The Heretics of De'Ath (The Chronicles of Brother Hermitage Book 1)

by Howard of Warwick

  'It just beckoned me along the corridor. It looked like an ordinary man.’

  'That's what it does. Good job Francis and I didn't see it.’

  'And what exactly is it you and Brother Francis are up to?’

  'Hiding.’

  'Hiding from what? The cowled shadow?’

  'The Serpent.’

  'Ah.’ Simon nodded, carefully. Two more madmen to add to the college of lunatics who wandered the precincts of this monastery as if it was their natural habitat. He backed away ever so slightly. There probably wasn't even a real Brother Francis; he would be one of those imaginary monks made up by the less willing novices to keep them company. Simon thought about running, but the thin and ghost-like fellow before him looked young enough to win.

  'What?’ came a voice from the darkness, which Simon assumed must be Brother Francis after all. He backed a bit further, not wanting to let himself get surrounded by them.

  'It's another hiding monk,' the one in front of Simon answered to a piece of the wall.

  'What do you mean, a hiding monk?’ Simon blurted out. He was trying not to engage these people in conversation.

  'We can tell,' the wall-monk said.

  'Really?’ Simon asked, still trying to sound frantically interested while looking for the quickest route of escape.

  'Oh yes, it’s in the walk.’

  'Is it?’

  'It is. And the look. It's in the walk and the look. A bit shifty, a bit too hurried, lots of looking around and examination of your surroundings. People going somewhere don't tend to look where they've been so much. They don't examine the route so closely. And someone without a destination is either out for a nice stroll, or is contemplating, or is getting away from something. Those getting away from something are usually looking for a quick escape route, like you are now.’ He paused to let Simon take this in. 'Or they're looking for somewhere to get out of the way, while whatever it is they're getting away from goes by. Am I right?’

  'What are you talking about? I've only just arrived.’

  'Ah, but we’ve been watching you.’

  'Then you saw the shadow as well and know that I was following that.’

  'I've never seen the shadow,' the monk barked, most insistent. He forgot it straight away. 'Now the nice stroller can be subdivided into the idle moments, the interested examiner or the bored. The former is easy to spot you see. Lots of...’

  'Yes, yes, right,' Simon said. The man was embarking on something of an exposition on the various motivations of walking and it seemed to be a bit of an obsession. Obsessed monks in dark places. It was getting worse.

  'You, my friend, are a clear doesn't-want-to-be-founder?’

  'Am I?’

  'Oh yes. I said to Brother Francis I said, that gentlemen there is a clear...’

  'All right.’ Simon tried to wrap the explanation up.

  The man had relaxed somewhat now and was turning out to be a rambling madman instead of a skulking one.

  'So you can come and not be found with us. We've got a good place we have. They won't find you here. The Serpent hasn't found us, so it must be safe.’

  Before he could back away, the monk had grabbed Brother Simon by the arm and dragged him into the wall. Not literally into the wall, obviously. There was a turn in the masonry that was hard to spot from any distance. This led around a couple of corners until it reach a dead end, mostly surrounded by stone, in the middle of which sat another monk.

  At least Simon could see from this one's face that there was no question about his sanity. He was as mad as a coot. He stared at Simon as if the Investigator had just trodden on the corpse of his dead mother. He cradled a small stone in his lap to which he kept mumbling. Little clues of madness that even Simon could pick up. Unfortunately, even though this madman was huddled almost double on the floor Simon could see that he was young, healthy and built like a keep.

  'He's saving the rock for the Serpent,' the first monk explained. 'I'm Brother James, by the way, and this is Francis.’

  'What,' said Francis in greeting. He held up his rock for Simon to admire.

  'Very nice.’ Simon nodded vigorously and smiled.

  'Have you heard it?’ James asked

  'Erm, I don't think so,' Simon was noncommittal.

  'Oh, you'd know if you had. Hisses it does.’

  'Ah, the Serpent, of course.’ Simon smiled reassuringly.

  'We heard it, didn't we?’ James spoke to Francis, who held up his rock again.

