Wine of Violence (17 page)

"Let me take him." Anne reached out. "His added weight is not helpful to you."

"Let him be." Eleanor looked fondly at the furry creature. "He has a soothing softness."

Sister Anne started to laugh, then stopped. There was a sharp rap at the chamber door, and she turned toward it with a frown.

"Enter," Eleanor called out.

Gytha rushed in and curtseyed awkwardly. "My lady, the crowner is here. He begs an audience with you."

"He has done his investigation quickly," Eleanor said, turning to Anne and raising her eyebrows in surprise.

Gytha spun around on one foot and was about to speed out the door.

"Gytha! A moment, if you please. I will need you to provide refreshment for the good man."

"Shall I bring bread as well as wine, my lady?"

"And cheese. He will need something to regain his strength after all his efforts. And perhaps something for..." She pointed to the cat. "I understand he brought three fine dead rats to Sister Edith today."

"Who squealed loud enough the whole priory knew of his success at the hunt!" Gytha giggled, then rushed from the room to fetch the food.

"Such energy!" Eleanor chuckled.

"Such youth," Sister Anne sighed.

Ralf stood over the heavy wooden table and, with ravenous eager
ness, eyed the already razed stack of bread and hacked mound of cheese set before him. "Blood it was on the whip. I'm sure of it," he said as he reached out with his stained knife to spear another piece of deep orange cheese. He wrapped a hefty chunk of fresh bread around it before taking a huge bite. "I'm grateful for this, my lady. Haven't been able to break my fast yet today." Crumbs flew as he chomped at the food with dogged enthusiasm.

Eleanor glanced up at the angle of light coming through her window. The day was well into the afternoon hours. "Do sit and relax. I can wait for a report," she replied.

Anne rolled her eyes heavenward with gentle amusement as she watched the crowner saw off another slab of cheese.

Ralf shook his head. "If I sit, I'll fall asleep." Then he took another monstrous bite and couldn't quite close his mouth as he
chewed. "I must say that the purpose of the cave is still puzzling."
He continued munching cheerfully, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk with a winter's cache in its mouth.

Eleanor took a sip of wine. "What are your thoughts on it?"

Ralf paused for a brief second in mid-chew. "My first thought
was that it was a hideaway for a villein running away from his lord, but the pegs suggested it was being used for more than a temporary hiding spot. They and the raised bed were not things a poor tenant farmer on the run would bother with. At most he might make a mat of leaves or a pallet of dried grass."

"Did you find any evidence of cooking?"

"No evidence of fire at all, or discarded bones from eating, and that was passing strange as well." Ralf shook his head. "The
whip did make me wonder about one possibility. Have you heard
of any hermit recently come to the area?"

Eleanor looked up at Anne, who shook her head. "No. We have heard of no one. I would not expect a hermit to make himself an elevated bed either. Although, now that you raise the question, I wonder about the man I saw."

"Surely a hermit would have come to us by now, my lady. He would want to have the services of one of our priests," Anne suggested.

"I wish I had gotten a better look at the man before he ran from me. Perhaps the cave was his. I also find it strange that the sight of a mere nun would frighten him so."

"A bearded man with long hair and brindled clothes would match most of the men from the village." Ralf grunted. "Fishermen and men who work the fields care not for fashion. And the knife does not surprise me. Perhaps he didn't mean to threaten you at all. Perhaps he was cleaning a bird or some wild animal he'd just killed, but running from you does surprise me. The sight of a nun should not be surprising or strange to anyone in the area. The townspeople have all benefited from your hospital
and they come to your church for services. Unless he ran because
he did not expect to see a nun alone and did not know what he should do? Perhaps he feared God's wrath if he spoke to you."

"He did not necessarily know I was alone. Indeed, he would have expected someone to be with me. He might have been surprised to see a nun where he did not think to see one, but he would have had no reason to run unless he was afraid. Or had something to hide."

"Or was possessed," Sister Anne suggested.

Eleanor thought for a moment. "I believed he was going to kill me when I saw him with that knife in his hand. Now that I think about it, however, he did look frightened. Certainly, he ran as if he were. If he is possessed, I fear the spirit that has entered his body is more likely to hurt him than another."

"Then he is to be pitied more than feared," Anne replied as she turned to the crowner. "The townspeople have seen us away from the priory on occasion, albeit rarely, and usually in the woods. I have looked for herbs abroad when our garden has run short, and Sister Matilda used to search for mushrooms in the forest when she was in charge of the kitchen." She shook her head as Ralf opened his mouth to speak. "No, the villagers are not there for criminal reasons and steal nothing of interest to the King. They usually come for the same reasons we have. When we meet, they greet us with courtesy and pass on."

Gytha quietly lifted the ewer of cooled wine and filled the goblets for both Eleanor and Ralf. When the girl offered to pour wine for her, Sister Anne put her hand over her cup.

"You've been that far from the priory?" Ralf asked the nun.

"Not I, Ralf," Anne said. "The wild herbs I use require sun or light shade. My needs were met closer by, but Sister Matilda might have gone deeper into the forest for her mushrooms."

