The Prioress’ Tale by Tale Prioress'

look at one another. They did not have to see the tears running silently down Sister Cecely’s cheeks to be reminded what the wrong word could cost them. Slowly, first Dame Juliana’s head and then one by one the rest made their nods of agreement. Satisfied, Domina Alys raised her hand to bless them before dismissing them, only to be interrupted by a scratching at the door.
    “What?” she demanded, and Katerin, set daily to watch the cloister’s outer door—and sweep the cloister walk while she did—should anyone come while all the nuns were shut away in chapter meeting, put her head hesitantly in and said in her uncertain way, “Master Naylor. He’s asking to speak to you.”
    “Now?” Domina Alys did not try to hide her displeasure.
    Katerin nodded, watching Domina Alys’ face like a dog eager to be told which way to go. Domina Alys flicked a dismissing hand at her. “Tell him to wait. I’m almost done here.”
    Katerin shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “He wants to come in now. To chapter. He says.”
    “Does he?” Domina Alys’ displeasure visibly deepened.
    Roger Naylor was the priory’s steward, charged with overseeing the priory’s properties and the worldly matters necessary to sustain its spiritual life. He had done well enough with Domina Edith, each of them granting the other’s particular and separate skills so that they had worked together in equal respect toward the same end, St. Frideswide’s well-being.
    He and Domina Alys had come to lack that shared respect, neither of them wanting to hear what the other had to say, so that his meetings with her had become infrequent and, Frevisse gathered, unsatisfactory. She could not remember when he had last asked to be heard in chapter meeting and doubted Domina Alys would allow it. Too much of what she suspected their prioress was trying to keep from them might come out if he did.
    To her surprise, Domina Alys said impatiently, “Bid him come, then. Let’s be done with him.”
    Nor did she have time to change her mind and dismiss them before he came. He must have been waiting barely beyond the door, because Katherin hardly disappeared before she was back with him, standing aside to let him enter, making a quick curtsy to Domina Alys and shutting the door behind her as she retreated. Master Naylor crossed to Domina Alys and bowed, first to her and then to the rest of them before looking her full in the face.
    He was never a man much given to smiling, but today he looked more grim than usual. Although stewards were proverbially said to be greed-ridden, Frevisse had always found him a fair-minded man, careful of both St. Frideswide’s well-being and of the people under him. Now her unease roused toward alarm as he straightened from his bow and said abruptly, “Good day, my lady. Could you give me some guess as to how long your cousin and his men are going to be here?”
    “As long as need be,” Domina Alys returned as abruptly. “Beyond that it’s none of your concern, Master Naylor.”
    “It is if their score and more of horses are eating up the priory’s hay at a rate that will leave us beggared of it before Lent and some of the cattle having to be slaughtered because of it while our own horses starve.”
    “God will provide,” Domina Alys snapped.
    “God helps those who help themselves,” Master Naylor returned curtly.
    Frevisse could not stop her own indrawn gasp at his discourtesy, and she was not alone. A ripple of alarm passed among all the women while Domina Alys stared at him, momentarily wordless, before she surged to her feet and thrust her face toward his own as she spat back, “You’d best remember, Master Naylor, that you’re here to do what I tell you to do and keep your mouth closed unless I tell you to open it! My cousin and his men and what they do is my concern, not yours!”
    “Then you had best be more concerned about them than you are!” he answered.
    There were more gasps among the women, and Domina Alys,