Abbot's Passion (10 page)
Authors: Stephen Wheeler
PREPARATIONS BEGIN
The
essence of a monk’s life, as I have said often enough before, is stability and routine. One such routine is that each morning we gather in the chapterhouse to receive our instructions for the day and to discuss any matters which concern the abbey as a whole. Normally these meetings are presided over by the abbot but when he is away the prior takes his place. Unfortunately with Prior Robert being so ill other senior officers have had to deputize. So it was some surprise two days following Samson’s departure to see seated in the abbot’s chair not the sacristan or the cellarer nor even, God help me, the abbey physician, but Abbot Eustache.
We monks take these daily meetings very seriously. It is the one occasion of the day other than at mealtimes when all eighty professing monks meet together in one place. Chapter is where we can air our views and discuss matters of concern to us all. Our deliberations are private and for the community alone. Guests are occasionally allowed to participate when they have knowledge on a particular subject to impart, but generally speaking we do not take kindly to interference from outsiders be they archbishops, kings or even papal legates - especially uninvited ones.
Eustache evidently had anticipated some antipathy to his presence and had come dressed in his own rather imposing regalia as a Cistercian abbot which was clearly meant to impress. Barely had we taken our seats on the stone benches that run around the walls of the chamber than he was on his feet and began to address us:
‘
Chers frères
.
You may be wondering why I am here today in Abbot Samson’s place. You must forgive me. Normally I would not presume such a position but I have information that is of vital importance to the future of the abbey, the town - indeed to the future of all mankind.’
This caused a good deal of disquiet among the brothers. What was the abbot-legate talking about? Were we at war? Was the Apocalypse at hand? Brother Jeremiah, one of the more senior and respected brothers among us, voiced the question that many were thinking:
‘Where is Robert?’
Eustache gave him an indulgent smile. ‘As I’m sure you are aware, brother, Prior Robert is indisposed. Unfortunately he cannot be with us today.’
‘Then surely Brother Lionel or Brother Jocellus?’
‘The brothers sacrist and cellarer have deferred to me as the most senior cleric present,’ replied Eustache.
‘I don’t remember deferring to anybody,’ said Jocellus next to me.
‘And I was not consulted,’ objected Lionel from the other side of the chamber.
This prompted more murmurings. Eustache put up a conciliatory hand:
‘Brothers, if you will permit me. Someone has to take the lead in such situations. Since Prior Robert cannot be here -’
‘But I am here.’
We all turned with surprise to see leaning on the arm of one of the younger monks none other than the prior himself. No-one had seen him for a while and, truth to tell, we didn’t expect to see him again in public. He looked dreadful. An audible gasp of concern went up and one or two of the brothers rushed to lend a hand to the aging cleric.
You have to understand that Prior Robert by this stage was a very old man indeed, in his eighth decade of life. He had been our prior ever since I joined the abbey fourteen years earlier and for many years before that. Like many of the other brothers I regarded him as a sort of father-figure, always ready with a wise and caring word, always willing to listen. Sadly all that was over now as he was at the end of his life and not expected to live much longer. His attendance today, therefore, was the clearest indication that he was still determined to retain his authority and had no intention of allowing it to be usurped even by so eminent a personage as the papal legate. Seeing him here looking so frail and gaunt I don’t know which I felt more strongly: anger that he should have been forced to drag himself from his sickbed or admiration that he should wish to do so. Mine weren’t the only eyes to fill with tears at the sight of him as he was guided gently to the abbot’s chair. When he got there he paused in front of Eustache who reluctantly stepped aside. Only when Robert was seated did the rest of us resume our places again.
Once settled on Samson’s chair, Robert turned to Eustache with a benevolent smile. ‘Please proceed father abbot.’
Eustache rose to his feet for a second time by now looking a little overdressed and, I’m pleased to say, rather ridiculously so.
‘
Chers frères
, -’
‘Erm, just before you begin,’ Robert interrupted again. ‘May I say how sad I was to hear of the death of our dear brother, Brother
Fidele. I never met him but I have heard reports of his work and pray that he is now in the arms of one whom he sought to serve so competently.’
Competently. That was damning with faint praise if ever I heard it. Robert may have been confined the infirmary but he knew what was going on in the abbey and intended everyone to know it, especially Abbot Eustache. I couldn’t help a wry smile. Even with English as his second language - or was it his third? - Eustache could surely not have missed the irony in the prior’s voice. His face certainly registered something other than gratitude.
‘Thank you brother prior.
Mes frères
,’ he began for a third time and looked to see if the prior would interrupt again. When he didn’t, Eustache continued: ‘I am sure you are all aware of what has been transpiring between the abbey and our brothers at the cathedral convent of Saint Etheldreda in Ely regarding the new market in Lakenheath village. Unfortunately it is my sad duty to report that we have not been able to resolve our differences.’
Good lord! Was this the Apocalypse he was talking about? The matter that was going to change the world? Lakenheath market?
‘It is clearly illegal,’ Eustache went on. ‘Your charters show that no market can be tolerated within a day’s march of Bury. The
abbé
has given the monks of Ely ample time to reflect upon the gravity of what they are doing but they persist. Father Samson and I have taken wise council and we have prayed together, but it comes down to this: your beloved
Saint Edmund is being cruelly violated and his rights trampled upon. As the martyr’s loyal men, therefore, it is your duty to defend his honour!’
This caused much consternation among the brothers who despite Eustache’s assertion quite evidently had not heard about the matter. Prior Robert interrupted:
‘Surely, father abbot, this is a local matter and not one for the papal see.’
