by C. B. Hanley
The uproar that this produced in the room was all the more forceful for its lack of volume. Monks were raising their arms to the heavens and groaning, wailing, praying … all in contrast to the kneeling figure in the middle who remained immobile.
Brother Octavian was continuing, now in a flat, emotionless voice which was in contrast to his earlier passion. ‘I knew it was him as he had the work of Aelred of Rievaulx which he had been reading since Lent. I was careful to stab him in the heart through the back of his robe so that no blood would spill on to the text.’
He looked upwards before continuing. ‘But I had misjudged my punishment. I knew that I would burn for eternity in hellfire, but I thought it would be worth it for the study of the book. How was I to know that my punishment would be to live in constant fear that someone would find it and take it away?’
Edwin was jolted as an accusing finger emerged from the sleeve of the monk’s robe and pointed straight at him. ‘Him. Who was he? Some upstart villager from somewhere who thought he was interested in learning. But he was cunning, and I knew he would find it eventually.’
The abbot spoke again. ‘But in the event, it was not Edwin who frightened you the most, was it? It was poor Brother Eugenius.’
Now the first signs of agonised guilt started to show on Brother Octavian’s face. ‘He came back from the grange – I knew he had been talking to Edwin – he spoke in a confused way so I didn’t understand everything he said, but he mentioned wool ledgers and said that he must make a confession before Chapter – it wasn’t all his sin, but he needed the truth to be told – I was sure he was looking at me.’
He faltered into silence. The abbot locked his gaze with Edwin’s and Edwin felt himself nodding.
The abbot’s voice was like stone. ‘Look, Brother Octavian. Look upon the face of the dead.’ He pointed to where a shrouded body lay in the back corner of the room. It was behind the abbot and the prior and was covered in a plain cloth, so neither Brother Octavian nor most of the other brethren had noticed it before. But now the prior removed the cloth to reveal the body.
Brother Octavian started to his feet with a shriek and began to move backwards. But brothers Durand and Helias caught his arms.
The abbot was grim. ‘Bring him closer.’
They forced him to move forward until he was looking down at the body. He writhed in their grasp, trying to turn his face away.
The voice was like stone. ‘Look at him. Gaze on the face of your murdered brother and tell me what you had to do with his death.’
‘Look!’
It was the prior who had exclaimed. Every man in the chapterhouse, including Edwin and Martin, craned forward to follow the direction of his finger. Brother Eugenius had been washed and was dressed in a clean robe, a linen bandage tied around his jaw. The robe, the band, his face, all were white. But a crimson stain was erupting from the site of the wound on his chest, spreading across the robe, accusing the killer in his presence.
Brother Octavian screamed and fell limp in the arms of his captors. ‘Yes, yes, I killed him!’ he sobbed. ‘Please, cover him up – take him away – please!’
At a nod from the abbot the prior replaced the cloth over the body. Edwin kept glancing back at it, and sure enough, eventually a red stain made its way through.
Brother Octavian was back kneeling on the floor. Now he could hardly speak through his sobs. ‘I had already taken a knife from the scriptorium. The service had finished and we would soon be on our way to Chapter. As ever some of the brethren wished to visit the latrine so I followed them up to the dormitory as if I was one of them, signing to Brother Eugenius to ask if he would come to help me with something. He followed.’
Edwin surveyed the room. Every single eye was on the man on his knees.
‘I waited until the others had gone. Once we reached his place at the end of the dormitory he turned to face me, and God forgive me, I plunged the dagger straight into his heart.’
Many of the monks had tears streaming down their cheeks. Edwin was taken back to a place and time where he, too, had plunged a knife into another man’s body, and for a moment he staggered as he remembered the feeling, the awful sensation.
Now that Brother Octavian had started, it seemed he couldn’t stop. ‘It was sharp and I thought it would kill him straight away, but it didn’t! His eyes looked at me in such pain, and a great groan began to escaped him. I pushed him down on the bed and forced my hand over his mouth until he had stopped breathing.’
