Free Valley of Dry Bones by Priscilla Royal Page B

much as usual, he said. A little work in his garden. Prayers. Another visitor, besides me. One whom he swears would not commit such violence. He never even saw Nute come for the jug and basket, although he sometimes does not. The wee lad tries not to disturb him.” He shrugged.
    “What about strange noises at night? He observes the Offices and therefore lies in bed less than other men.” Although she carefully phrased this, she knew Brother Thomas suffered sleepless hours when he was in the priory and was wont to pace the dark cloister garth, seeking relief.
    “Lovers occasionally slip down the path to the pond, he said. He knows their whisperings and step. Beasts wander by as well, but he is familiar with the ways of wild things.” Ralf was counting on his fingers. “Travelers seek refuge and avoid the roads at night. A party that did not would be numerous, armed, and loud enough to wake our monk.” He hesitated, holding his thumb. “That was all, I think.”
    “I am not sure what I had hoped to accomplish with my questions and beg forgiveness for intruding in a matter where I have no cause.” Eleanor fell silent as her grey eyes darkened with worry.
    “Your questions lead me on the way to a more reasoned approach, and so I am grateful for your interest. Let us pray this man was a member of some lawless band passing by the village and was killed in a quarrel.”
    Crowner and prioress glanced at each other, neither of them for a moment believing that such a thing had happened.
    “You are kind, and I have kept you from your work long enough.” She gestured to Gytha. “The prior and lay brother will be summoned at once. I know they must see the body as soon as possible.”
    “Unnatural death is never welcome, my lady, but this one is especially ill-timed with the arrival of my brother and others from court yesterday.” The last words were uttered in a tone akin to a dog’s growl. “Methinks this death may cause some of them to grow uneasy.”
    “We shall calm any fears,” she replied, her confident words hiding her own worry. She suspected the crowner was anxious about the reaction of his less-than-beloved sibling while she was more concerned with that of Father Eliduc. “I confess none will be pleased to find murder committed at the very gates of a priory where Queen Eleanor thought to stay.”
    Rising, the crowner bowed. “I spoke rashly. You cannot be blamed if men fight or die outside these walls. Please be assured that my brother, who has no quarrel with Tyndal, will do his best to calm all who came on the queen’s behalf.”
    A brief smile twitched at the prioress’ lips. “I do trust Sir Fulke shall argue that he keeps his county safe and no innocent need fear violence under his watch. The force with which he must present his case shall depend on the nature of this foulness. Come back with word as quickly as you can. Your brother must be told of this matter and soon enough.”
    “I hope to put a name to the corpse first,” Ralf replied. “If I can assure my brother that the pursuit of justice is well in hand, he may not feel obliged to muddle my quest for the killer with ill-conceived interference and vain posing.”
    “Then I shall add my prayers to yours,” Eleanor replied and summoned Gytha so she might instruct her on what was required to assist the crowner.

Chapter Thirteen
    Father Eliduc walked along the path leading from the church. Glancing back at the dank stone building, he saw how thick moss blackened the glass of the window behind the altar. He stopped to glare at the offending growth. How reprehensible and inexcusable!
    He also breathed a sigh of relief.
    Earlier, when he had knelt inside for prayer, he noticed that the light in the chapel was inexplicably murky despite the intense summer sun outside. This dimness had distracted his worship and filled him with foreboding. Now he knew that God had not draped a cloud over the sun to signify ominous displeasure with mortals or to