'He's called Brother Simon and he's the King's Investigator.’
'Sounds impressive.’
'It isn't.’
'Well, it doesn't mean anything to me. What's he look like?’
'A weasel.’
'Hmm?’ Brother Snod pondered. 'A bit more, perhaps?’
'He's a sneaky, shifty, weasel-faced cretin of a man. He has all the brains of a goat and smells like one as well. That's because he is the offspring of his mother's fornication with the runt of the flock. He is a deceitful, self-serving, underhanded sycophant who would sell his own grandmother for the chance to suck up to the third son of a second-rate noble. If his grandmother could be persuaded to own up to having anything to do with him, that is.’ Athan paused for breath, and the colour of his face darkened.
'He is a creeping, slimy, crawling thing who has no more right to walk the surface of the earth than this bug.’ Athan stamped with vigour on a beetle who just happened to be passing. 'He is not fit to wipe the soles of the feet of beggars, who have just walked through a dung heap, on their way to the annual stinking feet contest at Wickham.’
Snod's mouth opened once, but he clearly thought better of interrupting.
'He's a worm.’ Athan was now almost screaming and Snod was backing off slightly. The poor monk looked around as if expecting some aid to come his way. Other Brothers who were nearby backed off completely.
'He is less than a worm, he is a worm's armpit. At least worms have some use. He is a destroyer of all that is good in the world. He takes men of worth and value and casts them aside as if they were nose droppings, simply to assuage an inflated view of his own importance. He is a crook and a liar and deserves to be roasted for eternity in the burning, fiery furnace.’ Athan was rising to a crescendo now and Snod had a very worried look on his face.
Several other Brothers poked their heads around the walls they had hidden behind to watch the display. And perhaps to sympathise with Snod. And perhaps not.
'He was put on earth by the Serpent himself to wreak destruction on all that is good and true. And to do so in such a manner that the hatred of the entire human race is poured upon his head in a stream of filth from the very arse of the creator, without end.’ Athan finished with a scream and took several deep breaths as he recovered himself.
Snod looked around the area at the watching faces.
'Er,' he said, pointing very carefully, 'is that him?’
Just at this moment Simon came around a corner with Wat, Hermitage and Chirk.
'Yes!' Athan yelled in triumph, and made straight for the Investigator with no good will in his heart. The distance between the two men, and the presence of witnesses, acted as some sort of control, however, and Athan's rage was bottled. A bit. He gripped his fists tight to his side and approached the group with what self-control he was capable of.
This gave sufficient time for Simon to hide behind Chirk.
'What?’ said Wat.
'Yes, I know,' said Athan.
'No, I mean what's going on?’ Wat's irritated tone was annoyed with monks and all things monastic.
'Going on?’ said Athan, trying to sound all innocent. He was so successful that he sounded like a ferret trying to persuade a rabbit to pop out for lunch. 'What could be going on?’ He hid his clenched fists behind his back, but the rage still shone from his face. 'I just need to have a word with the King's Investigator. In private.’
The reaction from Simon said that was the last thing that was going to happen. If it did happen, it probably would be the last thing.
'No, no,' said Wat, still snappy and ignoring the murderous intent of Brother Athan and the rapid cringing of Simon. 'What's this builder doing here?’ he demanded. ‘He says he's come to measure up.’
'What?’ Athan had trouble with this. He stared open mouthed at Wat and looked from one face to the other.
Wat spoke, gestured and made miming movements at the same time.
'This man builder,' Wat gestured at Chirk although there was little need, given the size of the man and the state of his clothing, 'why he here?’
'I'm not an idiot,' Athan said, his attention diverted from Investigator to builder.
'Excellent,' said Wat, 'I'm glad I've found the one person in this place who isn't.’
Watching monks gasped at this impudence and waited for the explosion. It didn't come.
'So why is there a builder here?’ Wat repeated.