The abbot’s face could have been the model for a carving of a man enduring the torments of hell.
Brother Octavian’s shoulders shook as he forced out his last few words. ‘I realised that my habit was covered in blood so I took it off and hid it under one of the beds – I can’t remember which one. The I took a spare and put it on and came to Chapter. And I heard Brother Sinnulph’s confession, and I knew I had been wrong …’
Brother Octavian faded into an agonised silence. After a long moment during which he locked eyes with the abbot, tears streaming, he lowered himself back to his penitent position, face down on the floor, and spoke no more.
The abbot let the silence grow longer, trying to compose himself and waiting until the agitated monks had settled themselves and peace reigned in the chamber once more. Then he addressed the wretch on the floor.
‘You have confessed to the most heinous crime, the murder in cold blood of two men, God’s chosen creatures, and also your sworn brothers. You have offered no justification – your talk of sharing the book for all is just a mask for your own greed and selfishness. You coveted this treasure, you wanted it for yourself, and you were willing to kill to get it. You murdered Brother Alexander for it. And then, to try and hide your crime you killed another, an innocent. His spirit has accused you in this very room.’ Edwin couldn’t help looking at the shrouded body again.
‘THOU – SHALT – NOT – KILL!’ thundered the abbot suddenly, making everyone in the room jump. The abbot pointed with a shaking finger to the shrouded and bloodstained figure. ‘For this you have shown no repentance and therefore there can be no forgiveness.’ He fell silent as he tried with a mighty effort to compose himself. When he spoke once more his voice was level. ‘You will be cast out and exiled from us.’
Edwin felt Martin move impatiently next to him. He put a steadying hand on his arm to forestall the outburst he knew was coming, about how the monk should be turned over for hanging, because he had an idea of what was coming next. Martin swallowed his words before they came out of his mouth and Edwin turned his attention back to the abbot, who was continuing.
‘You will be as one dead to us, and you will spend the rest of your days in a living tomb, praying for the souls of Brother Alexander and Brother Eugenius and praying that your suffering and repentance might be so great that some measure of mercy might be extended to you during your time in hell.’
He looked around at the rest of the monks. ‘As of now, Brother Octavian is dead to us. None of you will ever speak one word to him again. Now come.’ He swept past the prostrate man, making sure that the skirts of his robe did not touch him, and out of the room. One by one the other brothers stood and followed him, until Edwin, Martin and Prior Henry were left alone in the room with the condemned man, lying perfectly still on the floor.
Martin walked over to the shrouded body. ‘How did you make it bleed like that just when he was looking?’
The prior looked surprised. ‘I didn’t.’
Edwin saw both faces turn to him. ‘Don’t look at me!’
They all gazed at the corpse. Prior Henry crossed himself. ‘A second miracle?’
‘God’s work, Brother,’ Edwin heard himself saying. ‘In case my word wasn’t enough.’ He muttered the rest under his breath. ‘This time the killer of an innocent shall not go free.’ He unclenched the fist he hadn’t realised he’d made.
Prior Henry expelled a long breath and turned his attention to the condemned man, still unmoving. ‘While we wait for
the cell to be built he must be kept alone. We will put him in one of the cellars and lock the door.’
Martin nodded. ‘I don’t think he’ll be trouble but I’ll help you take him.’
Prior Henry inclined his head, his face still pale from the wonder he had witnessed. ‘Thank you. But please, as Father Abbot said, take care not to speak to him. Not now, and not later.’
Edwin watched as the two men lifted the unresponsive Brother Octavian to his feet, took one of his arms each and started to move towards the door. As they passed Edwin, the condemned man suddenly came to life and he lunged forward. He could not reach Edwin, of course, not with Martin and the hefty prior both holding him, but Edwin took a step back nonetheless.
