Free Chambers of Death by Priscilla Royal

to my side.”
    Refusing to budge from his position in front of the prioress, he muttered, “I cannot leave you without protection here.”
    She glared and folded her arms into her sleeves.
    “Brother Thomas!” the man bellowed. The pitch was high enough to penetrate the crowd noise.
    When the monk spun around and saw Eleanor, his expression shifted from anger to a thankful obedience.
    She exhaled with relief and gestured for him to join her. “I owe you gratitude, Master Ranulf,” she said when Thomas was a few steps away. “I must no longer keep you from your more pressing duties. As you will agree, with a priest by my side, I now have suitable protection from the wickedness here.”
    Ranulf hesitated longer than was proper, but he did finally bow and march off.
    Thomas frowned as he watched the man leave.
    “The steward’s eldest son,” Eleanor explained, her eyes following Ranulf’s progress across the courtyard.
    “A grim face,” Thomas said. “When I heard him shout, I first thought someone had stepped on a goat’s teat.”
    The prioress swiftly covered her mouth to keep laughter back, but the monk had seen the smile and grinned with companionable amusement.
    “For this lack of charity, we must both do penance, Brother,” Eleanor replied, recognizing that she had failed to color her words with proper sternness. Ranulf might have been rude, but he had only meant to offer her protection and an escort away from harm. It was cruel to mock the steward’s son. After all, she was a nun and had no obvious cause to be in this place. If she were to point her finger at the greatest sin in this brief encounter, she would have to choose her own puffed-up pride.
    “I have met his wife,” Thomas said.
    “As have I.”
    The two glanced at each other.
    “Methinks he merits our prayers, Brother,” Eleanor replied.
    The monk nodded, having the grace to turn away and hide this grin. “What may I do to serve you, my lady?”
    “The reason I am here, thus causing Master Ranulf such distress, was something I saw from that window.” She tilted her head. “Please explain why you were about to strike that man?”
    “I beg forgiveness…”
    “When we return to our priory, I am sure Brother John will provide his usual wise counsel and remind you that it is the meek who shall inherit the earth. However, even though no monk, especially a religious of Tyndal, should ever trade blows with another mortal, I must hear the cause for your singular behavior today.”
    “You have been told that a man was murdered?”
    “One who worked in the stables: Tobye.”
    “When I heard the commotion, I rushed into the courtyard and learned that his body had been found in the stable. Then I saw the sheriff’s men pulling the corpse outside.” He gestured toward the stable door. “I feared evidence had been destroyed by that thoughtless act and tried to explain my concerns to one of the men involved.”
    “Perhaps Sir Reimund had already examined the site before he ordered the body removed.”
    “I do not believe so. According to the cur I questioned, the sheriff did not want Master Stevyn offended by the splattered gore when he came to identify the body. Thus he ordered the wound covered and the corpse dragged over there.”
    As she looked in the direction the monk was indicating, Eleanor realized that Ranulf had not left the courtyard. Instead, he was standing next to the man with the black horse and seemed to be discussing something with great passion. Nearby, the dead body lay in the mud.
    “As you see, Tobye’s corpse still lies like some slaughtered animal for anyone to stare at. When I asked that the body be handled with greater respect at the very least, I was mocked. I fear I lost my temper.”
    “We can do little about evidence which is no real concern of ours, Brother, but I shall ask that the dead man be taken away so his body may be properly prepared for burial.”
    He bowed his head. A muscle twitched in his