“We are all wet, tired, and hungry. See to it, Father.”
The abbot nodded, his mouth a tight, thin line, and turned to his cowled brothers. His thin face was red, the pulse pounding in his neck, just beside that speck of blood. Hastings saw him cuff one of the brothers. She said, staring at the holy man who had so carelessly struck another, “Is that true, Severin? Women are kept separate? They are not treated well? I did not know this.”
Severin only shrugged. “It would not matter if the weather were warm and the sun bright in the sky. But in this dampness, you would surely become ill. I want you out of those wet clothes. Come along.”
“Why is this a rule, Severin?”
“I have been told that the Church still debates whether or not a woman even has a soul. Think on that, Hastings. If you don’t have a soul, then you should be forbidden the company of God’s perfect male creatures. You are not worthy. You are no better than an animal, at least in God’s eyes.”
“That is very strange. Father Carreg never said any of this to me.”
“Father Carreg isn’t stupid. He probably believed you would make his bowels watery if he preached such a thing at Oxborough. But this is usually the way of things. It was my mother who told me of this. Travelers are welcome at religious houses, but women are to be set aside because the priests believe they will taint the very sacred air with their wickedness.”
She looked perplexed until she smiled, a dimple appearing in her cheek. “I’ve tried to be wicked only with you.”
He laughed, took her hand, and followed the silent brother, who led them to his own cell. Severin left her to change. “I will change with the other men. Dress warmly, Hastings.”
The cell was dry and warm and smelled of sweet rosemary. When she returned to the main dining area, where there were six trestle tables set close together, she inhaled the odor of warm ale, fresh baked bread, and roasted chicken.
“This is not the normal fare for travelers,” Severin said to her. “I have paid dearly for this meal. It had better taste as good as it smells. I told the abbot that the food had to find favor with my wife else I would be displeased. I then touched my fingers to my knife. I enjoyed watching him pale.” He touched his palm to her cheek, then to her forehead. “You are warm to the touch. You feel all right?”
“Oh aye,” she said, and touched him back. “And you, my lord?”
“I believe,” he said slowly, looking down at her, “that if you continue as you are, all the brothers will gnaw their knuckles in the throes of lust. I promised the abbot that he was to think of you as just another man, a castrato, perhaps.”
She giggled and raised her voice to a high, squeaky wail, “Very well, then, I can even sing for my dinner. I will not kiss you, but I want to, Severin. Your mouth pleases me.”
“Stop it, Hastings. Ah, our meal is ready.”
Hastings said after she bit into a chicken wing, “Don’t stick your dagger through the abbot’s neck, ’tis well enough prepared.”
After dinner, Hastings checked all of the men. Tabar, one of the Oxborough men-at-arms, was overly warm, his chest heavy. Hastings mixed him a potion of warm milk and gentian and watched him drink it down. “Now, chew these columbine leaves if your throat becomes sore. Keep yourself warm, Tabar. Sleep close to the other men. Their body warmth will help.”
One of the brothers, a small, wiry man with great purity of expression, came to her after she gave Tabar the herbs. His look was furtive. “I have a toothache, my lady. The tooth looks healt
hy, but it must be rotting from the inside. Have you perhaps anything that would help me?”
“Aye, Father. Mix these ground delphinium seeds into a mug of wine or ale. It will relieve you. But the tooth must be pulled, Father. If it pains you, it cannot be long until it will cause you such agony that you must pull it.”
“Aye, I know it, but I am a coward. I would wait until the pain drives me into delirium. Then one of the other brothers could draw it for me.”
Suddenly, the abbot was there. “You come to this woman? You speak to her? You take the Devil’s evil potions from her?” He knocked the packet of delphinium seeds to the floor.
The brother looked ready to cry out his misery. He stared down at the scattered delphinium seeds beside his sandaled feet. “Father Michael,” he whispered, “it is just a small thing for the pain in my tooth. The lady does nothing evil.”
“What she gave you would produce evil visions in your sleep, Brother. You would dream of the flesh of women and this dream would corrupt you.”
Hastings didn’t say anything, but it was difficult. She wanted to kick the abbot. She wished he had the toothache. She wondered if he would suffer silently or chance dreaming of her.
“Come,” Severin said quietly, walking to her. “You can do nothing for the brother. No, don’t argue. The brother is a member of this order. He must follow the rules.”
He took her hand when she lagged, looking back at the poor brother who was holding his palm to his cheek. He pulled and she had to skip to keep up with his long strides.
“I do not wish to fluster the poor brothers. We will lie together as would a brother and his sister.” No sooner had they settled themselves in blankets on the narrow cot in the brother’s cell than there came a yell from the great hall.
Severin, whose hand had been on Hastings’s breast, cursed, leapt to his feet, and pulled on his clothes. Sword in hand, he was gone within moments.
When Hastings came into the great hall, a blanket wrapped around her, there was the poor brother whose tooth had been paining him on his knees on the stone floor. He was moaning and pressing his hands against his jaw. Blood was dripping through his fingers. The abbot stood over him, holding the tooth in his hand, looking grim and pleased. “It is done. Whine no more.”