A Twisted Vengeance

“Surely you saw a few of them when he stayed in your father’s house in Northumberland? He always traveled with two or more. You don’t remember them?”

“I remember he came with others, but I never took note of them. I understand why he traveled with them. But once he was back in Strasbourg, what was the need? Did he continue to travel after he wed Mother?”

Griffin ran a calloused hand through his hair. “It is not my place to speak of Ulrich Smit and Dame Eleanor.”

“She has requested your silence?”

“Not in so many words.”

He reached up as if to rake his hair once more. She caught his hand, turned it palm up, studied the calluses.

“You’re an archer.”

“I am Welsh.”

She glanced up, caught his grin, and laughed. “So you are. Do you have your bow and quiver with you?”

“At my lodgings.”

“Bring them back with you when you fetch your things.”

“Is that an invitation? I’ve hesitated to ask if I might join you at practice. I would enjoy that.”

His hand grew warm in hers. A nice hand. Dry. Strong. She let it go and thanked him again for not mentioning the men who had followed her on the street. “You might do something for me,” she said, shifting the topic.

“Yes?”

“The Earl of Westmoreland’s men at the maison dieu. They will be relieved at some point.”

“I have seen them often, here and elsewhere in the city.”

“I would like to know where the two lodge.”

He bowed. “I will follow them when they are relieved.” Opening the door, he glanced back. “Does this mean you trust me?”

“We shall see.”

He nodded and took his leave.

Time to clear her head. From the cupboard near the hearth she plucked her bow and a quiver of arrows. Taking it as a signal, Lille and Ghent rose and shook themselves. Together they went out into the garden.

Sister Dina’s was a small, stuffy room despite a shutter being slightly ajar. Eleanor opened it wide for a moment, appreciating the pleasant prospect, Thomas Holme’s gardens tumbling down the slope to the river Foss. But the summer afternoon offered little breeze, certainly not enough to risk the danger of inviting access. Though the window was high in the wall, a determined intruder might easily climb with the help of the vine growing up the side of the building and drop into the room. Eleanor remembered a time when Ulrich … She shook her head against the unwelcome memory and closed the shutters. Sir Elric’s men guarded the maison dieu. Sister Dina was safe here. But once she woke, Eleanor would insist she return to the Martha House. And then what would Sir Elric’s guards do? She smiled to think what her daughter might say about their presence across the hedgerow. There was something between Katherine and their captain, she could see it.

Eleanor shifted the high-backed chair in such wise that Sister Dina might see her and recognize her on waking, and close enough that she might hear her prayer. Settling, she drew out her paternoster, shaking out the silver and pearl beads. Bowing her head, she began a silent prayer to calm her thoughts, draw her heart to the place from which she might reach out to Sister Dina, touch her suffering with her own. In the background, sisters quietly called to one another in the hall as they went about their duties, a cart rattled past on Castlegate, a dog barked; not her daughter’s great beasts. Katherine – had Eleanor any hope of regaining her trust? She had taken the news more calmly than Eleanor had expected … She shook herself. It was not the time for those thoughts.

Softly she began to say Hail Marys aloud, watching Sister Dina’s sharp-featured face for a sign of awareness. After two or three rounds, the beguine’s eyelids flickered, but nothing more.

“Blessed Mary, Mother of God, pray for me, a sinner, that I might make amends,” Eleanor murmured. “I see now that I have been a willful, heedless creature. When Ulrich died and I learned – But I do not need to tell you what I learned, our all-seeing Mother. When I understood the depth of his betrayal, and my part in it, I prayed for a sign of how I might redeem myself, how I might atone for my sins. You brought me Sister Dina, a beguine, a sempster fitting me for my mourning clothes, a woman radiating such comforting grace that I begged her to tell me how she came to be so. Sweetly she shared with me the words of Meister Eckhart, his sermons of love, compassion, the light within, the Mother’s grace. ‘Love is nothing else in itself than God.’ As long as I love, I am on the right path.” Remembering herself, Eleanor glanced behind her to check that she was not overheard by anyone but Dina. It would not do to speak of Meister Eckhart in Magistra Matilda’s hearing. Eleanor did not need a rumor spreading that her beguines were heretics.

She bent close to Dina, looking for a sign that she heard, remembered. Sister Dina had consoled Eleanor and given her hope when she had resigned herself to damnation, certain there was no path to redemption. Did she remember? Did she regret her kindness? Dina gave no sign. Eleanor spoke a few more Hail Marys, then prayed for the beguine, prayed for forgiveness for drawing her away from the safety of Strasbourg. “May God smite me for plucking this good woman from her home and putting her in harm’s way.”