The rains had not come, after all their effort to clear the hay the night before. The electric storm, which had been threatening in the purple clouds of the late evening sunset, had not broken. And the heat was held in the strange darkness that brooded over the whole of Ashton Park, which now seemed sunk in a deeper valley than the one in which it rested. The haze which collected after a very hot day refused to be dispelled completely, and the sun was prevented from its full brilliance. All nature seemed held in, contained before bursting. The lowering skies brooded over the climbing cottage roses, which were as big as cabbages and drenched with dew from the night before, hanging precariously as if about to fall off their stems from the extent of their own weight. The wild brambles along the verges between the cloister and the farm, and the cow-parsley like wild Queen Anne’s lace, dragged their frills, drenched and weighed down, while foxgloves and hollyhocks burgeoned in wildness and profusion. Names - he learnt their names. All that grew close to the ground, the undergrowth of the park, seemed to be reaching up to the trees in their full-leaved and complete summer state. The effect of the dark and lowering skies, which became more and more suffused with the sun’s heat and brilliance, was a pervasive breathlessness, which invaded the corridors and meeting rooms, and held Aelred in an extreme state of anticipation. It clawed at his throat like the heavy and tenacious green ivy which crawled against the walls of the chapel at the front of the abbey and clutched at the weathered stone.
After None the haze lifted and the park was hot with the sun transfigured in the vivid blue sky. But at the same time, cumulus rainclouds from the west were accumulating and threatening to cloud over, and eventually break with the rain which should have come the night before. There was a persistent wind.
The younger monks were called out to haymaking soon after None, and Dom Thomas waited outside the sacristy to give the instructions quietly to each of the younger monks as they processed out of the choir. Aelred, because he was junior to Benedict, noticed that Benedict in front of him had been instructed. But because Edward was his junior and processed out of the refectory after him, he did not see whether Edward had been asked. He would have ordinarily been elated to be working with Benedict, but now, since this afternoon’s sudden change, he was nervous and afraid.
It was not necessary that all the novices should be asked. Some of them would be needed for the house jobs which could not be left undone, like clearing the refectory and setting it up for supper. There was washing up to be completed and vegetables to be prepared for the next day. It was also the day for the laundry to be sorted. Already, Brother Gideon had brought up the baskets from the laundry room and left them in the hall for collection by whoever had been detailed by the Cellarer.
‘I need to talk to you.’ Aelred hung on to Benedict’s sleeve as he turned into a part of the cloister that was screened by a vast overhanging of Russian vine, which was already beginning to burgeon with its white flowers. This shady spot was hidden from the rest of the cloister. There were benches built into alcoves, which meant that it was easy to cut yourself off from much of the activity in this area of the abbey. Benedict had left his books there when he went to None. He had spent the siesta in the shade. The spot was further enhanced by a fountain under one of the arches of the cloister.
‘Control yourself.’ Benedict pulled away.
As Benedict knelt to pick up his philosophy books from the floor near one of the benches, Aelred sat down on the edge of the seat and bent down to be near him, so as to talk in a low voice. ‘I need to talk to you. Don’t pull away from me. You’ve got me into this.’
‘Keep your voice down. And what do you mean? What are you talking about? What’ve I got you into?’ Benedict had already gathered up his books and was making to go quickly to his cell, so as to change for the haymaking. Aelred was still sitting on the edge of the bench, with his head now between his hands. ‘Hurry, because we have to be in the fields soon. This isn’t what I meant by making an opportunity to see you. This is in absolute opposition to the expressed wishes of Father Justin and Father Abbot. I can’t carry on in this way, particularly in the lead up to my final vows. It’s as if you can’t control yourself.’
‘I can’t. I can’t. You know, don’t you? You already know? That’s why you’re being so rough, so dismissive? You’re jealous. I’m sorry. But you’re jealous and so you are dismissing me. Just like that. Your cell empty. You here, me over there. What is this community?’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Keep your voice down. You know we’re not supposed to be here, talking at this time or any other time. You know I’m worried about the number of times we see each other. You must control yourself. You look terrible. What’s the matter? I will listen, but you must be quick. Couldn’t you’ve waited till we got into the fields where we could have talked in a more natural way, rather than this hiding, this furtive whispering?’
