fresh air.
Chapter Ten
Had she been unwise to volunteer help in this matter of murder, Eleanor asked herself as she hurried along the path to Sister Juliana’s anchorage. Did she not have problems enough of her own, especially with Sister Ruth’s ongoing complaints about the anchoress? As for the revelations about Brother Thomas, she was still unable to force her mind firmly to the dilemma with full reason intact.
She quickly exiled that second thought before tears as traitorous as her monk once again breached the weakened walls of her resolve. The cooper’s murder was easier to contemplate.
Most would argue that this crime was no concern of those enclosed behind monastic walls. They might well be right, but if honest men saw Satan strutting amongst them because of this misdeed, then surely the religious of Tyndal were duty bound to help send him back to Hell.
Besides, Ralf had asked for her aid. Not only was he crowner but he was also her friend, a king’s man who always honored her authority at the priory and had helped her two years ago when she had needed a favor, one that might have caused the crowner much grief had his brother, the sheriff, ever learned of it. She owed him something in return. The least she could do was interview two women.
“A simple enough thing to accomplish compared to what I must do now,” the prioress sighed as she approached the anchorage door. There were times she wished she had never agreed to the admission of Sister Juliana as anchoress at Tyndal. Today was one of them.
The lay sister who had most recently, and even more reluctantly, agreed to serve Tyndal’s recluse stood next to the anchorage entrance. The firmly bolted door was very thick, a precaution suggested by the bishop who had performed the entombing ceremony. Some women had chipped their way out, he said, when this austere life had begun to drive them mad.
Eleanor nodded to the lay sister.
“She often barricades this from the inside, my lady,” the woman said, unbolting the door.
“I sent word that I wished to speak with her.”
The lay sister knocked.
The great door squeaked open.
With head bowed, the woman inside fell to her knees, her hands steepled in an attitude of submissive prayer.
How gaunt Juliana has become since her arrival at Tyndal Priory, Eleanor thought as she stepped into the tiny room. On those occasions, when she had brought Brother John for spiritual advice and discussion, she had asked if anything was needed. The only thing the anchoress ever requested was time for confession.
Although Eleanor knew that any mortal, who vowed to resist all evil, was tormented by Satan with exceptional vigor and vivid temptations, she found herself asking how many lusty imps the Devil could possibly send to a room barely large enough for an altar and small bed.
“You have rejected yet another servant,” the prioress said. “May I know why?” Space for an even smaller servant’s room had been included when the anchorage had been built, but Juliana had refused any resident attendant. Instead she was using the space to dig her future grave in the floor with her bare hands.
“I am sure Sister Ruth has given reasons, my lady.”
“I would hear the cause from you.”
Juliana’s lips twitched into a humorless smile. “I do not wish anyone to attend me.”
“You have no choice in this. Your duty is to pray, seek God’s wisdom, and comfort those who are compelled to seek your advice. Another must cook, clean, and care for you should you fall ill.”
“When I begged an anchorage, I asked to be granted a forest hut where I could tend to my own needs. There, apart from all other mortals, I would have
Similar Books
