Edward Marston - The Owls of Gloucester

‘Yes, Archdeacon, but we need not dwell on the means by which that joy is achieved. It does not bear thinking about.’

‘But it was such a privilege to be involved in the process.’

Simon emitted another yell and lapsed into open-mouthed horror.

‘Was it a boy or girl?’ said Gervase.

‘A lusty boy, so anxious to come into the world that he would not bide his time. Mother and baby are both well, Master Bret, but it was a difficult labour. We had to tarry. When I realised that we would not reach Gloucester to answer your summons, I sent an apology ahead of me.’

‘It was duly received,’ said Hubert, ‘so perhaps we can put aside your eccentric habit of delivering babies and turn our minds to the question of certain hides in the Westbury Hundred?’

‘Of course, Canon Hubert.’

‘Do you have a justifiable claim?’ said Ralph.

‘Yes, my lord. It begins with a moral right.’

‘You Welshmen will preach about morality!’

‘But it is grounded in legality.’

‘Then why did you not advance it to the earlier commissioners?’

said Ralph. ‘Were you too busy bringing other children into the world?’

‘Fortunately, no. I was visiting the Bishop of St David’s. I did not even know about this Great Survey until I returned.’

‘St David’s?’ said Gervase with interest. ‘In that case, you may have met-’

‘That is not germane to this inquiry,’ interrupted Ralph savagely before another archdeacon could be named. ‘We have Welshmen enough under this roof, Gervase, without adding more. Most especially that one.’

Abraham was puzzled. ‘Why do you have a prejudice against us?’

‘I do not.’

‘Forgive me, my lord, but I feel hostility. Tomos?’

His companion gave a nervous nod of agreement.

‘The lord Ralph is not hostile to anyone,’ said Gervase, shooting him a look of reproof. ‘He strives to be impartial and objective, as do we all. That is why we can assure you of a fair hearing, Archdeacon, be you Welsh, Irish, Dane or Breton. You talk of a legal claim. Have you documentary proof of it?’

‘Of course. Tomos.’

The monk produced a charter from his satchel and handed it to his master. After unrolling it to remind himself of its contents, Abraham rose to pass it over before resuming his seat on the bench. Gervase glanced at the document and noted the seal at its base.

‘This was issued by King Edward,’ he observed.

‘It ratifies a right to property long-held by my predecessors.’

‘Strang the Dane also has a charter from King Edward.’

‘Set one against the other.’

‘It is not as simple as that,’ explained Gervase. ‘The lord Hamelin bases his claim on a charter from King William, as does Querengar the Breton. Each seems to have validity.’

‘I am well acquainted with both men.’

‘And with Strang the Dane, I expect.’

Abraham’s face darkened. ‘I know him best of all.’

‘But like him the least, by the sound of it.’

‘We have had our differences, I will admit, but they touch on other matters and do not belong here in this hall.’

‘Are you familiar with Strang’s reeve?’

‘Balki? Oh yes! We all know Balki, alas.’

‘He is certainly aware of you, Archdeacon,’ said Gervase, recalling the discomfort shown by the reeve at the mention of Abraham’s name. ‘And not at all happy to be ranged against you here.’

‘With cause. I intend to take his master’s land from him.’

‘Strang alleges that it has already been taken away by Hamelin of Lisieux and, given the chance, Querengar the Breton will seize it from all three of you. Which one of you are we to favour?’

‘The one with the most legitimate claim,’ said Hubert.

Abraham smiled. ‘Then that will be me.’

‘Tell us why, Archdeacon.’

‘Without any mention of childbirth,’ begged Simon.

‘Very well,’ said the Welshman calmly. ‘Let us go back to the reign of King Edward for that is when the problem first arose …’

When the others dispersed after choir practice, Elaf lingered to speak to Brother Owl. The Precentor knew why. He sat on a bench with the boy and turned a sympathetic ear to his concerns.

‘Are you still worried about Kenelm?’

‘Yes, Brother Frewine.’

‘He will recover in time.’

‘That is what I thought but he seems to get worse. Fearful thoughts haunt him day and night. Can you not tell by his face?’

‘Yes, Elaf. I can and did. Kenelm looks harrowed.’

‘He will not survive much longer.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He has talked of putting an end to it.’

‘How?’ asked Frewine with sudden alarm. ‘He is surely not contemplating suicide? That would be an unforgivable sin.’

‘Kenelm feels that he has already committed an unforgivable sin.’

‘And he plans to take his own life?’

‘No, Brother Frewine. His thoughts do not tend that way.’

‘Thank the Lord!’

‘He knows the penalty for such an act.’

‘To lie forever in unconsecrated ground,’ warned the other. ‘To be turned away from the kingdom of heaven. Nobody should pay such a hideous price. In a young boy, it would be doubly tragic.’

‘Kenelm realises that.’

‘So whence comes this talk of ending it?’

Elaf gave a shrug and tussled with his conscience. Kenelm was his friend and he did not wish to betray a confidence. At the same time, he did not want to lose the one person who made his own life at the abbey more bearable. Seeing his dilemma, the Precentor tried to help him out of it. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

‘You were right to come to me, Elaf,’ he said. ‘Whatever you tell me will go no further. I have helped you both in the past and, I like to think, pulled the pair of you out from beneath Brother Paul’s avenging arm more than once. Let me help you again.’

‘I’m not sure that you can.’

‘Simply talking to me will bring its own reward for it will ease your mind. Unburden yourself of the load you carry.’

‘It’s such a heavy load,’ confessed the novice. ‘I have remorse of my own, Brother Frewine, as you can imagine. During the funeral yesterday, I thought that I would faint. But Kenelm suffers something far worse than remorse. It pursues him every hour of the day.’

‘So what does he intend to do about it?’

‘Leave the abbey.’

‘Abandon his novitiate?’

‘Yes, Brother Frewine.’

‘But that would be such a waste.’

‘So I told him.’

‘His parents would never condone it.’

‘I know.’

‘Then why does he indulge in such futile talk?’

‘If only it were futile!’

‘Kenelm would not disobey his parents.’

‘I fear that he may, Brother Frewine.’

The old man’s face was at its most owlish. ‘What are you telling me, Elaf?’ he said in alarm. ‘Kenelm is planning to run away?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘That would be a scandal.’

‘I told him that.’

‘A scandal for the abbey and a bitter blow for his dear parents.

Nobody ever flees from here. It is unheard of, Elaf.’

‘What about Siward?’

Frewine was checked. ‘That was different,’ he muttered.

‘He disappeared one day. So did Dena. Those were the names that Kenelm cited. He said he’d follow their example.’

‘I pray to God that he doesn’t do that!’

‘Why? What happened to them?’

‘If only we knew!’

‘What drove them to quit the abbey in the first place?’

‘We are not even sure if that is what they did, Elaf.’

‘But they vanished.’

‘Sadly, they did.’

‘So they must have run away because they hated it here.’