A Killing Season
“The high howling wind from the single window grew soft as if ordered to respect this penitent’s remorse. Even the flickering light from the rushes, brought by a servant and set into wall brackets, exposed only delicate shadows against the walls.
The prioress began to sob.
A woman’s hand gently touched her shoulder. “Shall I summon Brother Thomas?” Sister Anne whispered as she knelt. Her breath was soft on the prioress’ ear.
Raising her head, Eleanor rubbed her cheeks dry. “Nay,” she... murmured, banishing all future tears and further evidence of sorrow. She turned to the sub-infirmarian with a weary look.
“I have stood outside the chapel door since you entered,” Anne said. “No one has approached to disturb your prayers.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Since you spoke with Sir Leonel and our monk.”
Eleanor clutched her hands to her chest and groaned.MoreLess
The prioress began to sob.
A woman’s hand gently touched her shoulder. “Shall I summon Brother Thomas?” Sister Anne whispered as she knelt. Her breath was soft on the prioress’ ear.
Raising her head, Eleanor rubbed her cheeks dry. “Nay,” she... murmured, banishing all future tears and further evidence of sorrow. She turned to the sub-infirmarian with a weary look.
“I have stood outside the chapel door since you entered,” Anne said. “No one has approached to disturb your prayers.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Since you spoke with Sir Leonel and our monk.”
Eleanor clutched her hands to her chest and groaned.MoreLess
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