‘I can’t talk to you.’ Aelred made to leave the cloister. ‘It’s no use. You’re not being sympathetic.’
‘Wait,’ said Benedict ‘Wait. You might as well tell me now. I’ll listen. I’m sympathetic. I do this for you. I do this so we can hold on to what we have, for our life here. I don’t want to lose you. You run the risk of destroying it. You run the risk that it will be judged irreconcilable with our vows. Truly, you must agree. Why don’t you understand? You must be patient.’
‘What’s the point? Anyway, you aren’t interested in what happened to me and Edward - how our talk went, how the talk which you set up went. You set it up. It’s your fault.’
‘What on earth are you talking about? I wish you would be plain and tell me, instead of ranting and not saying anything. I assume you had a good talk and sorted out your differences. I will make time to talk to both of you. I’ll talk to Father Justin and get a special permission to speak to you. That’s possible. I must work within the rules; otherwise I’m sure that all is dashed. But surely all this is not about your meeting with Edward. I can’t believe that. So tell me what else has occurred.’
‘It’s OK, I’m just making a fuss. It’s nothing.’
Benedict held Aelred by the shoulders. ‘You’re so young. I’ve put all this on you. I should’ve left you alone. I should’ve coped with my feelings in another way.’
‘Yes, maybe you should’ve left me alone.’ Aelred left the cloister swiftly and Benedict did not prevent him this time.
At first, Aelred could not see Edward anywhere. It was not till an hour later that he saw him, coming down through the apple orchard on his own. He realised that he must have had to do house duty before coming on to haymaking. His heart began to beat with expectation.
He had managed to avoid Benedict, something he never thought he would want to do. He was hurt that Benedict had not immediately perceived what was wrong and done something about it, comforted him, put it all right. His own emotions did not allow him to think of how Benedict was seeing things now, or had seen them. He felt that he was sure to have hurt Benedict, with his last remark in particular, but he was not in a position to maintain this concern.
Edward worked in the lower field near the ponds, and Aelred was asked to go and work at the top field. When he was settled there, with a view of the whole park, isolated and as far as he could be put from Edward, he took it as a sign that he should not rush things. He was beginning to feel quieter in himself since the turbulence that had filled him all day. He must try to find Benedict to talk things through again, to get advice. And he must, he thought, go to confession this evening so that he could go to communion in the morning. He would have to visit Basil tonight after Vespers. He wondered whether Edward would go to communion. Clearly he had not committed a sin. No, it was he: he had had all the impure intentions. He had performed all the impure actions. He was responsible for any sin, for leading Edward on, for creating an occasion of sin. Edward was virtuous because he had resisted. He had turned away from temptation. Aelred felt quieter, but wretched.
Aelred could not s
ee Benedict anywhere in the fields and thought he must be at the farm. He decided to be bold and went to Brother Adrian, who was in charge, and said that he had to go off to his cell. He decided then and there to take the bull by the horns. He could not stand the tension. He must get back to Benedict. He must get back to the equilibrium of his relationship with Benedict. Benedict would advise him what to do. Yes, he would be hurt and more, he would be concerned about his vocation and the state of Edward’s mind, as he would think that he was responsible for bringing them together in the first place. Aelred was sure Benedict would take a pastoral attitude to this. He must risk it. There was no one else to go to. He could not trust Basil with all the facts of this. Basil, of course, could be really understanding, but he could not bring up the whole matter of Benedict and then what had happened with Edward. He felt as if his whole life in the monastery so far was up for scrutiny. He might be losing his vocation. No, he didn’t believe that. But he must get to Benedict.
His plan was to go through the farm, and if Benedict was working in the barn, he would just have to run the risk of being noticed and would ask him to come and talk to him. He would not be able to cope if he didn’t.