  'Couldn't it have just been a, erm, snake?’ said Simon, although he imagined that they had thought of this.

  'In the refectory? And loud it was, hissed like the very Serpent itself, come to take us from the Garden of Eden.’

  Simon's eyes widened at this. The monastery of De'Ath's Dingle wasn't even remotely connected to the dung heap at the bottom of Garden of Eden.

  'Ah, that Serpent,' he said.

  'The only one.’

  'Of course. And erm … what was it doing here, do you think?’ Simon asked. More out of politeness to a dangerous madman in a confined space than from any desire to actually know.

  'Killed Brother Ambrosius, didn't it? And now it wants us.’

  'Oh,' said Simon with some shock. 'How do you know it killed Brother Ambrosius?’

  'And how do you know so much about the Serpent?’ James asked with a narrowing of his eyes. Francis hefted his rock.

  'I don't know anything about it,' Simon responded hurriedly, one eye firmly fixed on Francis's rock. 'You told me, remember?’

  James thought long and hard, 'Right,' he eventually said grudgingly. The rock was returned to readiness. 'Why do you want to know though?’ James wasn't completely satisfied.

  Simon straightened his back, thrust out what little chest he had and lifted his chin just a fraction. 'I am the King's Investigator.’ he announced.

  'What?’ said Francis.

  'The King's own personal Investigator,' he ladled it on.

  'And what's one of them?’ James asked. He narrowed his eyes again. 'And what's it got to do with Serpents?’

  'I have been sent here to look into the death of Ambrosius.’

  'Yeuch,' said James

  'Indeed,' said Simon, with a shiver and clenching of stomach muscles, 'but I can help you with the Serpent.’

  'How?’

  'Well, as I say, I am the King's Investigator.’

  'We know,' said James, wanting something more.

  'So,' said Simon, thinking very quickly, for him, 'I have the authority of the King.’

  'And?’

  'And the King is anointed by God.’

  'So?’ This man was never satisfied.

  'So the anointed of God have authority over the beasts of the earth and the birds of the air.’

  'Yeah, but this isn't just any Serpent, this is the real Serpent, The SERPENT, you know.’

  'Don't fear, my son.’ Simon was back to condescending normality.

  'So you can fight the Serpent off.’ It was a bald statement, and when it was put like this Simon wasn’t keen on the sound of it.

  'Well,' he responded, with some hesitation, 'first of all we have to be sure that it is the Serpent of the Bible you heard. Perhaps there is some misinterpretation of a natural event. It might be a perfectly normal serpent.’

  'Well, that'd be easy to deal with then,' James responded.

  The look on Simon's face said that he didn’t fancy this option much.

  'Unfortunately,' he continued, 'if it is a natural event and a natural Serpent, that isn't what King's Investigators are supposed to do. There are special people for that sort of thing.’

  'King's people?’ James was frowning. The rock was wobbling.

  'Oh, absolutely,' Simon sounded enthusiastic. 'If we do come across a normal snake, I can get someone else to deal with it.

  'But if it is the Serpent which tempted Eve…' James thought through the problem, 'it'll be a bit more impressive than your adder. For one thing, it can talk and
pick fruit.’

  Simon gave a noncommittal nod.

  'Just a minute,' said James with high suspicion in his voice. 'You're a don't-want-to-be-founder? If you're God's Anointed King's High Investigator,' Simon beamed at that, 'and you can fight off the Serpent, what was you hiding from?’ The rock rose again.

  'I need to move without being seen,' Simon responded, with the universal sign of a knowing tap of the finger to the side of his nose.

  'You mean, you was sneaking instead of hiding?’

  'Exactly – you are an astute observer, my friend.’

  James mused. 'Hmm, could work, I suppose. The characteristics are very similar.’ He weighed up the possibilities in his head and eventually seemed satisfied with the explanation. 'We'd better get on with it then.’

  'On with it?’ Simon asked.

  'Killing the Serpent. Now there's three of us – me, Francis with his rock and you with your anointment – he'll be no match for us. Just think, if we kill the Serpent heaven will reign on earth and we shall sit on the right hand of God.’

