Edward Marston - The Wolves of Savernake

“It does, Luke. Do not be blinded by friendship to me from seeing duty to the order. I am but one obedientiary who went astray and have been whipped back into line. I accept that without complaint. Do you likewise.”

Brother Luke made the effort to do so, but it was way beyond his competence. His eye kept roving over Peter’s cowl and he eventually asked the question which had brought him there.

“May I see?”

“No.”

“The others say that Brother Thaddeus is vicious.”

“I have not seen his work and nor will you.”

“But you bear it upon your back.”

“Out of sight to both of us.”

“Can I not wash it for you? Apply more ointment?”

“I am too afraid for you, Luke.”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“If I lift my cowl to any other brother, he will see no more than the retribution of Father Abbot.” He put concerned hands on the young shoulders and looked the novice full in the face. “If I show you my wounds, you will see the exit from the order. And I would keep you here.”

“To suffer the same treatment myself?”

“To avoid it by due observance of the rule.”

Peter clapped his hands to change the subject and put the crucifix away once more. His manner was almost spry, though there was still an aching slowness in his motions.

“What have you been doing with yourself?” he said.

“Praying for you.”

“Your prayers were answered. Here I am again.”

“Praise the Lord!” Luke remembered something else. “The young commissioner came to call upon me.”

“Gervase Bret?”

“We talked in the garden.”

“Upon what subject?”

“His reason for leaving Eltham Abbey.”

Peter frowned. “He tried to tempt you away?”

“No, he was careful not to influence my decision in any way. But he was honest about his own travails and that made an impression on me. He spoke in the roundest terms and did not shirk my questions.”

“What else did he say?”

“He was intrigued by the abbey itself,” explained Luke, “and asked me about its working. That was the curious thing. When I met him, I was disposed to be released from my vows and leave the order, yet when I spoke with him about our life together here, I did so with such zeal that I came to see how much I had grown into it.”

“We are a family and you an honoured son.”

“The master of the novices does not honour me.”

“He will in time, Luke. If you stay.” Peter’s frown deepened. “What did you tell Gervase Bret?”

“All that he asked.”

“Did he mention Prior Baldwin?”

“Many times. He has seen through that sacred tyrant.”

“And Subprior Matthew?”

“He questioned me about the subprior’s work.”

“Beware, Luke!”

“Why?”

“He is trying to entrap you.”

“But he came here as a friend.”

“A friend to you, perhaps, but not to Bedwyn Abbey. He is a royal official sent here on a mission. Our prior and subprior represent the abbey. You weaken their position if you divulge any information about our community.” Brother Peter fixed an admonitory gaze on him. “I warned you before. This man was here to use your inexperience against you. The abbey has to fight the commissioners. You give them ammu-nition to use against your brothers.”

“I did not think him so sly.”

“He has his warrant, Luke.”

“Then all he told me was false?”

“I think it was.”

“No, no, it cannot be,” exclaimed the youth with spirit. “He spoke so openly about his own novitiate and suffered once more the pains of separation from the order as he talked. It was a dreadful choice he had to make and doubts will pursue him all his life.” Luke gritted his teeth and thought it over. “Gervase Bret is a straightforward man. He did not lie to me about Eltham Abbey.”

“Why did he leave it?”

“He yielded to temptation.”

“Ambition?”

“A woman.”

Peter sighed, “Each man has his own peculiar weakness. My own lies wrapped in cloth inside that drawer. For Gervase Bret, it was the wonder of a woman.” He sighed again and put an arm around his friend. “We all have fatal flaws, Luke.”

“What is mine?”

The message arrived before noon and it threw Hilda into a panic.

Leofgifu read it out to her and saw the rising terror in her eyes. A frightened creature at the best of times, she was particularly vulnerable at the moment, and Leofgifu had to spend a long time calming her down before they could even begin to address the problem.

Authority unnerved the widow.

“They have sent for me!” she whimpered.

“But they have not,” said her friend. “This is not an official summons.

One of the commissioners simply wishes to speak with you about your husband.”

“I know nothing, Leofgifu.”

“Then you will have nothing to tell them.”

“They will be angry with me.”

“I think not,” said Leofgifu, glancing at the missive once more.

“The man who sent this letter shows you much consideration. He apologises for intruding on your grief. He knows your situation. But your husband brought them all to Bedwyn, so they must talk with you.”

“I will not see them.”

“They have the power to enforce it,” warned the other.

“Tell them I am too ill.”

“It will not deflect them from their purpose.”

Hilda looked anxiously and helplessly around like a small animal caught in a trap. Alric’s death was shock enough to bear without having Prior Baldwin and Wulfgeat bearing down upon her. Now another man was trying to get something from her which she did not possess.

“See him,” advised Leofgifu.

“Will you be with me?” pleaded Hilda.

“Every second.”

“May we receive him here?”

“I am sure my father will consent.”

“What is this commissioner’s name?”

“Master Gervase Bret.”

“And you say he will not scold me?”

Leofgifu gave her pledge. “Not while I am here.”

A change of tactics allowed Prior Baldwin and Subprior Matthew to exhibit a more compliant attitude to the quartet who sat behind the long table in the shire hall. Baldwin sounded a conciliatory note at the start and Matthew was there to throw in a funereal smile of agreement whenever he deemed it necessary. Having antagonised the commissioners during earlier exchanges, the two men now seemed keen to mollify and compromise. Brother Simon was taken in by the apparent change of heart, but Canon Hubert treated it with an unconcealed scepticism and snorted in disbelief more than once. Ralph Delchard was diverted by the manoeuvres, but he left it to Gervase Bret to lock horns with the prelates.

“I have spoken with Abbot Serlo today,” said Baldwin, “and he agrees that a misunderstanding has arisen. The two hides which arouse this unfortunate controversy were willed to us when he and I first came to Bedwyn. You have the charter which sets the truth before you.”

“But it is a forgery,” affirmed Gervase.

Baldwin smiled sweetly. “No, sir, you allege that it is a forgery, and that is a different matter. That document has been signed, sealed, and proved. Your predecessors found no fault in it. Why must you?”

“Because we have a counter-claim.”

“Could that not be a forgery?”

“Indeed it could,” said Ralph heavily. “The more I see of Bedwyn and its ways, I begin to wonder if anything here is what it seems. We have had so many lies and prevarications that I am coming to think the town itself does not exist! It is a forgery practised on the eye.”

“Leave off these jests,” said Canon Hubert. “They do not advance the case. What we talk of here is the burden of proof.”