The Prioress’ Tale by Tale Prioress' Read Free Book Online Page A

girl been thinking of, to let herself be carried off like that?
    Nor was there any use in pretending that it would be enough, when her people came for her, to show, even on Aunt Eleanor’s witness, that no harm had come to her. They would want more recompense than words, and if they wanted it from both Reynold and St. Frideswide’s, then she would have the priory’s share out of Reynold’s hide.
    More problems. More expenses.
    She took her place at the head of the long refectory table and bleakly watched her nuns, still jay-jabbering among themselves, ease into their places along benches down both sides. The dull ache that seemed to be always at the back of her skull of late had a noticeable throb to it now, and not wanting their voices keeping it company through supper, she impatiently whacked her spoon on the tabletop, startling them to silence.
    According to the Rule, they were supposed to be read aloud to at meals, something holy, to better their souls when they might otherwise be too concentrated on their bodies, with each of them taking a week’s turn at it, turn and turn around. No one much listed anymore. They had all heard the priory’s few books too many times already, could have recited them without looking if they put their minds to it, probably, but tonight, for a change, they could actually pay heed and keep their mouths for chewing instead of talking.
    “Dame Perpetua,” she said. “Read.” Making it both an order to Dame Perpetua and a warning to the rest.
    Sister Cecely, already leaning toward Sister Emma, mouth open to speak, jerked upright in her place, startled. The others cast warning glances at each other and held silent, even Dame Perpetua, until Alys jerked a hand at her to get on with it. Nervously, with an uneasy glance at the silent faces turned her way, Dame Perpetua did, taking up the Life of St. Katherine where she had left off at dinner’s end, with yet another of the emperor’s threats against her life if she did not marry him. Alys, satisfied, rang the small bell at her place to tell the serving women to bring in the meal.
    The first of them to come, apparently disconcerted by the sound of only Dame Perpetua’s voice, hesitated uncertainly on the threshold. Alys gestured sharply to set her in motion again and the rest followed quickly enough, some setting the bowls of white pottage and the last third of each nun’s daily bread loaf at their places, others pouring warmed ale into the waiting goblets.
    As they began to eat, Dame Perpetua reached the saint’s defiance of the emperor’s last offer to let her live. “ ‘No! Do not delay my dying further, king, but command it speedily! It is not appalling to see a thing fall that will rise a thousand times fairer, ascend from sorrow to everlasting laughter, from grief to every joy, from death to undying life!”“
    Mopping a piece of bread into the pottage, Alys nodded in full agreement. St. Katherine had been a woman able to show men up for the fools they were and refuse their stupidities to their faces. The end had been what could be expected—they had killed her to stop her because nothing else would. But that was how martyrs were made, and by St. Katherine’s blessed bones, it was a better way to go than giving in to them and all their kind—the folly-ridden cousins and pushing abbots and bullying master masons.
    Alys’ head gave a deeper throb. In her rage at Reynold she had managed to forget that Master Porter, the master mason, had been at her again this afternoon about when his men would have their money, but he would not stay forgot, unfortunately.
    Or stay unpaid. Unfortunately.
    She had set his ears back flat against his head right enough this time, demanding back at him what use had he and his men for money out here at the priory, away from everywhere, anyway? Pay them now and they would likely be off to Banbury and into trouble. Let them finish what they had started and then they would have their money in hand and