Brother Adrian was fine about him leaving. ‘Come back as soon as you can, because there’s still so much hay to bring in.’
Aelred agreed. ‘I’m grateful, brother. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
Aelred could see Edward still working in the field near the spinney. His resolution from a moment ago diminished and he felt an ache in his stomach for the young man bending down to pick up the heavy bales and carrying them to the trailer.
He was just a small blue figure in the distance. All his distinctive features were lost in the space of the park and against the trees and the water of the ponds. His insignificance was etched against the immensity of the park.
Their secret was hidden in this immensity.
Aelred felt himself soaring. The image of Edward so moved him that he ached, as he had ached in his stomach at siesta in the library for him with the longing of all his childhood for someone to love. Was love the word? He felt sick. He felt now that he loved Edward as he had indeed loved Ted. He was sick with this love. He smiled as he looked down at Ted’s boots, which had now got relegated to field work. He wondered if these feelings would last until he got to the farm and was able to speak to Benedict to explain his confusion.
The feelings continued, but there was no Benedict.
All the afternoon was coiled into the whirr of the baler raking in the cut grass and delivering bundled bales on to the field in clusters. That was in the upper field, ten minutes on the back of the full tractor from the barn in the farmyard, where Aelred and Edward laboured high up on the stacked bales under the zinc roof, sweltering in the heat. They laboured in the hum of the sun, the tractor and the baler, into which the crash of the conveyor delivered the bales to the top of the barn. They worked relentlessly within this humming space, into which the conveyor dumped the bales that Brother Martin unloaded from the trailer twenty feet below. They plodded in the hay on the floor, falling over, getting up, lifting bales and stacking them to the height of the roof, shutting out crevices of light. They worked in unison, one fetching the bales from where the conveyor randomly dropped them, the other working higher up on another ledge in order to reach the empty spaces, to fill every possible nook and cranny. Their rest came when Brother Martin had emptied the trailer, shut off the conveyor.
Aelred and Edward feared this peace.
They did not speak: they would not have been heard. They worked with their heads down in the space of the hum and the heat inside their own heads and thoughts. But their consciousness was focused on each other, riveted so that they became one in spirit as they moved back and forth, forming one motion in the whole business of stacking.
They passed messages along the electricity of the heat in their arms and muscles as they lifted and handed bales to each other, all the time their eyes bowed. To look at each other would have shattered the concentration that was at once an utter absorption as well as a mad attempt to shut out the other in these dangerous times; each was alone in the middle of this cave inside their heads into which they had entered. Labouring and sweating, they both hoped that it would never stop, and that eventually they would be delivered miraculously from each other into a peace they craved but could not seek, as the magnetic field they inhabited pulled their bodies relentlessly towards each other, as all the caution they could muster pulled them the other way.
Aelred’s head was filled with his own sin and with that sin, the desire for more - not sin, but more of what that feeling was; and at the same time he wanted to try to stop it, the way he had tried in the dormitory before running into Edward’s cell and pulling at his habit to undress him in order to release from him himself, his sex, to him.
He remembered now that their bodies seemed to be a barrier between them and where he wanted to reach. This was what you had to do, but this was not where you wanted to arrive. The same feelings mounted in him now in the midst of this labour, and labour seemed to be a way to satisfy it. This was a way to dominate the body. As the fathers of the desert used to fast, to flagellate themselves; they hoped to become angels. But whatever he wished to heap upon his body, his mind would not be released from the obsession the body grew with.
This very pain held the pleasure.
He had an instinct for water, to continually wash his hands with cool water, to bathe his body in the water of a cool stream, to still this mind, this body, to cleanse it all in some new baptism which would render him safe from all that he felt. And yet, at once, he desired more than anything else not to be saved from this, but to give himself up utterly to all that his desire dictated.
