Valley of Dry Bones (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

The hot afternoon air lay heavily upon the earth. All birds had fallen silent, and even bees were no longer tempted by the lure of dazzling flowers. As the prioress walked with measured pace toward the guest quarters, she prayed that all mortal creatures had found relief and, for those unable to rest, there was shade in which to continue laboring.

Eleanor had no wish to join any in respite. Her mind now eagerly seeking ways to discover a killer, she no longer felt the heat.

As far as she knew, no one, including Father Eliduc, had asked Lady Avelina any questions about Baron Otes. Although God had judged the souls of both sexes to be equal, mortals believed Eve’s daughters were cursed with feeble natures and weaker wit. Men did not often remember to query women, forgetting that powerless creatures survived by keeping their ears alert for sounds ignored by the more confident and their eyes vigilant for troubling details. It was possible Lady Avelina had noticed some small thing that might lead Crowner Ralf to Baron Otes’ murderer. Eleanor was keen to find out.

As she neared the guest house, someone called out to her. She looked over her shoulder.

Brother Beorn hurried down the path toward her.

Eleanor waited, apprehension gnawing at her gut. Had there been another untoward death? Shading her eyes, she tried to interpret the concern darkening the man’s brow as he approached. “Is all well?”

“My lady, I beg audience with you.” Sweat poured down his lean cheeks. The air was sharp with his stink.

“Can this matter wait? I have learned Lady Avelina is unwell.”

He hesitated.

“When I return to my chambers, I shall send for you.”

Although his face betrayed a hint of reluctance, he nodded. “I will pray for her recovery, my lady, and I am grateful you have agreed to hear me out. In truth, my concern may prove a small thing. I shall await your summons.” With that, he bowed and turned away.

Bothered by the hesitation she had heard in his reply, she watched him walk back up the path. A good man, she thought, one who was always obedient and never troubled her with petty matters. This time, he had suggested the problem might be a minor issue, and surely murder superseded most common priory concerns.

She continued on to the guest house.

***

Eleanor knocked, noting with pleasure the finely crafted woodwork on this entrance to the recently completed quarters.

The man who opened the door neither spoke nor bowed in greeting. Instead, he stared at her and waited.

She stiffened at such lack of respect. This was Kenard, Lady Avelina’s attendant, and the one whose hooded eyes unsettled her. It was a feature she had always found distasteful, for it brought to mind Eden’s serpent. Now his haughtiness gave her reason to dislike the man even more. She glowered and said nothing.

He bowed.

“Is the Lady Avelina within and able to receive me? I have learned your mistress was much weakened by her arduous journey and wish to offer whatever comforts and healing power we own to hasten her return to health.”

Gesturing for her to enter, the servant disappeared without uttering a single word.

Such unconscionably rude behavior from this servant must be worthy of rebuke. Her office should be honored even if she herself was not, Eleanor thought, and then reminded herself that she had been doing penance enough over the last year for her bristling pride.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her thoughts about the man to grow more charitable. She had been finding far too many reasons of late to argue that her office had suffered insult. Perhaps it was time to stop hiding the sin of pride behind that rightful claim.

The man returned and motioned in silence for her to follow him.

Bowing her head, she did as requested.

***

The room she entered was filled with shadows. Although the linen hangings around the bed had been pulled open to welcome both light and air, the windows were shuttered. Neither sun nor sea breeze could lighten the gloom or sweep away the stagnant odors common to mortal flesh.

Lady Avelina lay on the bed, her back supported by pillows and only a delicate silken quilt of checkerboard pattern covering her.

How frail she looks, Eleanor thought, then quickly decided that the pale shadows might have exaggerated the woman’s infirmity.

“You show much charity in visiting me on this hot day. Please sit, and my servant will bring cool refreshment to revive you.” Avelina pulled herself into a more upright position and pushed at her covering with peevish annoyance. “This heat sucks so hard at the body. Like enough to a ravenous babe. How could anyone have the strength left to walk or even stand?” Recognizing her tone as querulous and ill-mannered, Avelina tilted her head with shamefaced apology and gestured to a nearby chair.

