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corner, her child clutched in her arms. Other straw beds were empty. No one stood waiting, and the chamber door was shut. “Did Prioress Ursell send a messenger, Mistress Emelyne?”
    “She sent one of her nuns, but I told her to wait outside while I awakened you. I feared a strange voice would alarm you, and mine is familiar from our travels together.”
    “You were kind to think of that.” The prioress struggled to rise, then reluctantly accepted the widow’s proffered hand until she was able to stand without support.
    She was not unappreciative of the woman’s thoughtfulness, nor had she taken for granted the compassion the widow had shown by helping her on with the shoes. But Eleanor had had more than she wished of the woman’s companionship on the road from Tyndal. As ungrateful as it seemed to her now, she still found the widow’s company annoying.
    I am just out of sorts, Eleanor decided on swift reflection, and taking my ill humor out on a good woman. Wincing with the pain from her abused feet, the prioress forced a grimace into a stiff smile. “Now, Mistress Emelyne, if you will call the nun to me?”
    Nodding, the widow walked to the door. As she swung it open, the ill-fitting wooden slats creaked ominously on rusting hinges. Peering around the corner, Mistress Emelyne waved at a hidden figure in the hall.
    The hollow cheeks of the young woman who entered were paler than the weak light would explain. When she saw the prioress of Tyndal, she bowed with courtesy. “Prioress Ursell requests your presence in her chambers, my lady,” she stammered. “Your monk waits there as well.”
    “Brother Thomas?” Eleanor willed herself to walk with stiff-legged dignity toward the nun. “Has disturbing news come from Tyndal?”
    The nun’s eyes glistened with restrained tears. “Nay, my lady, but he has discovered a corpse lying beneath our bell tower. We fear it is one of our sisters.”
    Eleanor glanced upward with dismay. She had come on this pilgrimage as penance for her sins, to seek answers for troubling questions, and find peace in the worship of the holy relics. Why, she now asked God, could He not send that grim reaper of souls to accompany another for a change? Death’s fondness for involving her in his more violent acts was always wearisome, but she had long tolerated it as part of her service to God. On this one journey, however, she begged for a respite from the vile creature.
    Her silent protest ceased when she saw tears flowing from the nun’s deep-set eyes. “I grieve to hear this news,” she said, “and pray that God sends comfort to the hearts of all in this community.”
    Murmuring gratitude, the messenger swiftly brushed her hands over her face.
    With no further hesitation, Eleanor followed the mournful sister to meet with Prioress Ursell and hear what Brother Thomas had discovered. Whatever dismay she felt over this interruption in her pilgrimage, she was still God’s servant and would follow Him no matter where He led her. And, she reminded herself, I owe Him joy in the performance of my duty, not resentment.
    As she carefully walked along the narrow hall, she concluded that the dead nun must have been well-loved to cause such grief in this sister. Shamed by her pettiness, Eleanor acknowledged that this sorrow was of far greater import than any minor complaint she might have about enjoying an undisturbed pilgrimage.

Chapter Six
    Thomas disliked Prioress Ursell almost as much as he did Father Vincent. Although he tried to hide the evidence of his disdain, he had gotten no sleep, his temper was short, and his willingness to remain polite was growing feeble.
    The woman was tall for her gender, he noted, and as long in the face as a horse. Had she chosen marriage as her duty, men would have called her plain as a kindness and ill-cast if they had no cause for courtesy. But she had entered the religious life, and thus such criticism was muted. This prioress should be granted all respect