'Why does that matter?’ Athan shook the nonsense from his head. He was dismissive of the question. 'We have one dead monk, a King's something or other who probably can't tell a corpse from a copse, and a priest whose death, while not exactly unexpected, is a bit of a bloody coincidence, and you want to know about the builders?’
'It could be important,' Wat said, very deliberately.
'Oh, could it? And what exactly does it have to do with you, Mister Wat? And why exactly are you still here?’ The old Athan was back. He poked Wat in the chest.
There were nods of recognition and anticipation from the watching flock.
'Mister Wat accompanied us from Lincoln,' Hermitage put in, hoping that it would help. It didn't.
'I know,' Athan barked. 'So he's a suspect as well then?’
'Look,' Wat shouted. At Brother Athan. 'All I want to know is what the builder is doing here.’
Athan's familiar annoyance was bubbling to the surface, 'And we want to know why you want to know, and why you want to know.’
Everyone looked very puzzled at this, and there was no immediate answer.
'I've come to measure up,' said Chirk, who seemed to be terribly excited at the prospect.
'Yes, Chirk, we know.’ In the short journey from the gate Hermitage had concluded that there was little point in trying to engage with the builder. There was also little point in getting him to do any building for you, let alone measuring up. He was sure that the man could adequately put one rock on top of another, but that was probably the extent of his value to the world of construction. That he would be able to read his ruler at all was doubtful.
'I need to know,' Wat addressed Athan as he got his head around the question, 'because there is something going on here. Then I need to know because no one else seems to be approaching this matter without having already leaped to their own conclusion in a single bound.’
'It's quite clear what's going on,' Athan said definitively and almost spat at the weaver, 'Brother Ambrosius died and was obviously murdered by this,' he gestured at Hermitage, 'as proved by the fact that he was there at the time. The King's personal do-dah agrees. Father Genly has then died, but he probably just died. That's what's going on and it's nothing to do with you.’
'How come you now think that the King's do-dah agreeing has any value? A moment ago you implied he was useless. And what do you want to see him in private about anyway?’ Wat peered at the two men in turn through slitted eyes.
'A purely personal matter,' Athan said, sounding as aloof as he could. Which still gave the distinct impression that he wanted to do something very personal to the Investigator.
'I don't like coincidences,' Wat said as if this was supposed to explain everything.
'Oh dear,' said Athan, not caring less.
'I don't understand, Mr Wat,' Hermitage said. 'What have the builders got to do with anything?’
'Exactly,' said Athan
Wat sighed as if some child-like explanation was required.
'The tradesmen in Lincoln said that there was a major piece of work about to start out here and they would all be heading this way. Hermitage doesn't know anything about this and he lives here.’
'Funnily enough,' said Athan, 'we tend not to share the long-term plans of the monastery with the least significant members of the community.’
'And no one else knows either,' Wat went on. 'When we get here we find the tent contractor putting the builders' village up. We find Chirk ready to measure up.’
Chirk proudly thrust his ruler forward for all to see and admire.
'I've had a quiet word with several of the monks and none of them know anything about builders either.’
Wat was obviously deeply intrigued by this.
Athan obviously wasn't. 'I really don't see what any of this has to do with anything. Or, and I ask the question again, why it is any of your business. Why don't I just get a couple of my very large Brothers to escort you to the door and make sure that you don't walk back through it again? Or be able to walk anywhere else for that matter?’ Athan relished the prospect.
'It's my business because I bumped into a helpless and rather hopeless monk on the road to Lincoln.’
'I say,' said Hermitage
'Sorry, Hermitage,' said Wat, 'and when I get him home I find that his Brothers in God want to string him up for a crime he quite patently didn't commit.’
'Oh, didn't he?’ said Athan
'Of course he didn't. For one thing he's not capable.’
Hermitage almost butted in with 'oh yes, I am', but realised that it wouldn't be helpful.
