Free Valley of Dry Bones by Priscilla Royal

spirits firmly brighten. Perhaps God did not hate him, he decided with renewed confidence. “Did you not test Job, a much beloved servant, far more than other mortals?” Then afraid he had been arrogant to suggest he might resemble that exemplary man of faith, he added, “Not that I am as good as he.”
    Considering the pain suffered by Job, faith and patience might not be the only lessons taught in the story. God could use unease, doubt, or even anguish like a cowherd did his goad to make a man change or question his direction if such were necessary. There was more than one similarity between himself and an ox, Thomas concluded. God might well have to goad him.
    Pausing to stare through the tree tops with their halo of sunlight, the monk knew he must decide what he should do next. He could not continue to loudly spew questions at God without listening for the small voice whispering answers.
    As he continued, wary of his footing on the steep path, he grew convinced that change was due. Enough signs were there. Not only did Ralf visit for the first time in months, but Father Eliduc had arrived in the priory. That coincidence of events caught his attention, even if he did not understand their precise significance. He vowed again to consult Brother John.
    As often as he cursed Father Eliduc, his visits also meant adventures for Thomas, times he enjoyed. Although he had hated Tyndal Priory when he first arrived, he found friendship here, with Crowner Ralf and Sister Anne in particular, and some purpose comforting the sick at the hospital or in the village. Maybe he could finally find contentment as a monk in this Order of Fontevraud. Even serving a woman had taught him a little humility, and Thomas knew how easily a man fell into sinful pride. All these things must be taken into account in his choice.
    For cert, he could not remain a hermit. He was no holy man. No longer could he tolerate visitors at his door, begging for his touch that they might be healed. Even though he sent them to Sister Anne and Sister Christina at the priory hospital, the look in their eyes as they gazed on him both horrified and brought him evil dreams.
    “I am committing blasphemy by staying here,” he whispered, then willed these thoughts aside as he reached the path’s end.
    The pond was just a few steps away, and he eagerly pulled his robe over his head. For just a moment, he shut his eyes and stood still, letting the sun warm his body before he plunged into the glinting water. His fear of Father Eliduc and all his other torments diminished.
    Then he smelled an unsettling odor and opened his eyes. Clouds of hungry flies caught his attention. All newborn serenity faded when he saw the cause.
    A twisted body lay under the bush to his left.
    Thomas knew the man was dead.

Chapter Twelve
    A large orange cat with round eyes the color of emeralds sat flicking his tail while Prioress Eleanor knelt at her prie-dieu.
    She opened her eyes and looked down at the creature.
    He began to purr.
    “I know your ways, Arthur. Did you bring a rat, a bird, or something else to delight Gytha and terrify me?” Sighing, she picked the cat up, folded him into her arms, and rose. A dusting of bright fur settled on her dark robe.
    “It was a rat, my lady,” Gytha replied, walking through the door to the private chambers. “A fine one. Methinks Sister Matilda will be most pleased to hear of this.”
    Eleanor shuddered at the very thought but hugged the mighty hunter close. “I assume you have removed the gift?”
    Gytha nodded and quickly disappeared. Someone was begging entrance at the door to the prioress’ public rooms.
    When she returned, the maid’s face was pale. “Crowner Ralf begs a word, my lady.”
    “Your expression tells me to expect troubling news.” She eased Arthur down onto her narrow bed where he quickly curled into a comfortable spot for a well-earned nap.
    “A corpse has been found near the hermit’s hut.”
    Eleanor’s hand flew to her