Brother's Blood (5 page)

His voice was sonorous. ‘Brother Godfrey. Your return is welcome. How did you fare out on your own?'

To Edwin's surprise, Brother Godfrey began to weep, tears coursing down his cheeks. ‘I tried, Father, but it was so difficult! And I didn't know I was to be away overnight, for which I ask your forgiveness – the lord earl said …'

The abbot held up one hand. ‘Peace, Brother. You're back safe now, and perhaps it's God's will that you shouldn't be apart. Go now, and know that I'm pleased that you tried. Any fault lies with me.' He watched without any expression that Edwin could discern as Brother Godfrey fled, then turned to Brother William, still kneeling. ‘And so the wanderer returns. How do you find your life with the lord earl, Brother?'

‘I like it well, Father.'

‘And you have as yet no desire to come back to us? I am in need of a travelling companion for my journey to Citeaux, for Brother Alexander was to have come with me.' He sighed and crossed himself.

Alexander, thought Edwin, that must the name of the murdered monk. I wonder why he was going to be the one to travel? He glanced at Brother William, who had an expression of agonised indecision on his face. As well he might – Edwin could imagine him travelling across the sea to protect the abbot and visiting marvellous places on the way. How tempted he must be.

His voice sounded a little strangled. ‘Father … I thank you, but as you have sent me to the lord earl, my duty must lie with him. And indeed, he has need of me.' He bowed his head. Edwin, who had come to know Brother William quite well since he had been part of the earl's household, admired his strength of will. Nobody else seemed to notice.

The abbot simply nodded. ‘So be it. But why have you come back with Brother Godfrey? Who are these boys? Could the earl's man not be spared?'

Here goes, thought Edwin. He watched as Brother William stood, and then he and Martin moved forward to stand next to the monk. Edwin felt small, in all senses.

Brother William propelled him forward, and spoke a little more heartily than was required. ‘He's here, Father. This is Edwin, the earl's man, in whom he has full confidence. He has completed a number of missions for the lord earl with great success. And the other is his senior squire Martin. Have no fear – they will serve you well.'

Edwin flushed as the abbot looked him up and down without speaking, but he didn't lower his gaze. The second monk, who had remained silent all this time, stepped forward to the abbot and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear before moving back while smiling encouragingly at Edwin.

The abbot nodded and composed himself before speaking. ‘As Prior Henry points out, the Lord's ways are often mysterious to men on earth. It may be that He has sent you to us in our hour of need for some greater purpose. And precept eight tells us that we should respect all men. Therefore, welcome.'

He held out his hand and Edwin, not entirely sure of what he should do, genuflected briefly while putting the ring to his lips. The abbot's fingers were cold, despite the warmth of the day.

The abbot turned to Martin. ‘We have little use for arms or soldiers here, but you are most welcome also.' Martin bowed, but didn't move forward, kneel or speak.

There was silence for a moment before the abbot broke it. ‘Now, we must speak of the business in hand. Brother William, you may return to the earl with my blessing, and report that his men are safe. I will find another to accompany me to France.' He held up his hand and blessed the monk before dismissing him; Brother William gave Edwin an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he went past.

Edwin hadn't realised that he was going to lose his companion so soon and was assailed by panic. Who else was going to tell him how to behave? ‘What's precept eight?' he hissed under his breath.

Brother William leaned in. ‘From the Rule of St Benedict, the laws by which we live. Father Abbot quotes it frequently; you'll get used to it.' He straightened. ‘Farewell Edwin, Martin. I'll see you in a week at Conisbrough.' He left and shut the door behind him.

The abbot gestured to two stools; Edwin lowered himself on to one but Martin remained standing behind him while the abbot settled himself in the chair and the prior sat on the bench.

Edwin thought he'd better start taking charge of the situation. ‘You've called me here, my lord, because one of your monks has been murdered?'

The abbot nodded.

‘I'd like to know more. Who was he?'

‘He was Brother Alexander, who was master of the lay brothers. He was a good man, a clever man. He joined us some seven or eight years ago.'