Eleanor noticed it was set, convenient for conversation, near Avelina’s bed, and a small table had been placed close to hand. All had been readied for a guest’s comfort. She eased herself onto the chair and smiled.

Now that she was closer to the woman, the prioress saw that Avelina’s eyes were bright with wit, not fever. Perhaps the lady suffered only from the heat and fatigue of the journey, quite understandable for a woman of later years and heavier body. Indeed, her face had a reddish hue as if burned by the intense sun. How unfortunate that the lady had not been better protected on the long trip here.

Suddenly, out the corner of her eye, Eleanor saw something move and uttered a soft cry of alarm when a hand passed too close by her face.

It was only the servant who had reappeared with a bowl of dried fruit and a pottery jug, glistening with cool moisture even in the sallow light. Eyes half open, he glanced at her, his expression suggesting gratification over her reaction. Quickly, he set the items on the table and stepped back.

Eleanor shivered. Maybe this man was some malign spirit and no proper mortal at all.

He gestured at the pillows and waited for his lady to respond.

Avelina shook her head and dismissed him with words softly spoken.

His shoes scuffling in the lavender-strewn rushes, the man disappeared through the door.

The prioress was beginning to suspect a profound intimacy between servant and lady. Her reasons for concluding this were vague. Perhaps the cause was simply her dislike for Kenard and her disapproval that such a man would be treated with gentle courtesy when he had not offered the same to her.

As if reading the first of Eleanor’s thoughts, Avelina sighed. “Kenard must do all for me while my maid is resting. The girl suffers ill health.”

The prioress nodded. The swiftness with which this explanation was offered suggested the lady had too often made the same excuse. Although Eleanor did not witness any presumptuous look or gesture by the servant, she now realized there had been an ease between these two, most often seen in husband and wife long wedded.

The matter certainly did not concern her, although she did find it curious. Either the servant was in love with his mistress or else worshipped her far more than any mortal ought another. Whether or not the passion was returned, the prioress guessed Lady Avelina was both aware and countenanced it.

“Does your servant not speak at all?” Eleanor gestured in the direction the man had disappeared. As she did, she noticed the door was not quite closed.

“Not since the battle at Evesham. Kenard was my husband’s servant and saw him killed. Since then, he has served me loyally and with competence but has not uttered a word.” She bit slowly into a piece of dried fruit and chewed with the care of one suffering from sore teeth.

Eleanor gratefully sipped at her mazer of cool ale. “Sister Christina, our infirmarian, believes such afflictions are caused by a sickness in the soul. She has found a penance of fasting and a night of solitary, silent prayer helpful. If confession is needed, we have a priest who can interpret many hand gestures.”

Avelina tugged at her quilt, then pushed it away as if undecided whether she was too hot or too cold. “Your offer is most kind…” Her words drifted into silence, and she pressed the edge of her hand just under her breast.

“I have heard many sad tales of those who were engaged in that battle,” Eleanor said. “My father fought for King Henry but said there were brave men on both sides. As I think more on that, I believe Baron Otes was there too. Did you know him well?”

Avelina did not reply. She stared, eyes rounded as if she had just seen a vision.

Alarmed, the prioress rose.

“Do not trouble yourself, my lady. I suffer only from this heat,” Avelina waved her hand. “I thank you for your suggestion. Perhaps Kenard has already learned of your nun’s methods, although I shall certainly inform him of the treatment. Should he wish to seek the healing offered, I would give him leave to do so.”

Eleanor hesitated. If the lady was unwell, perhaps she should not question her about the baron. Until she made up her mind, she opted for caution and changed the topic. “I understand your son accompanied you here.”

Avelina laughed. “Simon did travel with me. Like most young men, he grew impatient with idleness once we arrived. He learned that a hermit lived near the priory and begged my permission to visit him. I sent him off.”

“Then God has blessed you with a pious lad.”

“The request was most unexpected, I fear. Until now, he has longed only to fight and perform brave deeds like some mythical knight so I hid my surprise and expressed pleasure over this sudden interest.” She sighed. “In truth, I would be happy if he did find a calling to serve God.”

