Read The Sanctity of Hate for Free Online

deep a gouge.”
    “I saw it, my lady,” Thomas said, “but concluded it might have been made at any time.”
    Eleanor stood. “In that, I would agree, for this is a well-worn path, but we had a heavy summer downpour late the day before last. Gytha said that kept her from returning earlier. This print is both distinct and deep which suggests it was recently made when the earth was still wet.”
     
    “Few would step off the path after that rain. The mud would be slippery and a misstep might cause someone to fall into the water,” Anne replied.
    The prioress considered the possibilities in that, then shook her head. “A man might slip into the pond and drown but not slit his throat while doing it.”
    “That patch.” Thomas bent down and sketched a wide circle above the spot with his hand. “I think the killer and Kenelm struggled there. In fact, I’d say those were heel marks near the footprint.”
    Eleanor frowned. “Or else the body was dragged off the path. See those marks over there. Yet we cannot prove whether a fight occurred or something quite benign.”
    “I think he was killed here. That patch of blood would suggest it.” Thomas walked to the edge of the bank and looked into the water. “It is not far from here to the mill wheel.”
    “We must tell Ralf about this,” Anne said. “If Cuthbert has found no stronger evidence upstream to prove where Kenelm went into the water, the sergeant might not have to look further than this place.”
    “I have sent Brother Beorn to seek out our crowner.” Shading her eyes, Eleanor gazed down the path. The gate into the priory was not far from the mill, allowing villagers to carry their grain with ease from the road that passed by.
    She frowned and turned to the sub-infirmarian. “You have looked at Kenelm’s corpse. If the murder took place here, so close to the mill, surely the dead body would have been found sooner. Ralf thinks the body was in the water for a couple of days. Might the death have occurred outside our priory as he believes?”
    “I agree with Ralf about the length of time the body was in the water. Although there were cuts on Kenelm’s face, our crowner did not see the ones on his back. I cannot be sure about the cause, but they could mean his body was trapped by something underwater and only went over the mill wheel when the current finally pulled it loose.”
     
    “Might those hidden marks have been caused by a fight?” “The ones on his face perhaps,” the nun replied, “but the
    scrapes on his back suggest that something large hit him several times. If the body was trapped under the wheel, that would explain those wounds.”
    “We must ask why anyone would kill another here.” Thomas looked around. “It is a crime only the impious or the mad would commit.”
    They fell silent, and Eleanor felt cold despite the hot day.
    The monk was right, and she feared the answer.
    Tyndal Priory had suffered violence within its walls before, but surely God’s servants had given Him no cause to curse them again. She required all her monks and nuns to obey the Rule on diet, labor, and prayer. The priory was respected for charity given and vows kept. Her own private transgressions she acknowledged and did hard penance. All mortals sinned, but, as far as she knew, her religious were no worse than those in other pious communities. Why must this priory endure so much bloodshed?
    As if to belie the gravity of blood spilled on sacred ground, peace felt as tangible to Eleanor as this dense heat. She looked up at the sky. A growing number of clouds scudded overhead, hint- ing that another summer cloudburst was imminent. Birdsong was muted. Leaves rustled briefly as a sudden gust of sea breeze brought a hint of coolness down from the northern regions. If God were so angry, wouldn’t He would give her some sign, something to point out the offense that must be corrected?
    The prioress looked back at her two companions, regretting the question she must