‘How old was he?'

The abbot spread his hands and turned to the prior, who shrugged. ‘In middle age – late middle age, perhaps? More than fifty, certainly, but not yet sixty.'

‘But he only took the cowl seven or eight years ago? What did he do before that?'

‘He was out in the world. He had travelled widely, which was why he was going to be my companion on the way to Citeaux.'

‘When did he die?'

‘On Wednesday morning.'

Three days ago, thought Edwin. Hopefully the trail won't have gone too cold. ‘How did it happen?'

‘He was stabbed, God rest his soul. In the back.' The abbot crossed himself again.

Well, that ruled out any lingering doubts Edwin might have had about this all being a misunderstanding. ‘And may I see the body?'

The abbot looked repulsed. ‘No, you may not, as he is already in his grave. And what a very strange and ghoulish request.'

Edwin reflected that he'd had no choice during the last few months but to turn into a ghoulish person. But even so, he should remember that it wasn't the case for others.

After another whisper from the prior, the abbot relented slightly. ‘But I can see why you might have asked it. If you are to find out who killed Brother Alexander then you must learn as much as possible. We do not normally allow outsiders within our precinct, but you have my authorisation to go where you will within the abbey and to talk with the brethren, as long as you do not interrupt the canonical hours in the church.'

‘Thank you, my lord.' Edwin began to rise, sensing he was dismissed.

‘And may God go with you, my son.'

Yes, thought Edwin, as he left the room. If this is all I have to go on, I'll need plenty of His help.

Martin followed Edwin out of the room and noticed that the prior had accompanied them. He was starving – did these monks not eat dinner?

‘Before you go into the abbey proper, perhaps you'd like to go to the guesthouse for something to eat?'

Martin's hand went to his dagger at this evidence of mind-reading, but Edwin was already thanking the prior. He was a cheery-looking fellow for a monk. At least he would be recognisable with all that frizzy hair; Martin had no idea how he was going to tell the others apart when they all wore the same robes. But that was Edwin's problem, mainly – all he had to do was watch Edwin's back. And surely he would have no problem fighting off the monks, who were supposedly peaceful and probably half-starved, anyway. And yet one of them had found the strength to stab his fellow. Maybe it had even been this prior. His hand twitched again.

He walked a couple of paces behind the others while they talked so he could keep an eye on them. The prior seemed keen to chat – he probably didn't get the chance very often, Martin supposed. His face was currently screwed up as if he was trying to remember something as he spoke.

‘Daniel, that was it.'

Edwin replied to him. ‘Daniel who? Daniel of somewhere? Or did he have another name?'

‘Oh, wait now, it will come to me. It was a long time ago he mentioned it – as you'll have understood, we don't speak much in here, and if we do it's only out of necessity. Conversations about our past lives are almost non-existent.' The prior took a few more paces and then stopped. ‘Morton, something like that? Ah, no, wait' – he snapped his fingers – ‘Morley, that was it. Daniel of Morley.'

‘And Brother Alexander spoke of his writings?'

‘Yes, and of what an impact they had had on his learning. I'm sorry, that's probably not much use, but it's the only thing I can really remember about him other than his work here.'

‘Every little thing is useful to me at the moment, Brother, so thank you.' Edwin looked a bit unsure. ‘Can I find out more about Daniel from anyone here?'

The prior shrugged. ‘Father Abbot may know more – he is a learned man. Or Brother Octavian, the precentor.'

‘The what?'

‘The brother who looks after our books – the librarian.'

Martin saw Edwin grimace. ‘I'd better start making some kind of list.'

They arrived at the guesthouse, a long, low building at the edge of the precinct, backing on to the stream, and were introduced to Brother Amandus, the guestmaster. He wore a white robe, had grey hair round the tonsure, and stood with a bit of a stoop. He directed them to two beds at the far end of the room, where they dropped their bags.
A good commander plans ahead
. Martin pointed Edwin to the one furthest away, next to the wall, so he would be between Edwin and the rest of the room. Martin didn't know where his armour had got to, but he'd find out as soon as he was able. He was not pleased to see that Edwin took off his dagger and its belt and stowed it away in his scrip. Martin would talk to him about that later – he shouldn't go round unarmed if he could help it, even if they were in a monastery. But more to the immediate point, the monk was pointing them towards a table in the middle of the chamber where bowls were laid out. He grabbed Edwin and propelled him over. The prior, with whom Edwin had been continuing to talk, laughed heartily before attempting, not very successfully, to turn it into a throat-clearing sound.