“He is not your eldest then?” Eleanor struggled to remember if her father had mentioned how many children were in this family and failed to bring such details to mind.

“He is my only living son who faces an empty legacy. Surely you know that my lord was an early follower of de Montfort? The earl honored us by agreeing to be our son’s godfather and for this reason my son is also named
Simon.
The honor turned bitter when my husband was declared a traitor after his death at Evesham. All his lands and title were forfeited to the crown, and so my boy has little inheritance and less honor.”

The prioress grieved she had humiliated the lady by making her recount a tale that must bring her sorrow. Although the prioress never intended cruelty, she attempted to ease any pain by adding, “You now serve Queen Eleanor and must have her confidence for she sent you here on her behalf. Perhaps she will help your son recover what his father lost. Others in similar circumstances have won back their lands.”

“I am honored to wait upon our king’s lady wife and do so only because my kin were all loyal to the crown. Had my family not fought for King Henry, my son and I might have starved. The old king, at the urging of his brother, showed charity. I was allowed to keep a few manors to support us.”

Eleanor was unable to read Avelina’s expression, muted as it was by soft shadows, and wondered if it betrayed bitterness over the past or pride that she had gained favor despite her husband’s unfortunate allegiance. “Your own fidelity is unquestioned,” she said, bending forward with a gentle smile after deciding to emphasize the woman’s trustworthiness.

Had Avelina’s husband rejected de Montfort when the Lord Edward finally did, matters would have been quite different for this family. The new king himself had a history of flickering loyalties, and Eleanor’s eldest brother, Sir Hugh, had followed his direction no matter which way Lord Edward had twisted and turned. Her brother suffered no ill and had even been knighted in Outremer by the king.

“How old is your son?” Eleanor shifted the subject away from these painful matters.

Apparently less discomfited by the unhappy topic than the prioress had thought, the Lady Avelina went on. “The boy was but a babe in arms at his sire’s death and innocent of any treason,” she said. “I have hoped Queen Eleanor would approach the king on my behalf and persuade him to restore both land and title even though I know the possibility is remote.” She brightened. “So you can understand my happiness were Simon to declare that his soul longed to serve the Church.” Pressing a hand to her heart, she added with greater enthusiasm, “And I think it most likely that our queen could convince King Edward to arrange some profitable living for my boy!”

“I shall pray for an honorable and just conclusion to this matter.”

Avelina bowed her head with the required gratitude.

Eleanor sat back. Perhaps she would try again to raise the subject of Baron Otes, since the lady seemed content enough to talk about the past. “Evesham was a cruel battle, for cert. My own father suffered a horrible wound, as did Prior Andrew. Of those who accompanied you on this journey, I have heard that Baron Otes fought there as well, although not, I believe, Sir Fulke.”

“Many on both sides did suffer.” Avelina looked away. ”Their names fade from memory over the years, except in the hearts of the survivors.” She fell silent and picked at the quilt.

Eleanor slowly raised her mazer and sipped. What path should she now take? This time, Avelina had clearly avoided talking about the baron. Were she to pursue this subject, the prioress feared she might cause offence.

Like the Trinity,
three
was a sacred number, and so she decided to try a third time. If the lady showed annoyance, she would quickly turn to another subject. “The war brought a few to God,” Eleanor said. “Prior Andrew took vows when he regained health, and I have heard Baron Otes was making gifts of land in exchange for prayers on behalf of his soul.”

It was unclear whether the lady coughed or snorted with disdain. “So I have heard. A leper house in Yorkshire, I believe. Nor shall his sons suffer from these bequests. He will leave them prosperous enough.”

At least Avelina had responded, and she did not seem upset over the land gifts as Father Eliduc had. Even if the mention of the baron’s charitable donations had provoked her mild contempt, that reaction was no different than what many others had expressed.

Eleanor pressed on, hoping to learn something of interest if not of obvious value. “For all his charity, he died violently. I marvel at that and grieve as well.”