Brother's Blood (10 page)

Edwin tried to keep his voice casual. ‘And did you know Brother Alexander well?'

‘No, not at all, beyond our annual discussions.' Aylwin frowned as he thought. ‘He was not your usual monk, though – a hard man who knew his way around a business deal. And, not that two men of business would ever come to blows of course, but I always got the impression that if we did, he could probably break my neck quite easily.'

There was an awkward silence.

Aylwin rushed to fill it. ‘I beg your pardon. I have no idea why I said that – I have no wish to speak ill of the dead.'

Edwin reassured him. ‘Surely it's not speaking ill of a man to think that he would be able to defend himself if necessary, monk or not.' He saw Aylwin nod. If Brother Alexander was capable of defending himself, how tough a man would you need to be to kill him?

‘Anyway,' said Aylwin, ‘let us speak of other matters. Do you have any news on the war which might be of use to a man of business?' He asked the question generally to the room, and at this the knight turned towards them and joined the conversation. Martin, who had finally stopped eating, pushed his bowl aside and leaned on the table to listen.

Edwin understood the first part of it – that Prince Louis, despite the defeat of his forces at Lincoln, was still holding London and most of the South and was not about to give up on his attempt at conquest – but after that the talk became far too military and technical, with Sir Philip finding a keen discussion partner in Martin. Edwin let the talk of sieges, arms and deployments wash over him until he caught the words ‘and Edwin was actually there, of course.'

‘What?' The knight was looking at him disbelievingly. ‘You were at Lincoln?
You
fought in the battle?'

Normally Edwin would never speak disrespectfully to a man of rank, but it had been a long day and he was tired of nobody taking him seriously. ‘Yes, sir. When I met the lord regent he sent me personally on a mission inside the city, and I fought in the battle alongside his nephew John Marshal.' That was perhaps stretching the truth a little, but it was worth it to see the man's jaw sag. ‘But if you will all excuse me, I would prefer not to talk about it.' He rose, nodded to them all, and headed for his bed at the far end of the room.

Later on, as the snores of the other two guests indicated that they were asleep, he prodded Martin. ‘So, where did you go? And did you find anything?'

There was still some faint light in the room, a pale square of window showing the last vestiges of the day and letting in the cool evening air. Edwin saw Martin raise himself on one elbow and look around the room before whispering. ‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you. But I spoke to one of the novices and heard a few things which might be useful.'

Edwin sat up. ‘Tell me.'

‘Well, it turns out they all have to do some physical labour every day, so some of them might be stronger than they look.'

‘Interesting. And?'

‘And what?'

‘What else did you hear?'

Martin thought for a moment. ‘Actually that was about it. The rest of the time he talked about how wonderful it was that he was going to be a monk, how he'd been yearning for it for years and begging them to admit him, but they don't take children here – you have to be fifteen to start as a novice and eighteen to take your final vows, which he will do next year. He had this weird kind of look in his eyes while he was talking about it – I think he might be a bit of a fanatic.'

Edwin was disappointed but tried not to show it. ‘Thanks – I'm sure that will all come in useful.' He was about to lie down again when Martin continued. ‘Oh, and I met the infirmarer. He's …' there was a pause.

‘He's what?'

Martin shrugged. ‘I may as well tell you. He's intimidating. I ran in because I'd heard a scream – there's someone in there with toothache – and he told me off and threw me out as though I was a child.'

Light dawned on Edwin. ‘So that's why you were in such a foul mood when I saw you.' In the half-dark it would have been impossible to see whether Martin was blushing or not.

‘Yes. And I let it interfere with my duty – what if someone had attacked you while I was gone? I'll be more careful next time.'

‘It's all right. I was safe with the cellarer.' He outlined the information he'd gained and watched as Martin nodded and eventually fell asleep.