Brother Amandus waited until he had finished. ‘Precept fifty-five, Brother Prior, as Father Abbot would no doubt say if he were here.'

The prior nodded. ‘Yes, Brother, I'm sure he would. Now, my sons, I must leave you for the refectory meal and then the noon office of sext. Brother Amandus will guide you to the abbey when you are ready.'

He left, but Martin was already concentrating on the fact that the guestmaster was bringing over a pot of something steaming. He took out his spoon and whispered to Edwin. ‘I wonder what precept fifty-five means?'

Edwin leaned in. ‘It's from the Rule of St Benedict, which the monks live by. Apparently the abbot quotes it a lot.'

Martin was impressed. How did Edwin know these things? He really was clever. Admittedly he was three years older, but Martin couldn't see that he'd be able to think like Edwin even when he reached that age. But right now he didn't need to – his task was to keep Edwin alive and in one piece.

Brother Amandus ladled something into his bowl and Martin looked with a sinking heart at the mess of beans and vegetables before him. He glanced around surreptitiously to see if a meat dish might be forthcoming, but Edwin was already tucking in, as were two other men at the table. Martin sighed and shovelled up a spoonful.

Once he'd cleared his bowl he could think more clearly. Edwin was already engaged in conversation with one of the other guests, whose status Martin couldn't place. Not a lord, not a peasant – maybe a townsman of some description. He thought he'd better help out by trying to talk to the other one, who was sitting at a slight distance and looking away from the others. Decent clothes, nice belt, scabbard holding a dagger with what was probably an eight-inch blade. The wheel pommel of the dagger was embossed, and the chapes on the end of the scabbard and the belt had the same inlaid design. Nice. Certainly more expensive than the weapon he carried, which was the best he could get for the money his father had sent him.

‘Good day to you, sir.'

The other man grunted something and then looked away again, shifting slightly to turn his shoulder to Martin.

Martin didn't like talking at the best of times and had no idea what to say now. Brother Amandus slopped another portion of the meal, which to be fair didn't taste all that bad, into his bowl and he turned his attention back to that.

The monk sat down next to him. ‘That's Sir Philip. He often stops here when he travels between his manors, but he's not one for talking.'

‘Oh.'

‘He normally stays for just a night, maybe two if the weather is bad, but his horse is lame so he'll be here a few days, I expect, while it recovers.'

‘Where —'

‘I know why you're here. Good Lord, I said to myself when I heard the news about poor Brother Alexander, how could one of the brethren do this? If indeed it was one of the brethren, which must be in doubt. Most of us have been here for many years and we serve God together in peace. I prayed that Father Abbot would be able to find out who did it, but I didn't know he was going to send out for someone.'

‘I —'

‘And yet here you are. Once you've finished your meal I'll take you over to the main abbey buildings. Once sext is finished you'll probably want to talk to some of the brethren, won't you? Who will you speak to first?'

‘I don't —'

‘Probably Brother Helias – he's the cellarer, you know – and goes out and about and knows a great many people. Or maybe Brother Octavian: after all Brother Alexander was reading when he …'

‘Thank you, Brother. Really it would be better if you spoke to Edwin. He's the one in charge.'

‘Oh, really? I would have thought … ah, Sir Philip, you've finished? Would you like some more? No? Well then, let me clear your bowl …' He bustled off, and Martin took a deep breath.

He waited for Edwin to finish. Why did he eat so slowly? He bid farewell to Sir Philip and then they followed Brother Amandus across the precinct, as he talked all the while.

Martin bent his head to speak close to Edwin's ear. ‘He's like an old woman.'