Edward worked now at the same time, in an attempt to silence his own words, so unconsciously slipped out the day before, that he loved this fellow novice of his. Edward did not understand his feelings in the same way. They came upon him, came out of him, as his words ‘I love you,’ had come out; as he said them he discovered that those really were his feelings. In the same way, Aelred’s actions had made explicit his own desires. Since Aelred had fled with his words, ‘No, it’s not possible,’ ringing in his ears, Edward regretted his actions. Not that he knew clearly what would be possible, but he was prepared to discover, or at least not to prevent it any more.
Suddenly, the clatter of the conveyor stopped, and Brother Martin shouted up, ‘There’s water down here for you two.’
Aelred looked down. ‘I’ll just have a rest,’ he called down to Brother Martin. Edward remained silent higher up in the barn, where a shaft of light came through laden with dust. Aelred lay down where he sat near the top of the conveyor. He could hear Brother Martin walking off into the farm buildings.
In the distance, they heard the hum of the baler and the tractor going about the field collecting the next batch of bales. Aelred closed his eyes.
A fly buzzed.
Aelred entered a vortex of heat and humming, which seemed to create a timeless zone in which he remained a long time.
Edward sat and stared down at the other novice lying on his back, his eyes closed. He regretted his words, ‘No, it’s not possible,’ and wanted the love he felt for this other man to be possible, and yet he didn’t know how, with the hard prohibitions his conscience delivered. How, with this body and all that he had been taught, could it be possible? And here?
They would be angels.
It seemed as if they remained a long time like this, suspended in a kind of ecstasy. In this long time, Ashton Park, in the heat of this summer afternoon, held fast its secrets: secrets which had to come out.
But first, Aelred went back in his mind to home in this heat, to Malgretoute and the cane fields and playing in the sun with his friend Ted. In his anxiety and strange descending melancholia, he missed Ted and longed for the return of those days. In the heat, he descended into a reverie, a dream of Ted, when they were still boys running alongside the canals be
tween the cane fields, bathing naked in the muddy water, entering those innocent games, playing with their totees, growing up, and those games becoming more dangerous. On the boat, that image which entered so many of his dreams, licking salt water off Ted’s shoulders and their first kiss under the house, lying in the dust and watching the spiders in their webs and cracks of light between the floorboards under Aunt Lydia’s house. That was the afternoon they found the chrysalis hidden in the folds of the washing awaiting ironing by Toinette. Almost a butterfly! He recalled those long clumsy kisses once they had learnt. Then there were those afternoons at the swimming-pool when no one was around, swimming naked as deep as they could go, deeper and deeper.
Ted’s face as white as powder in the coffin.
Now Aelred’s daydream merged with Ashton Park.
Malgretoute became Ashton Park and he was burying Ted in Jordan’s grave. They lay like twins, the brown boy with the black boy in the hole in the cemetery near the medieval chapel, but the singing was from the parish church back home. ‘Let perpetual light shine upon him.’ His black friends, names given, names taken away, singing the ‘Tantum Ergo’. Will he go to hell, Father? He asked the question over and over of Dom Maurus, until he woke startled, falling off the bale of hay into the silence of the barn and the humming of the tractor in the upper field.
Aelred opened his eyes and Edward was standing over him, looking down into his face. He made to sit up, rising on his elbows, dazed and not quite seeing Edward’s face clearly against the light and the shafts laden with dust.
‘You startled me.’
‘Sorry. I want to talk.’
‘Yes? What? I know what you said. It’s not possible. You are right.’
‘That’s just it. I didn’t mean it. Yes, I mean, I did mean it, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel what you feel and want to do what you want to do.’
Aelred was now sitting up and Edward was kneeling in front of him. They looked at each other. They were both at the centre of the humming, the humming which was the distant tractor, the sun on the zinc roof of the Dutch barn, and the confusion of emotions that they both carried since they had last talked and seen each other in the dormitory. They were alone and their eyes said different things to the words of their first exchange. Their eyes were confused. They spoke of a tangle of emotions that needed to be expressed but were difficult to talk about, and even more difficult to control.
Aelred's Sin Page 26