  'About this Serpent,' the Investigator wanted more information, 'what makes you think it killed Ambrosius?’

  'We was there,' said James proudly.

  'Ah, now that's interesting. There at the time, eh? Have you told anyone else?’

  'No, of course not. We ran off when he was struck down by the Serpent.’

  'And erm, how exactly did, Hermitage, I mean the Serpent, cause Ambrosius’s death?’

  'He hissed at him,' James announced.

  'Oh.’ Simon was disappointed. 'No knife or a rope or a fight or anything? Hissing at people isn't generally considered to be one of the more violent types of assault. It certainly doesn't usually lead to death.’

  'It hissed,' James insisted, 'kept on at it. All through the argument.’

  'What argument?’

  'The argument Ambrosius was having with the concave.’

  'Conclave.’

  'Yeah, that's it. Something about sand.’

  Simon sighed as he prepared to explain to the less intelligent than himself.

  'Ambrosius was to argue that the Lord did suffer the normal vexations of the human body when he was in the wilderness. He got sand in his shoes which would have been very uncomfortable. His father in heaven did not spare him the indignity, as he could have done; he wanted him to live as a normal man. That was Ambrosius’s proposition.’

  'Dirty devil.’

  'Not that sort of proposition. It was his argument, that was what he was suggesting. Then it was up to someone else to argue the opposite and the Conclave would determine which of them was right.’

  'So who was arguing against him? Hermitage?’

  'No, no, it was supposed to be Father Genly.’

  'Oh, the dead priest,' said James, without batting an eyelid.

  'How did you know that?’ Simon's eyes narrowed.

  'Word travels fast among the hiding monks.’ It was his turn to tap the side of his nose now.

  'Are there many of you then?’ he asked, with some incredulity.

  'You've met Athan, have you?’

  'Ah, take your point,' Simon mused for a moment. 'What do you mean hissing? Hermitage was hissing?’ He couldn't understand this.

  'Hermitage?’ James was surprised almost to the point of laughter, 'No not Hermitage, he was listening carefully, that's the sort of thing he does. Funny bloke. No, the hissing was coming from nowhere, that's how we knew it was the Serpent. We couldn't see anyone.’

  'Or any Serpents,' Simon suggested.

  'Course not. Wouldn't be visible, would it, the Serpent?’

  'Of course not, silly me.’

  'Anyway, the hissing goes on and on and Ambrosius gets crosser and crosser, and then he shouts out and sits down.’

  'He sat down? Is that it?’

  'Yeah, but he sat down dead. We recognise someone when they sit down dead. So that's when we thought, time to go. Nick of the moment as well. We've got a method.’ James winked again. It was most unnerving. 'I leg it at the first sign of trouble and then Francis comes at the second. Otherwise looks like we're up to something, doesn't it?’

  'I imagine it would.’ Simon nodded knowingly at this nonsense.

  James hadn't finished. 'Who should walk in afterwards but Arsehole Athan, pardon my Latin.’

  'So Hermitage didn't have anything to do with it?’

  'What?’

  'The death of Ambrosius.’

  'Course not.’ James shook his head that anyone could think such a thing of Hermitage. 'That's a funny monk. One chant short of a plainsong if you ask me. He was still thinking when we left him. Mind you, he does think a lot. Can't be good for you.’

  'This is very bizarre.’ Simon seemed to forget where he was or who he was talking to. 'Athan is convinced that Hermitage did it and has a very good case. The Abbot has concluded that Hermitage didn't do it, but that seems largely based on the old man's blatant prejudice against me rather than any lucid consideration of the facts. The weaver fellow appears to be on the Hermitage side of the moat. Why then is Athan so keen to get Hermitage convicted? It is all very puzzling and very confusing.’

  'Right then,' James said, with a very blank look on his face, which said that Simon's little speech had gone in one ear and hadn't even made it out of other one. It had been swallowed in the intervening void.