Brother Octavian’s voice was pleading. ‘Of all people, surely you can understand? You saw the book, and I saw you – I saw how deeply you felt about it. You wanted it – you wanted to spend the rest of your life looking at it – I know you did. Surely you can understand?’ His eyes bored into Edwin’s soul.
Edwin closed his eyes and slowly turned his back. He folded his arms to quell the shaking in his hands, and remained in silence until he heard the others leave the room.
Chapter Fourteen
A movement from the doorway caught Edwin’s eye and he turned to see that Brother Helias had re-entered the chapterhouse.
The cellarer’s voice was full of sympathy. ‘You look as though you need some time for peace and reflection.’
Edwin nodded. ‘Not to mention sleep.’ He ran his hand over his face.
‘I don’t think you’ll get much rest in here – you’ll just sit thinking about everything which has happened. Come to my office, where it’s quiet, and I’ll find you a cup of something.’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be reading, with all the others?’
‘I am often excused on account of the duties of my post. And now that I have no assistant …’ he trailed off.
Edwin touched his shoulder, briefly. ‘I am sorry, truly sorry, about Brother Eugenius. If only I had acted earlier.’ To his shame he felt tears stinging his eyes and he buried his face in his hands.
Brother Helias spoke soothingly. ‘Come now.’ He put an arm around Edwin’s shoulder and led him out of the chapterhouse. They went around the long way to avoid walking through the cloister where all the other monks were, and eventually found themselves in Brother Helias’s office. Edwin felt himself being lowered on to a stool, and he inhaled the room’s scent of spices. A cup was put into his hand and he took a sip of cool ale. He opened his eyes, sat back against the wall and said nothing, watching the cellarer bustle about his tasks.
After some time Brother Helias paused and looked at him. ‘Are you ready to speak now? You might feel better if you just let out whatever is bothering you.’
‘A confession, you mean?’
‘No, no – for you have nothing to confess and I am not a priest like some of the brethren.’ He drew up another stool, set it next to Edwin and sat down. He took both of Edwin’s hands in his own. ‘But I can see that you are burdened with something, something which is weighing heavily upon you. If you don’t wish to speak of it, then that’s fine. But if you do, then I am listening.’
There was silence. Edwin’s eyes wandered over the room, the stores, the parchments, the monk in front of him, the colour of the hair around the tonsure, so like his own. He stared at the weave of Brother Helias’s robe, noticing a small patch of grey where there was an imperfection in the wool. He wondered if Brother Sinnulph would have been allowed to class that as a high grade.
And then he talked. He spoke of his life in the earl’s household, the ever-more impossible tasks he was given, the way people kept dying violent deaths around him. He spoke of his hasty actions of the previous month which had almost resulted in a number of deaths, including his own; he spoke of his subsequent inability to act here at the abbey which had left another corpse on his conscience. He spoke of losing the only woman he thought he would ever love, and his despair; he spoke of the abbot’s offer and his feeling of being torn about staying or going.
Once he had faltered into silence he realised he was on his knees clutching the hem of Brother Helias’s robe. He uncurled his fingers, wiped the back of his hand across his wet face, and hauled himself back up on to the stool. He looked at the floor.
At first he couldn’t work out what Brother Helias was saying to him, but then he realised it was a prayer, Latin being pronounced in a soothing voice as the monk asked the Lord and His saints to help Edwin and to watch over him. Edwin let it wash over him as he wondered miserably if the Lord was listening.
Brother Helias finished his prayer. ‘Amen. And now, let us address more practical matters.’
‘Which ones?’
‘One thing at a time, my son, one thing at a time. You speak of the dangers of your life in the earl’s household. But consider that they are also challenges for you and your mind. Ask yourself: would you really, truly be happier labouring in the fields day after day?’
Edwin was tempted to answer that yes, he would, if only because it would be less dangerous, but he knew it was a lie. He would go mad from the boredom. He said as much.
Brother Helias nodded. ‘You are not suited for work in the fields so God’s plan for you must lie along a different path. It looks as though you have three choices.’
