I doubt Hilda will ever again greet fellow mortals on this earth.” Mistress Maud stood back from the pallet where the cook lay, her breath almost imperceptible. Looking down at the body, which had quickly become little more than a frail mortal shell eager to release a struggling soul, Eleanor nodded understanding. She might wish the outcome to be otherwise, but she had asked Brother Thomas to give the last rites. “You have known her long?” The prioress’ voice was soft with sympathy. “I have. She is a good woman. I never believed she killed Tobye.” “You do not think she lusted after the man and grew jealous enough to strike out?” “Oh, she itched for him but, as sins go, hers were trifling enough. Was she jealous?” Maud’s smile was cheerless. “Most likely, but she would have sooner wept over it than turned to murder. Women may dream, my lady, but men either seize what they want or destroy what they can’t have.”
