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tower until he begged his father to take him to the chapel. Arriving at the door, Giles had ripped away his remaining rags and plunged naked into a bed of stinging nettles. The priest had exorcised Satan from the young man's writhing body, after which Giles had fallen into a deep sleep and, when he awoke, claimed ignorance of all that had transpired in bed with Thomas.
     
    Now cleansed of evil, Giles had walked barefooted to a nearby shrine in penance and in gratitude. Shortly thereafter, he was married to an old and wealthy widow of his father's choosing. Thomas' jailers recounted this last news in especially ribald detail just outside his prison door. The onetime rape he might have endured, swearing to castrate the man in good time. The tauntings were only words even his dulled wits could match, but these jailers could not have chosen a better torture than this tale to bring him to his knees, whimpering like a beaten dog, in grief for his friend.
     
    Why Thomas hadn't been burned at the stake was still a mys tery to him. Perhaps it was his father's doing. Perhaps it was some bishop who had benefited from his murmured advice. Whatever, he had wanted to die by the time he was finally wrenched from his prison bed of rotten straw, rat feces, and his own filth. The brightness of forgotten sunlight had seared his eyes, and the encrusted chains had rubbed his bloody ankles to a point beyond pain. He would have begged for death, had he not lost his voice in a world where darkness made a mockery of human speech.
     
    Although the tonsure would suggest the man was from the Church, Thomas had no idea of the somber one's identity as he sat in the wardens room and silently examined the disgusting wretch Thomas had become. Whoever the man was, he had quickly ordered a stool brought for Thomas to sit on and some watered wine for his rusted throat.
     
    "I have a proposition for you," the black-robed man had said, his voice undistinguished by any particular tone.
     
    Thomas had stared at him.
     
    "A slow death at the stake and your soul condemned to Hell..."
     
    Thomas blinked.
     
    "...or your sins forgiven in return for becoming a priest with unquestioning obedience to a master whom you will never meet."
     
    Thomas said nothing.
     
    "Do you hear me?"
     
    Thomas dipped his head.
     
    "Do you understand the choice?"
     
    Thomas nodded.
     
    "And?"
     
    "The Church," Thomas whispered. "I know Hell and wish no more of it."
     
    And so they had cut the chains from his flesh, bathed his filth-dyed and rat-bitten body, put poultices on the worst of his festering wounds and shaved a monks tonsure on his head. When he was strong enough, they trained him further in priestly rites and draped chastity, poverty, and obedience over his head with a monks rough habit.
     
    But Thomas didn't mind what he had been forced to swear.
     
    He only minded forswearing Giles.
     
    And who, with such sadistic humor, had chosen the penitential Giles to lead the ravaged Thomas to Tyndal Priory and leave him like an abandoned child to be encloistered with monks under the rule of women?
     
    Thomas hoped he never found out.
     
    Thomas rang the bell, then turned and looked down the road. There was nothing to see, not even settling dust, but Thomas continued to stare into the distance as tears slipped down his cheeks. Shamed at his weakness, he wiped them away but bowed his head as the ache of grief burst into his hollowed-out heart. The pain would linger for a long, long time.
     
    The sound of the heavy wooden door opening on its metal hinges caused him to turn around. In front of him was a small monk of indeterminate age with deep blue eyes and a head so bald a tonsure was unneeded.
     
    "Thanks be to God! And welcome to Tyndal Priory, brother," the man said with ritual greeting and a deep bow. "I am Brother Andrew."
     
    Chapter Six
     
    "We will, of course, handle the problem of our poor brother's body, my child... ah, my lady. Please don't worry yourself