Ralf coughed, then belched with immense satisfaction. "I
would be most grateful, my lady, if you would speak to the sister.
I don't know why, but I seem to frighten your nuns, or else turn them into angry amazons. If Sister Ruth had had a lance in hand when she saw me approach your cloister gate today, I do believe she would have run me through."

Eleanor laughed. "Indeed! Then be grateful we cannot be war
rior nuns in the manner of the Templar monks. Still, I will be
happy to talk to Sister Matilda. Perhaps you would be good enough
to return tomorrow. I will tell you what I have discovered."

Ralf swept the table with one last look, grabbed the remaining piece of cheese, which he raised to Eleanor in salute, then bowed and left. As soon as the chamber door shut behind him, Eleanor and Anne looked at each other and burst out in loud laughter.

Gytha blinked in amazement as the two women continued to howl in shared mirth.

"Fear not, child," Eleanor said, reaching out to touch Gytha's arm. "We are not mad but simply ungracious enough to enjoy the thought of our elder porteress as a warrior maiden, donning armor and baring her breast to joust with our crowner, who, I should think, would be more interested in a fine cheese than her naked breast."

"Forgive me, my lady, but Sister Ruth would need no weapon
save her bared breast to slay Crowner Ralf," Gytha replied, eyes twinkling despite her sober look.

The two nuns flushed red, but this time all three bent over in uncontrolled laughter.

Chapter Nineteen

Thomas lied to Sister Anne.

Despite his aching head, he could not stand yet another full day of enforced rest. She had called it a miraculous recovery and let him go with a look that said she knew full well that he was more impatient than fully fit. Out of guilt he had promised not to overdo and to come back at once if he began to vomit or show other symptoms of ill health within the next few days.

As he left the hospital, every muscle in his body cried to run for all he was worth or find a horse and gallop until he and the beast were too exhausted to go further. Then his head began to pound at the very thought, and he knew that Sister Anne was right. He would be cautious, he decided grudgingly.

Still he wanted to be useful so he walked into the hut just
outside the entrance to the hospital. There were few people await
ing treatment. A lay brother gave one such person something to treat what looked like a minor cut. Another man blushed as he pointed to his genitals and made a scratching gesture. Tomorrow, Thomas thought, his wife may be in for the same reason and the husband back as well with a cracked skull for sharing the ailment he most likely got from his whore.

No one needed the services of a priest so he left and walked toward the church. As he reached the split in the path that would take him toward the sacristy, he heard the gravel crunch behind him and he turned.

"How does your head feel, brother?" Brother Simeon's expres
sion was grave and his hand gentle as he reached over and touched Thomas on the shoulder.

Thomas put his hand on the wound as if he had already forgot
ten about it. It was still sore. "Hardly notice it," he shrugged.

Simeon beamed with returned good humor. "Good! Then you'll be back with the nuns soon. Brother John will be most grateful to return full time to his little novices and his music. He does so miss them." He snorted with ill-disguised contempt.

"He may do so today. I am on my way there now."

"Then I shall walk with you," Simeon said and the two monks
started back along the path to the sacristy. "Has your memory returned as well, or have you heard anything more about who might have attacked you?"

"No, my lord. Neither. I am beginning to think it was some malevolent spirit whose nocturnal wanderings I interrupted."

"Or you got too close to the hiding place of some villain escaped from his master." Simeon sighed. "Then you have heard nothing either about any progress in the hunt for Brother Rupert's killer?"

A loud laugh made both men spin around. Standing just a
few paces behind them was Ralf. Fatigue edged the crowner's eyes
in black, but, as he looked down the path at the two monks, his grin was almost boyish. "Neither of you was ever in the army, for cert. Had you been sentries, you'd be dead by now. Never even heard me come up behind you!"

Thomas watched Simeon's face turn scarlet with rage. "It seems I must remind you that this is a house of God, not a
military camp, Crowner. Your worldly skills have no value here."
Simeon almost spat the last words.

"And if Brother Rupert, or our brother here, had had my worldly skills as you call them, the former might be alive and the latter might be without that bump on his head. And how is your tender pate, my saintly friend?"

"Were I saintly, Crowner, I would feel it less. And if I had your
thick skull, I might never have felt it at all," Thomas replied.

Ralf threw back his head and roared with laughter.

Simeon looked at Thomas in surprise.

"You missed your calling, monk," Ralf said. "You should have
been a Templar. From what Annie told me, you got quite the crack on your skull, yet your tongue is quick and ready despite your injured wits, and you're walking around quite freely again. Had you been a warrior monk, methinks you'd be back on your horse and ready for battle. The Templars could use someone like you in the Holy Land."

The crowner brought his hand down on Thomas' shoulder so hard the monk saw flashes of light and swayed ever so slightly. For an instant, Thomas' mood darkened. Perhaps he would have been happier with the fighting monks. He was not suited to
inconsequential investigations of account rolls, but then he hadn't
been given much of a choice. Still, this assignment had not been without its adventures, he decided. His mood brightened.

"Enough childish waste of time, Crowner. Are you here because
you finally have some news about Brother Rupert's murderer?" Simeon drew himself up to his full height and stuffed his fists into his sleeves.