Stopping suddenly, Peter gave Mort a wide smile. “I believe I need to meet with the head of the Priory.”
Mort mirrored his expression. “That seems reasonable.”
The two jumped up and nearly ran to knock on the wooden door set within the small entrance. No answer.
Mort glanced nervously toward Peter, his small hands rubbing together. He knocked again, louder. No answer.
“Perhaps they are out of earshot?” he asked.
Peter looked around the small area. “It doesn’t look big enough to ever be beyond earshot.”
He went as far as he could within the bailey. The building had thick, impenetrable walls and small towers at every advantage point. There was a long building, just visible that connected to the back.
“This place is built to resist attack,” Peter said.
“Many Priories and Monasteries are.”
Frowning, Peter gave an irritated look to the little man who then raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m just saying it is not unusual for them to be well fortified.”
“It would be near impossible to break through the wall without a battering ram.”
“Are you making plans to attack, my lord?”
Peter blew an exasperated sigh then retraced his steps. They seemed to be taking an awfully long time. He settled himself on the bench and counted to ten.
“I think I hear someone,” Mort said from where he had his ear to the wooden door.
He quickly shifted away. Peter stood alongside him.
The door opened just enough to reveal Martha’s face. “I’m sorry you can’t be entering.”
“I need to speak with the Prioress.”
“The who?”
Peter’s throat went dry. “The Prior?” He searched beyond the head of the little woman but could only make out a darkened hall behind her.
“Oh, you mean Father Tinsley? He is not here now. He won’t be back until later.”
His body tensed. His fingers flexed. “Then I would speak to Brighit.”
Certainly she wouldn’t wish to be left here without all the details worked out. Peter didn’t know any of the details but until she indicated to him that all was well, he would prefer to stay near.
“Can’t.”
Peter leveled his gaze at the woman, his jaw clenched. Mort pushed in a little closer and Peter gave him room. Martha, however, resisted the slight push he gave against the door. “Please. We would like to see Lady Brighit to know what she wants us to do.”
“She wants you to leave.”
“NO!” Peter didn’t regret his forceful tone. He was about ready to rip the door down. The four straps holding the door in place appeared quite sliceable. Not very good planning on their part. “I will see Lady Brighit.”
The woman shoved the door against his boot when he started to slip it inside. Pain shot up his leg.
“Lady Brighit is no longer here.”
“WHAT?” his voice boomed. His fingers gripped the width of the wooden door, preparing to pull it lose.
“She has a new name within these walls.”
