Satan's Lullaby Read Free Page A

Because there was no intermediary between the abbess and the papacy, Abbess Isabeau enjoyed an authority over her daughter houses that others of equal ecclesiastical rank in other Orders did not. That included the right to send a representative of her own choosing to examine any house she deemed in need of some correction. In practice, she rarely did this. Eleanor was not pleased that her abbess had decided to make Tyndal Priory the exception.
    Davoir remained silent. One of his clerks, thin and of medium height, stared at the ceiling and stifled a yawn. The other, a short and plump youth, glanced with a pained expression in the direction of the priory’s garderobe.
    When Eleanor received word that Father Etienne Davoir was coming and the approximate date of his arrival, she had talked to Prior Andrew about what might have generated such scrutiny. Neither could come up with a cause. She knew of no moral lapse. Tyndal Priory was financially sound. Soon after her arrival several years ago, she had reinstituted the Rule regarding diet and prayer. There were repairs needed to various buildings, but a few cracks were not worth risking the life of a high-ranking priest by sending him on the dangerous voyage between France and England. An admonitory letter would have sufficed.
    The bored young clerk to Davoir’s left twitched with ill-disguised impatience. The other also twitched, but, Eleanor suspected, his bowels were the motivation, not apathy.
    She ignored the youths and continued to gaze back at Davoir with benign expectation. Of course, she could ask this man why he had been sent, but a flash of anger stopped her. Was she not a competent prioress? Had she not pulled Tyndal back from financial devastation and cleansed its reputation from the taint of dishonor? The abbess owed her the courtesy of greater detail in her missive. Since she had failed to do so, Eleanor resolved that she would not grovel to Abbess Isabeau’s younger brother and beg for what she ought to have been given freely.
    “I hope your journey was a pleasant one,” she said.
    “The weather was favorable during the voyage. We thought God had smiled on us.” Father Etienne cleared his throat. “When we landed and were met by the armed escort sent by your gracious king to keep us safe on the journey here, we were pleased.” He glanced over at the pale clerk on his right. “Yet I fear the ride from the port to your priory was difficult. Jean is unwell.”
    When Eleanor saw the gentleness with which Davoir put a hand on the plump clerk’s arm, she softened. “I grieve that you have been distressed.” She looked at the youth more carefully. His soft features had the gray-green pallor of a corpse.
    “The world is filled with Satan’s minions,” Davoir said, turning back to her. “Those who have chosen to serve God outside the walls of religious houses are never far removed from sinful violence.” He bent to the young clerk and murmured a question.
    Jean swallowed, then shook his head.
    Eleanor wondered what might have so shaken the youth that he had taken ill.
    Davoir brightened with pride. “But Jean has always found the greatest strength in God.”
    “What occurred?” The question was not idly asked. Eleanor wanted to establish whether the clerk needed prayer, one of Sister Anne’s cures, or both. Fortunately, she thought, this priest will assume I suffer from the wanton curiosity deemed common in women. In fact, it was advantageous for others to assume she was infected with this feminine vice. If it was only curiosity needing satisfaction, mortals were inclined to give details. Crowner Ralf, because he hunted those guilty of crime, had a harder time prying information from the innocent, let alone the guilty.
    “I shall be brief. One of the soldiers in our escort quickly became a congenial companion for my clerk. The man was a fine storyteller and entertained Jean on the long journey from the sea. For one disinclined to admire earthly