Edwin lay back on his bed, wide awake, and stared at the roof. Brother Alexander was a man of the world who had come late to the cloister. Had he made enemies during his previous life who had come back to find him? Or was his killer someone from outside whom he had met and offended while on abbey business? Or, most chillingly of all, had one of the other monks, all sworn to a life of peace and brotherhood, become so enraged about something that he had stabbed one of his fellows in the back?

He shivered, but he still could not sleep. After an indeterminate amount of time, when the window had long faded to black and he could see the stars, Edwin heard chanting. He sat up and strained his ears. Of course, it would be the monks at one of their night-time services. Well, he was awake anyway, so what harm would there be in going to see? He might find out something that he wouldn't have done in daylight, especially if he hid himself and watched in secret. He slid his legs over the side of the bed. Martin was a very heavy sleeper and probably wouldn't even wake if Edwin poured water on him, but still he put on his boots as quietly as he could before tiptoeing past the other sleeping figures, out of the guesthouse.

Although the day had been warm, it was chilly in the night air and Edwin wished he had brought his cloak. He kept to the shadows as he crept through the precinct, and hesitated at the great west door of the church. Would it be too obvious if he opened it? But the monks would be in their choir right at the other end of the church and behind a screen. He risked taking hold of the great ring of the door handle and turning it. It was well used and turned easily and silently. He pushed the door open as little as he thought he could get away with, and squeezed through the gap before pushing the door closed again.

It was dark at this end of the church, but he could see the candlelight at the far end as he slipped up the left-hand aisle. When he neared the rood screen he stopped in the shadow of one of the archways. From here he would be able to see the monks as they left the choir and made their way back to the stairway which led up to their dormitory. He stood as still as he could, trying to calm his beating heart, breathe slowly and not shiver too much. Why had he left the warm guesthouse and the comforting presence of other men? It was eerie being in such a huge church, alone and in the dark. He looked into the shadows. Did the spirits of dead monks walk with their brothers during the night? He thought he felt a touch on the back of his neck and turned in terror, but it was a whisper of the night breeze. He forced himself to concentrate. Why was he here? He didn't know, but he hoped he might notice something. Were any of the monks set apart from others? Might there be some clue in the way they looked at each other as to whether any of them suspected any of his brethren?

Eventually the chanting ceased and there were sounds of movement. Edwin shrank further back into the shadow, confident that nobody could see him. They would be turning away from him, not towards him, as they left the choir.

Candlelight spilled out of the archway as the first of the monks stepped through. It was the abbot, walking at a measured pace a few steps ahead of the prior, whose earlier jolly expression had been replaced by one of gravity. The solemn presence of God was easier to feel in the dark of the night. The rest of the monks, carrying candles, followed two by two. The faces inside their cowls were illuminated and Edwin recognised Brother Helias, the cellarer, and Brother Octavian, the precentor who had showed him the books. Both looked serene as they almost glided through the darkness. Less tranquil were the older monks who shuffled, stooped and coughed their way along, among them the ancient brother he'd seen with the boys, who weren't there themselves, or at least not that Edwin could see. Edwin examined every face as they emerged from the choir and turned their backs on him, but he could discern no feelings of suspicion or guilt among them. Finally a younger monk, the one Edwin had seen in the cellarer's office, came yawning at the rear and turned away with his light.

Edwin was left in darkness. Well, that had been a useless exercise. He could just as well have stayed in bed for all he had learned. He would go back there now. But wait, what was that?

The light from another candle was spilling out of the choir archway and Edwin froze as two more monks emerged. Instead of heading away to follow their brothers, these ones turned to their right and came towards Edwin. He shrank back into the darkness of the archway as much as he could – what would happen if he was discovered? The stone was cold on his back and he shivered.

And then he looked at their faces.

He was seized with such terror that he would not have been able to move even if he had wanted to. He could feel the hair on his head standing up on end, his skin prickling all over as the apparition came nearer. He couldn't tear his eyes away. It … this … just wasn't possible.