Eustache gave him an indulgent smile. ‘All matters are of concern to His Holiness where the moral welfare of his flock is concerned, brother prior.’
What was this bilge? Moral welfare? This was nothing more than another attempt by Eustache to impose his own views on the rest of us during Samson’s absence. I felt compelled to get to my feet.
‘Father, could I make an observation?’
Eustache tried to ignore me but Robert placed a shaky hand on his arm. Eustache reluctantly gave way.
‘Thank you brother prior. There is indeed a problem with our brother monks of Ely as Father Eustache has said. But he overstates the case. Lakenheath is a village. They cannot compete with Bury which is the by far the greatest market in Suffolk. Left alone Lakenheath would fold of its own accord without our having to do anything. The reason Samson chose not to mention it before in chapter is because he thought it too trivial a matter to bother the brothers.’
But Eustache wasn’t to be thwarted so easily:
‘You are forgetting, Brother Walter, that Bury market is closed at the moment. There is nothing to compete with Lakenheath.’
I shrugged. ‘Then open it again. It is the surest way to achieve our objective.’
‘Hear hear!’ said Jocellus next to me.
‘Forgive me
maître
,’ said Eustache in his syrupy tone, ‘but as I understand it, it was your failure to secure an agreement from Bishop Eustace of Ely that has led us to this situation, by losing the money that would have rescinded the Lakenheath charter. If it had not been for you there would be no market at all at Lakenheath.’
Some murmurings of discontent at this.
‘Explain!’ someone shouted.
Eustache was happy to: ‘It is really quite simple. Brother Walter was entrusted with the mission to negotiate an end to the Lakenheath market and to buy back the charter that granted it. But not only did he fail in that quest but he lost all the money sent to secure it. Trivial, he calls it. I do not call the sum of fifteen marks trivial.’
More murmurings at this.
‘I didn’t lose
all
the money,’ I protested. ‘Only half.’
I’m not sure that admission helped my case very much, the murmurings just got louder. I should have kept quiet. When trying to get out of a hole the first thing to do is to stop digging.
‘And furthermore,’ Eustace continued in more confident tones now, ‘he allowed the thief to escape. The same thief incidentally who murdered Brother Fidele. Brother Walter had him in his grasp and he let him go.’
Gasps of astonishment at this. Jeremiah leaned towards me:
‘Is this true, brother?’
‘Almost,’ I grimaced. I saw no point in trying to explain the circumstances in this increasingly hostile atmosphere. What I wanted to know was how Eustache knew so much about the trip and in such detail. After all, his chief spymaster - Fidele - was dead. A glance at Gilbert’s blushing face gave me the answer to that one. Eustache pressed home his advantage:
‘If you allow this market,
mes frères
, before long there will be one in every village in the county. And then you will see Bury sink beneath the abyss for ever.’
Even Prior Robert seemed to agree with that:
‘The legate does have a point, Walter. Even one extra market would be too many.’
More nodding of heads. I could feel the ground slipping further beneath me. Eustache then delivered his
coup de théâtre
:
‘Before the
abbé
left he summoned the bailiffs and ordered a general mobilization of all able-bodied men in the town - and that includes ourselves - to assemble at the Abbey Gate tomorrow morning immediately after lauds
.
’
This was news to me. I looked at Jocelin and Jocellus both of whom shrugged ignorance.
‘To what purpose?’ I asked.
‘To march on Lakenheath, of course,’ said Eustache. ‘And to remove by force that which you,
mon frère
, were unable to negotiate away by peaceful means.’
Many more heads were nodding now.
‘Is that then our only recourse?’ I said. ‘Violence?’
Prior Robert again put his hand on the abbot-legate’s arm, but this time Eustache ignored him:
‘If all goes to plan there should be no violence. The
abbé
has taken the precaution to send word of our coming. Anyone in the marketplace will have time to leave before we get there. All that will happen is that we will remove any structures pertaining to a market and return with it to Bury. It will be entirely peaceful.’
‘What if you’re wrong?’ I said. ‘What if we do meet with resistance?’
He shrugged. ‘We must be able to defend ourselves.’
‘You want us to go armed? Monks? Armed?’
But my words were lost in the melee. Suddenly everyone was talking at once. Samson would have stamped on such ill-discipline but he was not here and Prior Robert, though he put up a brave attempt, was not strong enough to do so. The meeting broke up in disarray without the usual
verba mea
. Jocellus and Jocelin both followed me out.
‘Walter, we c-cannot allow this to happen.’
‘I don’t see how we can stop it.’
‘Well I’m not going,’ said Jocellus resolutely crossing his arms.
‘M-me neither,’ agreed Jocelin.
‘I doubt if it’ll make any difference what we do,’ I said. ‘Abbot Eustache has everyone fired up. It was cleverly engineered. If all goes to plan, were his words. This has all been carefully worked out beforehand.’
‘Is it true what he said?’ asked Jocellus. ‘About the money and Hamo?’
I nodded. ‘In essence I’m afraid so.’
They both stared at me. I inwardly groaned. They didn’t have to say it, I got the message. It was me got us into this mess so it was up to me to get us out.
Eustache had already left the chapterhouse when I caught up with him.
‘Father abbot, are you serious about this?’
He stopped and looked at me with a mixture of triumph and contempt. ‘You saw the mood of your brother monks,
maître
. The die is cast.’
‘But monks armed with weapons?’
‘You surely do not expect us to go to Lakenheath naked? If we are attacked we must be able to defend ourselves.’
‘But we are the aggressors.’
