Free Justice for the Damned by Priscilla Royal

toward the
mint, bending to pick a leaf. "I was told that his father died near St. Albans," she said, inhaling the bracing scent.
    "I
had not heard that. Our brother told me only that he prayed his father had been
shriven in time."
    Eleanor
put the mint leaf into her mouth and chewed it with evident enjoyment. "He
did not ask leave to spend any time with his family, either then or when we
passed nearby on our way here."
    "Maybe
they are no longer in St. Albans?"
    Eleanor
nodded. "My aunt told me that Richard of Almayne died near there as well.
What a sad coincidence. I wonder if Brother Thomas' father was in the service
of our king's most noble brother?"
    With
that question, the two women fell silent, for both knew that the absence of
Thomas from any ceremony to honor his father might well be proof that he not
only merited a bar sinister but had somehow lost favor with his sire.
    "There
it is!" Eleanor said in a low voice as they entered the parish church.
With a show of strength that both amazed and pleased the sub-infirmarian, the
prioress pulled her friend toward a corner and pointed out a much worn stone.
"This part is so ancient that some believe it dates to Queen Guinevere's
death. Others say Queen Elfrida ordered it set as the cornerstone of her new
abbey when she presented the relics of Saint Melor. It is his feast day we
shall celebrate.
    Suddenly
she fell silent, gesturing to Anne to do the same.
    At
the nearby altar, a young woman knelt, sobbing as if her heart had been
shattered with grief.
    Chapter
Ten
    "My
name is Alys," the girl said, wiping her cheeks dry with her fingers.
"I live with my widowed mother in Amesbury village, just beyond the bridge
in a house near the inn."
    "Come
walk in the nearby garden," Eleanor said. "Your prayers must have
drawn us to you. Speaking of your sadness might give you some ease."
    Although
her look lacked any disdain, Alys' expression reflected much doubt.
    Eleanor
read the look well. "No cloister ever put a wall around a woman's heart,
and surely I have been on this earth only a few summers longer than you. I
might understand your plight." Her laughter was soft with caring.
    The
young woman had the grace to blush. "I meant no discourtesy, Sister."
    "Nor
did I think otherwise. This is Sister Anne. I am called Eleanor. We are both
members of this Order but not of this priory, rather visitors from another
daughter house on the coast near Norwich." She gestured in the direction
of the priory gates. "Anything you wish to say leaves Amesbury with
us."
    "Your
words are sweet like balm on a wound, Sister Eleanor, but the cause of my grief
is well known." Another tear crested in the corner of the young woman's
eye. "You have not heard the news, methinks, but a man was found murdered
outside this priory." With firm determination, she tossed her head to
chase any tears back. "The man so cruelly slaughtered was my uncle,
Wulfstan. I was the one to discover his body."
    "God
grant you solace! I heard the story, although not your name until now. We were
horrified. No one in the priory could imagine who might have so hated your
uncle that he was driven to do such a terrible thing."
    "It
must have been Satan's imp. My uncle has no enemies, or rather no more than any
man does who has reached his age. Although my mother claims he is a rude man,
he is always sweet-natured to me."
    Eleanor
noted the young woman's use of the present tense. How we do cling to our loved
ones even as Death drags their souls away, she thought.
    Tears
resumed their course down Alys' cheeks. "I weep for his son, my cousin, as
well. Sayer must be bitter with grief for he had quarreled with his father just
the other night. My uncle is quick to anger but does not stay so for
long." She sobbed, then resolutely faced what had happened. "The time
was too short, and they were never able to make peace!"
    "I
pray your cousin will find consolation. Surely the argument was minor and soon
forgotten?"
    Alys
brightened a bit. "I do not