Covenant With Hell Read Online Free PDF Page B

crucifix.
    “While it was still dark, I awoke and, unable to fall back asleep, walked outside.”
    The priest muttered. His words may have been inaudible, but his pursed lips made his censure plain.
    Thomas felt anger spark. Did this man find all mortals worthy of frequent rebuke, or just him? His mouth suddenly dry with indignation, he longed for wine or ale to moisten his throat but suspected a man could beg for succor in this room and Death would arrive faster than charity.
    Calming himself, he continued. “The street was quiet, empty of men, and the only light came from the nearby inn. A moment later, I heard a woman’s scream from the direction of the priory bell tower. Fearing she had been attacked, I rushed down the road, hoping to prevent a theft being committed or other great injury.”
    Father Vincent inclined his head to Prioress Ursell. “A questionable act for a tonsured man. Had he come upon armed thieves, he could not have committed violence against them. His vocation prohibits it.” His eyes narrowed with scorn. “But surely he meant well, and so I conclude his dubious act was less blameworthy than ill-considered.”
    This priest is insufferable with his endless, critical commentary, Thomas thought. I should have learned to expect that, but now the man is daring to suggest in public that I have acted with impropriety.
    He inhaled sharply and turned to Prioress Eleanor to plead his case. No one but his own prioress had the right to reproach him or decide if his behavior was unseemly.
    She shook her head, her look soft with understanding.
    That soothed him, and he was able to swallow his angry retort and keep a wiser counsel. To retain his calm, he vowed himself to silence until she, and only she, gave him permission to speak further.
    Prioress Ursell waved impatiently at him to go on.
    Pointedly, he looked to Eleanor.
    She allowed him to continue.
    “When I reached the base of the tower, I found a woman’s body. From her simple dress, I feared she was a nun, and then I recognized her as the one who welcomed us here. The injuries and position of the corpse suggested she must have fallen from the bell tower, although I reflected on whether she might also have…”
    “That will be conjecture enough, Brother. I forbid more.”
    “Indeed?” Eleanor’s eyes widened in mild surprise.
    Prioress Ursell stiffened as if some novice had dared to speak without permission.
    A lesser woman might have quailed. Eleanor smiled, her expression changing into one of patient expectation.
    “To be brief,” Ryehill’s prioress said, “your monk found Father Vincent close at hand. Our priest alerted me to the tragedy. The body now lies in our chapel. I have seen the corpse and identified the nun as Sister Roysia. That is all there is to this tale. It was a dreadful accident.”
    Eleanor looked over at her monk.
    His sideways glance conveyed his disagreement.
    “If that is all,” Eleanor said, her expression growing less amiable, “I do not understand why I was told that that our cooperation was so necessary that I must be brought here at such an early hour.”
    From the tower outside, the priory bell rang for the early Office.
    Ursell murmured something, then fell silent and turned her attention to the several tapestries covering the walls of her audience chamber. As if seeing them for the first time, her study took some time.
    Thomas noted the embroidery was ill-crafted, but was not surprised that they pleased this insensitive woman. He glanced at his prioress.
    Eleanor’s eyes were half closed like a cat in deceptive sleep.
    “As the leader of a priory yourself,” Ursell finally said to the head of Tyndal, “you know how fragile our reputations are. Nuns are often suspected of committing sinful acts. If our priory were tainted with even a hint of ignominy, the faithful would shun us and take their coin elsewhere. I have nuns to feed and clothe, women devoted to prayer for souls in Purgatory. We are not richly