The prior summoned Brother Robert next.He was a robust and jovial fellow with black hair and merry blue eyes.He definitely had the stamina to be an outlaw.
When she asked him for a story, the one that came to mind made him chortle with glee.When he spoke, it was difficult to compare his voice to the one she’d heard at Dunlop, because his mood was vastly different.
“I once sat at the bedside of a man who claimed he’d ne’er confessed his sins.Naturally, he wanted to do so, knowin’ he hadn’t long to live.So I offered to listen.”The monk’s speech was punctuated by snickers and chuckles.“He went on for half a day, listin’ every wrongful act he’d done.Every hound he’d kicked.Every kiss he’d stolen.Every instance he’d labored on the Sabbath.Faith, ye’d have thought he was an outlaw bound for hell for all the ‘crimes’ he’d committed.But just when I thought he’d finished up, and I rose to go, he remembered a dozen other sins.I sat back down, and he told me about the innocent dragon he’d slain while the beast was asleep.”He roared with laughter.“Then he told me how he’d wrongly accused his sister o’ being a changelin’, stolen the eggs from a gryphon, wounded the water beast o’ Loch Ness, and fornicated with a selkie…in rather great detail.”He guffawed at that.
Carenza blushed.She didn’t know what to say.
Then Brother Robert’s laughter died out.“The truth was the fellow likely hadn’t anyone to stay with him.He feared if he didn’t keep me entertained with his colorful confessions, I’d leave him alone.”He shook his head.“I wouldn’t have.What else has a monk to do?”
“’Twas good o’ ye to stay with him.”
She wondered if Brother Robert had enjoyed the man’s salacious confessions as much as the man had enjoyed sharing them.He seemed too good-humored to engage in serious theft.On the other hand, he did reveal a rather careless attitude toward the dying man’s soul, and if he shared the same unconcern for the sacred treasures of a monastery…
Brother William was her last interview.His countenance was somber and withdrawn.He made no eye contact, nor did he smile or speak.
He gave her mostly one-word answers, and only when she asked him to relate a story did his eyes awaken with interest.His voice, like the others, was unrecognizable as the man who’d spoken with Peris.
“I remember my first vigil,” he said, his gaze focused on the ground, where he seemed to glimpse some distant memory.“’Twas one o’ my fellows.A young lay brother named Liam.Too young and fair for death.”His face took on a melancholy cast.“I held his hand as he lay dyin’.His skin was so pale, like candle wax.When he was awake, he wished to hear Bible verse.But he slept most o’ the time, lookin’ as peaceful as a bairn.His breath would sometimes stop for long intervals and then resume.Almost like heaven and earth were warrin’ o’er him.Then, as evenin’ neared, a rattle started in his chest, and the abbot said ’twas nearly time.But I couldn’t leave him.Even if he’d ne’er wake again, I couldn’t leave him, for fear the Devil, in his jealousy, might snatch up Liam’s beautiful soul ere the angels could convey him to heaven.”His eyes filled with tears.
Carenza placed a consoling hand on his arm, but he withdrew from her touch.She should have expected as much.Monks weren’t used to a woman’s comfort.
“What happened then?”she gently inquired.
“He woke once.And spoke his last words.Then he drifted into death’s arms.”
“What were his last words?”
Brother William sniffed back his tears and whispered, “He said, ‘I’ve always loved ye.’”Then he cleared his throat and finally looked at her, stating adamantly, “The abbot said he was speakin’ to our Lord.”
She gave him a smile of compassion.
She might have said more, but the monastery gates suddenly opened behind her, emitting visitors.
Brother William’s eyes went wide as he blurted, “Is that all, m’lady?”
She nodded, and he hastened toward the dormitory, as if he feared discovery.
When she wheeled around, she was face to face with Father James, flanked by two monks.He peered down at her with stern disapproval.
“What is a woman doing in the cloister?”he asked of no one in particular.
She gave him her most disarming smile.But for once, it didn’t seem to work.
The abbot rushed forward to intervene.“Lady Carenza o’ Dunlop, Father, the laird’s—”
“I know who she is.Why is she inside the monastery walls?”
If Carenza wasn’t already aware that Father James wasn’t a suspect, she would have added him to the list.He’d never been a friend to women.But he seemed unnecessarily severe and hostile today.He was the sort of entitled clergyman who did as he pleased and took what he wanted.Could that include church treasures?
“Father,” the abbot said, “Lady Carenza wished to give the monastery a considerable amount in tithin’.”
“Ah.”Father James’s brows lifted a quarter of an inch.“And has she done so?”
“Aye.”
“Then ’tis time for her to leave.”
Carenza bit back a rude retort.It would do no good to make an enemy of the father.
