Justice for the Damned Read Free Page B

assumption. After all, the roofer might well have a wife.
    He
quickly raised his hand to bless the man in farewell. As he walked away, his
neck began to prickle as if someone was watching him. He spun around and looked
up at the roof.
    Sayer
was carefully removing a piece of slate.
    Chapter
Three
    Although
the morning had promised warmth, the day remained quite chill. Accompanied by
her aunt and Sister Anne, Eleanor retreated to the lodgings belonging to the
prioress of Amesbury. There they found a lively fire. A servant quickly brought
both wine and cheese for refreshment and just as promptly departed to allow the
women private conversation.
    As
they all rubbed their hands near the fire, Eleanor looked around at her
temporary residence, rooms she had rarely seen when she was a young novice and
nun. When she had been brought to these chambers some days ago, Eleanor had
commented with due courtesy on how comfortably appointed the quarters were. In
this she had spoken the truth, for her own at the East Anglian priory were
quite poor in comparison.
    Three
of the stone walls in this public room were softened with well-crafted and
colorful hangings, whereas Eleanor had but one near her bed at Tyndal. Above
the door here hung a smaller embroidered cloth which depicted Adam and Eve
leaving Eden, a work that must have given Prioress Ida pause for thought each
time she left the tranquility of her quarters for the chaos of the world
without.
    Against
the other two walls, full-length tapestries kept any cold at bay. One
illustrated the falling walls of Jericho, beside which stood a blond Joshua
bearing a shield with three lions. Eleanor wondered if this had been a gift
from King Henry or his queen in honor of their son, Edward, who was on crusade.
The other showed a matronly Virgin holding the infant Jesus; the mother's face
vaguely resembled that of the prioress in charge during Eleanor's youth.
    Close
to the fourth wall stood an altar and an elaborately carved prie-dieu, the wood
of which glowed with a reddish cast in the firelight.
    A
comfortable enough room, Eleanor thought, yet she had discovered one lack. The
Amesbury Psalter was missing, an elegant, illuminated work that had always been
used by the prioress for her own prayers. Or so she remembered.
    She
turned to her aunt. "Does the priory still possess the Psalter done in Salisbury? You sometimes used it to teach us to read."
    "Rarely,
child, rarely." Beatrice shook her head. "Prioress Joan agreed that I
might do so only as a reward for those most diligent in their work." For a
moment, she fell silent as if lost in a past memory, then she sipped her wine.
"It would never have left this room, but one corner is torn. Prioress Ida
sent it to the library and scriptorium where a monk more talented than any of
our own will come to do the needed repair."
    "I
must take you there to see it," Eleanor said to Anne.
    "An
excellent walk for us both on a warmer day," the sub-infirmarian replied
as she rose and offered a plate of cheese to the other two women.
    Eleanor
shook her head in refusal and turned to Sister Beatrice. The novice mistress
was examining the contents of her mazer, but her expression suggested that the
quality of the wine was not her concern. Had the news brought to her by the man
at the gate been so troubling? The prioress settled into her chair, grateful
for the support of the firm wood. Her back ached.
    "Did
you learn something distressing from the laborer?" Eleanor asked.
    "I
did not expect to hear that Wulfstan, of all people, would see a ghost coming
out of the reeds by the river." Beatrice raised her hand in a gesture of
disgust. "Had it been almost anyone else, I would have assumed that the
vision was a wisp of fog that wound around a winter-killed bush or even a large
bird. We have a crow nesting in a tree near the library. He may have seen it
flying out of the fog near the river, but I am troubled indeed. Wulfstan is a
steady fellow, not given to