A Twisted Vengeance

Brigida looked from one to the other as Kate shook her head. “Do you think it was him? That Dina surprised Nan’s lover coming into the kitchen?”

“Nan said that it was the one night he had not appeared at her mother’s house,” said Kate. “But it is dangerous to judge when we know so little. I am hoping she fled to her house. I need to talk to Berend before the sheriffs’ man arrives, ask him to go see if Nan is there.”

Kate paused a moment, observing the men arriving for work in the small warehouse that sat on the corner of Hertergate and Castlegate. The warehouse was managed by John Paris, the employer of Agnes’s late husband, Leonard. He lived across the alley from the Martha House, and, as Kate had learned yesterday, at one time entertained Agnes in the guesthouse. “But first, I’d like to know whether there is a night watchman in the warehouse.” She lifted a hand in greeting to one of the men and strolled over to the adjoining yard to talk to him.

Eleanor stood on the landing, observing the unexpected visitors. The two black-mantled friars stood before the small altar that held a statue of the Blessed Mother, which she and the beguines had dressed in colorful silks, the table draped with an altar cloth embroidered with motifs from the life of the mother of Christ. Offerings from the sisters lay at the Virgin’s feet – delicate shells, stones, and other precious objects. Framed by the painted walls, the altar was the colorful center – indeed, the heart – of the hall. The friars’ dark mantles and white robes looked out of place before it.

One of them was elderly, large but stooped, the other a stocky young man. The elder picked at the offerings on the altar with clawlike hands speckled with age spots, pursing his lips, drawing his wrinkles downward. Sour old man, Eleanor thought. Who was he to disapprove their sincere devotion? She cleared her throat and descended the steps.

As the subject of her distaste turned toward her, she saw that his eyes were milky with age and wondered whether he could even see the items he’d handled. How had he known they were there? His companion? The other was young, barely past his novitiate, Eleanor guessed, with a cherubic face marred by a dark red birthmark that splashed his left cheek and forehead. He leaned close now to whisper something in his elder’s ear. Yes, that was his role, he was his master’s guide. And just as lacking in courtesy.

The elder smiled on Eleanor, bowing and offering a blessing. “Benedicite, Mistress Smit.” One might almost doubt that he was blind, he aimed his sightless gaze so naturally. She guessed he had not always been blind.

“Mistress Clifford. Smit is such an ugly name. But I prefer Dame Eleanor.”

“My pardons, Dame Eleanor. I am Friar Adam, of the Dominican house of St. Mary Magdalene. I am answering your call for a cleric to guide your poor sisters.”

She gave him a slight bow, though only his companion could see it. Answering her call, was he? She had made no public request. Not so hasty, you ill-tempered friar. She cleared her throat. “Beguines, not poor sisters. They go out into the world and earn their keep as well as caring for the people of the city. Welcome to my Martha House, Friar Adam, and …?” She gazed pointedly at the younger man.

“This is Friar Walter – my eyes, as it were,” said Adam.

“And Friar Walter.” She nodded to the young man. “You are his eyes and he is your mouth?” She chuckled. “Be easy, I pray you. We all walk the path of love, as revealed by the teachings of Christ, our Savior. Love is a happy virtue.”

“Beguines.” Friar Adam sniffed. “You would do well to remember His Holiness Pope Clement condemned them as heretics.”

It was Eleanor’s turn to sniff. This sneering, sniveling toad of a friar would not do for her Martha House. But she must extend the sisters the courtesy of allowing them to meet him and come to their own decision. She was confident they would see his closed mind and follow her in deeming him unsuitable. “Sisters Clara, Brigida, and Dina do not presume to preach but confine themselves to good works. I should like them to meet you. Unfortunately you have arrived as they are attending mass at St. Mary’s. Might I offer you refreshments while you wait?” She signaled to Rose to fetch a tray.

“You are most kind, Dame Eleanor.” No longer smiling, Friar Adam pressed a hand to his heart. “May God bring peace to this household.”

“I have found immense peace in the company of the beguines. While we wait, I might ask your advice in bringing a new sister into the household.”

“This would be Agnes Dell?”

“You are quite knowledgeable about us, considering none of this information comes from me. I believe you owe me the courtesy of telling me how you came to know so much – that I sought a confessor for the house, and that Agnes Dell had asked to join the sisters.”

“I have the honor of being Dame Isabella Frost’s confessor.”

“Dame Isabella. Yes. I see.” Oh dear me, of course, how did I not guess? This officious creature would appeal to that tiresome woman. Eleanor folded her hands. “And Agnes Dell?”