'And for another thing, you are too damn keen to see him hang and hang quickly. We've discovered that there were two other Brothers there at the time, but you haven't even attempted to find them and ask what went on. I will agree with you that the King's Investigator appears to be several sorts of fool all at the same time, and so we can't believe anything he says. Which tells a tale in itself. It's almost as if he was selected to simply agree with the right people.’
There was some incoherent muttering from Simon at this grievous insult. He wasn't prepared to take the issue up with the whole group though.
'And then there are the builders,' Wat said, as if this opened up a whole new can of worms.
Chirk felt it was sufficient just to nod towards his ruler at this reference. He looked around at the funny monks who appeared to be even more barking than the average.
Wat hadn't finished trying to get his point over. 'It would be strange enough if we simply had one dead monk and a monastery more than keen to execute one of their own number. But we have two dead monks.’
'One monk and a priest,' Hermitage corrected.
'We have one dead monk, and a priest, and a monastery leadership out for blood, and builders turning up that no one knows about.’
'Good,' said Athan, 'well now that you've got all that off your chest perhaps you can be on your way and leave us to get on with our work.’
'Just a minute.’ Wat wasn't accepting this.
'I don't have to answer your questions, weaver.’ Athan said the last word as if weaving were akin to indecent acts with animals of the forest. Probably dead animals.
'I'd better ask the Abbot then.’
'Ha.’ Athan thought that was really funny.
'No, really,' Wat said, 'it was clear from our last conversation that he has no time for Brother Simon. He released Hermitage and said that he couldn't have killed Ambrosius.’ A revelatory thought crossed his face. 'I wonder if he knows about the builders.’ He asked this in that very sly tone of voice that says 'I know what you're up to'.
'The Abbot is the leader of our community, he knows all there is to know,' Athan said bluntly.
'Hmm.’ Wat wasn't convinced.
'Anyway,' Athan was clearly about to dismiss Wat, 'you have made your views abundantly clear and rest assured that we will give them their due weight when coming to our final conclusion.’ He paused for a very short moment. 'There we are, they've had their due weight. Now, the Investigator and I will retire and consider matters further.’ Athan looked around. 'Where's he gone?’ he screamed.
They all looked around and realised that Brother Simon was nowhere to be seen.
'Find him!' Athan yelled at all of the Brothers who had gathered around for the entertainment. They knew better than to wait for Athan to repeat himself and so they scattered to the corners of the monastery. Looking for someone or other apparently.
Athan himself stomped off leaving Wat, Hermitage and Chirk alone in the quad. The weaver and the monk exchanged looks, which varied from complete confusion at events to sympathy for the idiocy of mankind. There was clearly no point in trying to make sense of this at the moment and so mutual shrugs were exchanged. Hermitage was getting the hang of shrugging.
Chirk looked around him once and then set to measuring up, which he did by holding his ruler up against things, looking at it carefully and muttering before wandering on.
'We really, really need to find Brothers Francis and James,' Wat said eventually.
'I know, but how?’ Hermitage was puzzled, given they had already searched the monastery completely.
'The time has come to use some more direct methods,' Wat said, and winked at Hermitage. Despite the friendly gesture, the young monk felt a bit of a shiver run down his back.
…
Brother Simon's departure had been stealthy and unnoticed. He was a man who didn't want to be found by anyone. As he went, he tried his best to weigh up his options by repeating them out loud. He was even condescending and patronising when he talked to himself.
His wanderings along the corridors brought him with earshot of the routine of the monastery. The sound of a shovel and something soft being dropped into a bucket came round the convoluted turns, and more turns, of the stone.
'Aha, ' he said, 'I shall stop some passing monk and instruct him to accompany me out of the monastery.’ He paused for a thought about the exit. 'If that has to be through the main gate, my guide can negotiate with the gatekeeper, or at least act as some sort of shield. Better still, perhaps there is some secret back door where none of the inmates of this madhouse can obstruct my passage. Perhaps I can order the fellow to accompany me to Lincoln. The person of the King's Investigator must be protected.’
