Satan's Lullaby (3 page)

Chapter Five

Brother Thomas had just finished overseeing the care of the horses brought by the visitors. Although others might find horse manure and sweat offensive, he loved the beasts and did not care that he reeked of them. Rubbing down a horse had calmed him. After stroking a munching rouncy on the neck, he walked out of the stables and looked across the priory grounds to the cemetery, orchards, and hidden clearing where the bees were tended.

Father Etienne’s interminable sermon and the coming investigation of priory affairs had set him on edge. Perhaps it was unfair to dislike the priest simply because he had been sent on an unpleasant task, but Thomas liked neither the man nor his duty. If horse manure stank, he thought, there was something about this visit that smelled fouler.

Hearing familiar voices nearby, Brother Thomas was surprised to see Prior Andrew, Sister Anne, a lay brother, and Gracia hurrying toward the guest chambers. “Is something amiss?” he called out and hastened along the path to meet them.

When Sister Anne saw him, she raised her hand, her eyes sparkling with relief. “Please come with us, Brother. Prioress Eleanor sent word that one of Father Etienne’s clerics is ill. Your observations would be welcome.”

Gracia started to say something, then quickly covered her mouth.

Prior Andrew looked down at her with a questioning glance.

“I fought off a sneeze, Prior,” she said. “I did not wish to invite the Devil in.”

He patted her shoulder and called out to Thomas with a question about the horses.

As soon as the monk joined them, Sister Anne sent the lay brother back to the hospital. “Your skills with cuts, sprains, and blood-letting will be sorely missed there, and Brother Thomas can take your place in this matter,” she explained to the man. What she did not say, lest the lay brother be unduly pained, was that this sensitive situation needed the monk’s proven knowledge and talent of observation.

“What is the clerk’s complaint?” Thomas sniffed at his sleeve. Horse manure might not please a man favored by a king’s brother.

“Father Etienne did not tell our prioress,” she replied and then dropped her voice to a quieter tone. “I do not like this priest.”

“I do not like that Abbess Isabeau sent him,” Prior Andrew muttered.

“We have no cause to worry,” Thomas said. He might not like this visitation either, but he was trying hard to assume a benevolent motive. “The accounting rolls are current and detailed. Our prioress adheres to the Rule. Perhaps Rome questioned the ability of prioresses to rule their houses with a firm enough hand. If so, what better priory to quell Rome’s fears than Tyndal? ”

“Why not send Father Etienne to Amesbury? That is the most prominent English daughter house in our Order.” Prior Andrew was rarely angry, but his pink face suggested this time was an exception.

“Although Sister Beatrice is not the prioress there, she would be questioned about the novices under her rule.” Thomas laughed and looked heavenward. “May God forgive me for saying this, but I fear even He would hesitate to suggest that our prioress’ aunt owned any faults in her training or supervision of those young women.”

“You have met her, Brother, and I trust your opinion!” The prior’s expression relaxed with amusement.

Turning to Sister Anne, the monk asked, “What was the subject of the priest’s sermon to you?”

“How the Evil One tempts women. Although he did not accuse us of lust, he said we were most likely to suffer the vice. All women are cursed with that weakness, but he said that Satan tries hardest to lead those women who vow themselves to God into breaking their vows of chastity.” Her eyes revealed a flash of sadness.

Thomas noticed it and wondered if her thoughts were of her husband or the doctor from London they had met a few years ago.

“We were told that obedience was a man’s usual failure,” the prior said. “That message is not new, but I was surprised at his emphasis. Why did he warn us about following sinners and not the righteous?” Prior Andrew stumbled on a raised part of the path but quickly recovered his balance.

Thomas feared his prior’s old wound was bothering him but knew better than to offer assistance to the former soldier. As for the sermon, he had been bored by it until the priest warned against following the Devil in the guise of a beautiful angel. Thomas was sure that Davoir was looking directly at him when he said that. Instinctively, he put a hand to his auburn hair. Perhaps this priest believed those many tales that counseled men to be wary of those with red hair.

“A warning against the leadership of a woman?” Sister Anne stopped as they reached the gate to the guest quarters.

“I should not have suggested that, even in jest. Rome has no quarrel with our Order,” Brother Thomas replied. “As for Father Etienne, his own sister is the abbess in Anjou. If he were opposed to the leadership of women, which our Order demands, she would not have sent him here.”