Long after the monks had passed on their way, Edwin sat on the floor in the archway, waiting until his knees had stopped trembling enough for him to be able to stand up again. Then, using the cold stone as a support, he hauled himself to his feet. Shivering, he cast a final look at the space where the monks had gone, and then he ran through the church as fast as he could and fled out into the night.

Martin woke up and stretched, aware of the slight ache in his arms from yesterday's wood-chopping. It felt good.

It was getting light but it was still early judging by the sun shining very low through the window. Yawning and rubbing his eyes, he took himself out of the guesthouse to the latrine building behind it, conveniently situated over the stream, and then returned to pick up his tunic from the end of the bed. Once he'd got it over his head and manoeuvred his arms into the sleeves – too short, as his sleeves always were – he shuffled over to Edwin's bed to wake him up.

Edwin wasn't there.

Martin felt the cold hand of fear around his heart.
A good commander doesn't jump to conclusions. Be
disciplined
. He went back to the latrine building, but it was empty. He looked in and indeed under every one of the six beds in the guesthouse, although he could see with one glance that two were occupied by the other guests and the other four were empty. Edwin's cloak was draped over the end of his bed, and his bag was still there; Martin looked in it and saw that wherever he was, Edwin had not taken his dagger with him. Damn the man!

Striding out of the door even as he belted his sword and dagger around him, Martin wondered where in the Lord's name he should start looking. And how had anyone managed to get past him and capture Edwin during the night? He must have struggled, surely, or made some kind of noise? And yet Martin hadn't woken, and neither, apparently, had the other guests; and there were no obvious signs of a fight. Surely Edwin wouldn't have gone anywhere willingly during the hours of darkness.

The church loomed in front of him as he made his way through the precinct – that was as good a place to start as any. He pushed open the west door and marched up through the middle of the open space. He couldn't see Edwin, but there were chapels and nooks and crannies all over the place. He'd better be methodical. He went back to the main door and began to work his way slowly up one side of the church – he'd look all the way around until he got back to where he'd started. He wanted to shout out Edwin's name, but even panicked as he was he couldn't bring himself to shatter the profound silence.

Eventually he reached the chapel with the statue of the Blessed Virgin, where he'd seen a monk kneeling in supplication the day before. His gaze swept round and he was about to duck out again when he spotted Edwin. He was sitting on the floor with his back wedged into a corner, knees drawn up to his chin, arms around them with fists clenched. He was pale, his eyes were closed and he was not moving.

Martin ran over, grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. Edwin awoke with a start and started to yell, striking out at him with his fists. His eyes were wild. Martin dragged him to his feet. ‘Edwin! Edwin, it's me! What's the matter?'

His words had the desired effect and Edwin gradually calmed down. He grabbed a fistful of Martin's tunic. ‘Is it really you?'

‘Yes. What in God's name is the matter with you?'

Edwin didn't let go of him. ‘I saw a ghost. An apparition.'

‘What? When?'

‘Here, in the church. Last night. I ran out but then I came back to pray here because I thought it would be safer.'

‘What were you doing in the church in the middle of the night? Why didn't you wake me? For God's sake, I'm supposed to be looking after you!'

Edwin didn't answer. Martin fought down the urge to give him a good shake, unsure whether he should be angry that Edwin had gone out without him, or relieved that he hadn't come to any harm. Or at least, no physical harm.

The noise they were making had attracted attention, and Martin turned at the sound of a throat being cleared to see the one with all the frizzy hair, the prior, standing in the entrance to the chapel.

‘Are you both all right?'

Martin looked at Edwin, but he didn't say anything. ‘Yes, Father – Brother – sorry – Edwin has had a fright. I don't know what happened but he says he saw a ghost.'

The prior raised his eyebrows but remained calm, walking over to Edwin and gently disentangling his still-clenched fist from the front of Martin's tunic. Martin smoothed it down as he stepped back, grateful that someone else was taking charge.