Walking down the passage – with which it was a shame Simon was not familiar, as it contained a number of the better known exit routes – he was brought up by a shadow that seemed to move of its own volition.
'Who's there?’ he called, trying to sound demanding and powerful but achieving neither.
The shadow moved off to his left. It could be some monk about his normal business. It could be a trick of the light. It could some miscreant up to no good. Simon's instincts took over and he went right.
After a few more moments the shadow appeared again, this time in front of him. It was the same shadow. A cowled head, but clearly visible legs. Not a monk in his habit then. The thought of cautiously investigating this apparition, of following it to see what it was didn't even approach Simon's head. He turned on his heels and walked away. Quickly.
Had he bothered to stay and watch he would have seen the shadow throw its hands up in despair and retreat rapidly down the corridor.
More random wanderings amongst the random corridors brought him to a bend around which the shadow was visible once more.
Simon stopped. Perhaps there was more than one shadow. Or it was the same one able to travel through walls. Either way it was after him and running away had done no good.
As he watched with mounting terror the shadow beckoned to him. One dark and withering arm stretched out and slowly called him towards it.
When Simon made no move at all the arm became a bit more impatient, and quickly indicated that Simon should move himself.
Still no movement, and so the shadow stood with hands on hips for a second or two before stamping one foot and beckoning again.
This time Simon moved. Very slowly and reluctantly, but he moved. He didn't really have anywhere else to go. As he approached the shadow it receded down the corridor, leading him on.
This gave Simon some confidence that he wasn't going to be set upon and so he quickened his pace.
He followed around corners and down turnings, the shadow always maintaining its distance but occasionally having to stop while Simon tested whether he was allowed to give up or not. Passing around one last corner, he saw that the shadow had gone.
There didn't seem to be anything particular about this place. It looked exactly the s
ame as every other ghastly spot in this ghastly place. All he wanted was a way out and he cursed himself for being led astray by mysterious shadows.
He paused to get what bearings he could and then heard the hissing noise. It was the sort of hissing noise that only comes from someone who is trying not to attract attention to themselves, but in fact does so admirably simply by hissing, which no one else around them is doing.
'Who's there?’ Simon asked to the walls in general.
'Oy!' one of the walls said and Simon nearly jumped out of his meagre skin as a monk unpeeled himself from the stonework. Even though this man was as grey and pasty as the wall and, like most monks of De'Ath's Dingle, thin enough to fit in the cracks between the stones, Simon was shocked and alarmed.
'Come with me,' the monk said.
'Certainly not,' Simon said. No one accompanied strange monks in dark places. This seemed doubly important in a place like De'Ath's Dingle.
'We know you're hiding,' the monk said, looking shiftily up and down the passage.
'We?’ said Simon in some surprise. One monk in a dark place was risky enough, but two? You could say goodbye to whatever it was you had that they wanted.
'Brother Francis and I,' the strange monk whispered, as if the walls themselves could hear him and would go and tell the Abbot.
Francis? Simon frowned for a moment with some vague recognition. It soon passed.
'Have you been following me? Or leading me rather?’
'What?’ the monk looked very shocked at this. 'We haven't moved. What have you seen?’
'The shadow of a man kept appearing on the wall. Of course, I chased after it to see what was going on.’
The monk wailed. 'You've seen the cowled shadow.’
'Well, it was a cowled shadow, I suppose.’
'Dead are those who see the cowled shadow.’
'I'm not dead.’
'Not yet you're not. The cowled shadow appears around the monastery. Some say it's the spirit of one of the builders of the place. Buried under his own masonry in some hideous accident, and left there to die.’
'Oh, really.’
'Or that it's the ghost of William De'Ath, come to wreak his horrible revenge.’
The Heretics of De'Ath (The Chronicles of Brother Hermitage Book 1) Page 18