‘Three?’
‘You can return to the lord earl and continue in his service. Or you can stay here and join the Order, as Father Abbot has invited you to do. Or you can do neither of those things but instead leave and do something else.’
‘Do what?’
Brother Helias chuckled. ‘That I cannot answer, not on so short an acquaintance, but there are many opportunities for a man who wishes to travel and who is not afraid of the attendant hardships.’
‘Only if he is a man with money.’ And that was the crux of the matter. He was not a lord, not a knight, not a merchant, not a man of means. He must learn to know his place. ‘Which reminds me,’ he sat up straighter and tried to get his tongue not to fall over the words as they came out of his mouth, ‘in all this talk of me joining the abbey, surely we are all forgetting: I would have to be a lay brother, wouldn’t I?’
‘How so?’
‘You think that because I’ve come here from the earl that I’m from a great house – well, I’m not. I’m only in his household by accident; I come from a family which has lived in the village of Conisbrough since as long as anyone remembers.’
Now Brother Helias looked confused. ‘But – you are educated? You read, you understand Latin?’
‘My father was the bailiff on the lord earl’s Conisbrough estate, which raised him a little above the village. He sent me to be taught by our priest, and that’s how I learned. But I am by no means from a noble family, not even a minor one. I would bring no donation to the abbey. And so I would end up labouring in fields all my life anyway, would I not?’ He was aware that his voice sounded bitter, and he made no attempt to disguise it.
Brother Helias looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t think the situation is quite as you paint it.’
‘Why not?’
‘As you may be aware, Father Abbot goes to great pains to ensure that each of us serves God and the Order in the way best suited to us. He knows that you are intelligent and lettered. He knows that you would be of more worth to the abbey as a monk who could eventually become one of the obedientiaries, so he would surely admit you as a choir monk. There are many who would make good labourers, but few who would make good cellarers. Or, for that matter, good scholars.’
Edwin jerked his head up. ‘Scholars?’
‘Yes. Don’t forget, once you are a monk you will be obliged to undertake the lectio divina. You will read every day, and deepen your faith and understanding.’
Edwin licked his lips. ‘Read? The books in the library here?’
Brother Helias inclined his head and watched Edwin for a moment. ‘But there is one more thing we must speak of. Th
is woman you mentioned, whom you love.’
Misery returned. ‘She is in Lincoln, she is married to another, and I will never see her again.’
‘I know very little of these matters, my son, as I’ve been in the cloister all my adult life. But tell me, is it likely that you might ever love another?’
‘I – how can I know that? But in all honesty, I don’t think so.’
‘So you will not pine for a different life? One with a wife and children?’ He sighed. ‘I went through a period, many years ago, when I questioned my own life here and wondered how things would have been different had I married and had sons and daughters.’
‘How did you overcome it?’
‘I realised that I was in the right place. Had I been a married man with a wife and children, I would no doubt be yearning for the life of the cloister and of quiet contemplation. I prayed and I understood that we need to recognise that we will always dream that something else is better, when in fact it is not.’
‘So, you have been happy here?’
‘Yes.’
‘So your brother said – and I don’t think he’s very pleased about it.’
Brother Helias stifled a movement of surprise. ‘Ah. So, you know about that, do you?’
Edwin nodded. ‘I wasn’t trying to pry, but I found out while I was looking into Brother Alexander’s death. Sir Philip told me all about it because he thought I suspected him of being the killer.’
‘Philip would never kill a man in cold blood. In battle, yes, or maybe even if he struck someone during the heat of an argument, but he would never plan and carry out a murder like that.’
‘A true knight, then.’
Brother Helias sighed. ‘Yes, albeit one who prefers a knight’s martial duties to his administrative ones. But that book is closed, and we shall speak of it no more. I am happy here, and I intend to stay in the Order, in whatever capacity God and Father Abbot see fit, until the day of my own death.’