Prior Andrew called to a servant standing inside the small courtyard behind the gate. “We have been summoned by Father Etienne.”

The man nodded, then hurried off to announce them.

***

Gracia wished she could escape, but Sister Anne needed her presence in this crowd of men. The maid did not know what to do.

Ought she to have spoken up when Sister Anne invited the monk to accompany them? Was it her place to do so? Her mistress had said nothing about Father Etienne’s refusal to include Brother Thomas when she asked that they visit the ill clerk. The prioress had only told them that he asked for Prior Andrew and did not want Sister Anne to touch the youth.

Even though Gracia had wished to tell the sub-infirmarian that the prioress had cause not to include the monk, she did not want to contradict the wishes of Sister Anne. Was she wrong to remain mute, respectful of the nun’s decision? Neither choice felt right now, and she longed for guidance but there was no one to ask. How could she tell Brother Thomas of her difficulty when he might be insulted upon learning of the priest’s curt dismissal of his skills?

Gracia slipped her hands inside her robe, twisted them with painful indecision, and longed to be anywhere but where she was.

Chapter Six

Father Etienne scowled with displeasure.

Thomas was certain that the man’s disapproving glance was the result of the equine stench. Fortunately, he caught himself before laughing at the priest’s grimace of distaste.

“We have come to see your sick clerk,” Prior Andrew said.

Sister Anne bowed her head and stood meekly behind the prior.

“Jean is resting,” the priest replied. “His bowels are loose, his head aches, and he has vomited. Those are his symptoms. I assume you will want to see his urine, Prior Andrew.”

The prior glanced at the nun behind him.

She shook her head.

“I am not trained in medicine,” Andrew replied.

“Sister Anne is known throughout England for her healing skills,” Thomas said, his patience swiftly thinning with this odd conversation when there was a patient to see. “Men of high rank come from the king’s court to seek her remedies. A renowned London physician has sought her advice. If your clerk needs healing, you could not ask for…”

“Did I seek your opinion, Brother?” The rebuke was given in a soft tone, but the words possessed sharp edges.

“You did not, but I…”

“Then remember the sermon I have just preached to you in the Chapter House. Obedience demands humility. As the emissary of your abbess in Anjou, I outrank you. You should not speak unless addressed and never give an opinion until asked. Stay humble, my son, and God will embrace you.” The priest tilted his head and gave the monk the forced smile of tolerance a father might give his son when the lad had repeated an error for which he had already been scolded.

Thomas knew his face had flushed with anger but bit his tongue and bowed his head.

“Now,” the priest said, turning to the prior, “I understand your nun has skills in the healing arts, but my clerk is a modest youth who longs to take full vows. To inflict the presence of a woman on him in his weakened state would be a cruelty and a gift to the Prince of Darkness.”

Andrew started to reply.

Davoir raised his hand. “What I propose is this. You shall go into the room and examine my clerk. You need not take a sample of his urine since you do not have the knowledge to interpret the signs in it, and this nun would not have been trained in that. You may then come to the door and present your observations to this nun. She may learn from that what is troubling Jean.” He glanced with ill-disguised disdain at Sister Anne.

“I suggest that Brother Thomas take the responsibility,” Andrew replied. “He is more observant and better trained in the needed skills than I.”

“You shall do this, not he. I had specifically asked for an apothecary monk or the prior because the sub-infirmarian is a woman who may not touch my clerk or even the flask containing his urine. When Prioress Eleanor recommended Brother Thomas, I deemed her choice unacceptable for reasons I need not explain.”

Gracia’s face reddened with shame.

Despite his sharp words to the adults, the priest looked with gentleness on the girl. “I assume Prioress Eleanor saw fit to contradict my request,” he said to her.

Glancing at the frightened girl, Sister Anne said, “It was my decision.”

Thomas saw anger dancing in the nun’s narrowed eyes.

She stepped forward and looked boldly at Davoir.

He drew back as if afraid she might come too near.

“We met our brother on the path here,” she said, “and I asked him to come with us. His observational skills and judgement are respected at the hospital and in the village. Surely I need not mention his reputation and that of our prioress in matters of justice?”