  Simon took a deep breath. He moved to follow James out of the cosy nook and back into the big bad world. As he did so he felt a tug at his habit, and turned quickly to Francis in case the imbecile was playing with his rock again. Francis beckoned and drew close to Simon's ear.

  'Pay little heed,' Francis said.

  Simon stepped back, shocked to hear lucid words coming out of the man's mouth,

  'James is a little, you know ...’ Francis made the familiar ‘barking mad’ sign with his finger against his head. 'Obviously unlikely to be the Biblical Serpent, but there's something going on. I'll keep close.’

  With this he stepped after James but turned and winked at Simon, hoisting his rock ready for whatever they were going to face.

  Caput XV

  Day Five Vespers

  If the Biblical flood had come at that very moment to wash the stain of De'Ath's Dingle from the face of the Earth, Hermitage would not have been the least surprised.

  Wat's idea of direct methods involved making the most revolting accusations against any monk who passed their way. He threatened that if they didn't reveal the whereabouts of the missing monks, the revelations made about them would make the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah look like mild rebuke from a lame duckling guarding a piece of rotten bread.

  When they didn't know where the missing monks were, Wat demanded some piece of information about some other Brother. It always turned out to be information of a positively appalling nature.

  Hermitage was well aware of the sins of man. He had read about them all in the Good Book. Yet he had never expected to discover so many carried out in such a place as this, and with such enthusiasm. He understood the principle of one or two rotten apples in the barrel, but this entire monastery seemed to have turned to cider. If it wasn't disgraceful behaviour such as that practised by Father Genly, it was business dealings that would have made the traders in the temple give a round of spontaneous applause.

  Most shocking of all, he found that there was a group within the precincts who were dedicated to Epicureanism. He would never have believed that there was access to fine foods and wines, albeit on a very limited basis. That there was access to food and wine at all was a surprise. The smell of a ham alone would drive the monastery into a moderately sized riot. He took this information particularly badly as he still recalled his starvation-induced nightmares, when lack of food had brought him to fainting whenever he stood up.

  'It's a good job the Abbot's not involved,' said Wat after the interrogation of a particularly surly Brother. He had eventually, reluctantly, indicated that he had seen James and Francis two days ago,
headed for one of the passageways that wormed their way through the intestines of the monastery.

  'Why?’ Hermitage was coming to the conclusion that he was the only one in the place who had not been engaged in one sort of very un-monk-like behaviour or another.

  'Because they wouldn't care then. Threatened with exposure to their Abbot they'd just have shrugged and said 'go on then'. When you say you'll tell the Abbot, at least this lot have the good grace to go very pale and look worried. That means there's a chance they're telling the truth.’

  'You make it sound like you've done this sort of thing before.’ Hermitage liked Wat, he seemed to be generally supportive, but he was displaying a rather doubtful side to his personality.

  'Not this exactly, and certainly never in a monastery, but I'm sorry to say I've had my fair share of contact with the less pleasant end of society. Doesn't matter where they are or what they're up to especially, they all behave the same when there's something going on.’ Wat shrugged and spotted a new victim across one of the ubiquitous quads.

  'Oy, I want a word with you,' Wat called to a passing monk. Hermitage braced himself for another onslaught on his moral sensibilities.

  'What's going on?’ he squeaked in frustration, skipping after Wat, 'what could possibly be going on? Ambrosius, an old and excitable man, drops dead of natural causes, why does there have to be anything going on?’

  'Damn.’ Wat stopped as his monastic target vanished around a corner. He turned and looked his companion up and down. 'It is a shame to drag you into so much of the modern world all at once. Why do you think Athan and Simon are so keen to think that you did it?’

  'Because they think I did.’ It was obvious.

  'No, no, no. We can all see you didn't, it's blindingly obvious. It may even be obvious that there was nothing done and it was all natural, as you say. So, give yourself that fact and then ask again … why does Simon, and more particularly Athan, want you guilty?’

  'Why particularly Athan?’

  'Because as far as I can tell Simon isn't capable of independent thought. He's just following where everyone else has already gone while doing his best to make it look original. It's a common enough ploy.’