“My sister, the abbess, has fully informed me of these tales, knowing that such news from England is not always of great concern to the French court.” Davoir shook his head. “All this may suggest some medical competence, but I remain amazed that there is no monk, fully trained in medicine, in charge of the hospital. How can you manage cures without a doctor who can read the vital signs found in urine?”

Thomas caught himself wondering how a man who had just lectured him on humility could sound so vain. Did this priest really think that he could change a situation, deemed by him to be improper, merely by willing it to do so?

“Since our abbess has made you aware of this fact, you will understand why I called upon his skills in this important matter of your clerk’s health.” The sub-infirmarian deliberately ignored his remark about an infirmarian monk.

“You and I differ on the issue of what is best for the lad’s well-being.” Father Etienne turned to the prior. “Since my sister leads the Order of Fontevraud, I both understand and respect the premise of a woman leading men as the earthly representative of Our Lady. This otherwise unnatural situation applies only to the abbess and the prioresses of her daughter houses. It does not apply to the nuns within each priory.”

Prior Andrew paled and said nothing.

“They must, as is a woman’s lot, follow the rule of men as it is we who represent the higher spirit while women are but lowly flesh.” Davoir gestured to the prior. “You will do as I direct, Prior Andrew, and examine my clerk. Sister Anne, you will await his observations and, if required, my further instructions.” He spun around and pointed. “Brother Thomas, you may leave the quarters.”

“As you wish, Father, but I beg one favor,” the prior replied. “Since I must speak with Brother Thomas as soon as we leave about some complex matters, I ask that he remain so I do not have to waste time finding him again.” Andrew looked dutifully sheepish. “Such a boon to me would be most kind.”

Brother Thomas tried hard not to grin at the prior’s cleverness.

Davoir nodded. “As you will.” He waved at the monk. “Stand near the door where you will not interfere with the consultation.”

Thomas did as he was ordered but was pleased to note that he could still overhear most of what Sister Anne and Prior Andrew discussed.

As expected, the consultation took much longer than needed. In one thing only had Davoir been correct. Not being a physician, Sister Anne rarely examined the color, smell, texture, or taste of a patient’s urine, although experience and observation had taught her a little. She had chosen not to mention that detail to Davoir.

But she was a skilled apothecary, and Prior Andrew, a former soldier and untrained in the medical arts, had no idea what he should be looking for. Had the matter been less serious, the back and forth discussions between the pair might have been humorous.

Finally, Sister Anne had had enough and muttered instructions to the prior. The process went much faster. When Prior Andrew next emerged from the clerk’s sickroom, Sister Anne whispered some words into his ear, and he turned to address Father Etienne.

“The illness is not dire. Your clerk may have eaten something that did not agree with him. The hospital has a remedy for the humor imbalance, but it must be prepared. We will deliver it to you as soon as that is done. The lay brother will bring instructions on dosage.”

Pleased, the priest thanked Prior Andrew, ignored Sister Anne, blessed Gracia, and dismissed the party from his presence. Thomas had already slipped out of the chambers.

***

As they walked back to the hospital, Sister Anne laughed. “From what our good prior told me, the youth suffers from too much wine drunk at dinner last night. He almost vomited in our prioress’ chambers, coughed to hide the affliction, and swallowed the bile. Then he gagged in the attempt. Poor lad! He denied the excess at first, but his symptoms pointed to a sour stomach and an even more painful head. He confessed all when our prior promised not to tell the clerk’s master.”

“An ailment most clerks suffer frequently enough,” Thomas replied with a grin. “I am sure that Father Etienne sleeps deeply in the arms of righteousness, but his clerks may dance in the embrace of imps while he does.”

“Surely he knows this!” Prior Andrew gave an almost accurate imitation of amazement.

“When I was a clerk, my masters either did not or chose not to know.” For an instant, a dark cloud from that memory settled over his soul, but it quickly moved away. “’Tis a pity the priest would not let me talk with the youth. I might have given Jean some advice about how to chase away the effects of wine, remedies learned in my own sinful youth.”

Sister Anne looked at her friend with gentle amusement. “And for your sins you came to Tyndal and blessed us with your goodness.”

Thomas felt his face turn hot with embarrassment.

Gracia looked at him and wanted to weep. Had she spoken to Sister Anne about the prioress’ orders, her beloved monk would have been spared the indignity of Davoir’s contempt.