Brother's Blood (27 page)

Sir Philip gestured at Edwin. ‘If you're so clever, you tell me.'

‘Very well. You can correct me where I go wrong.'

‘Fine.'

Edwin hoped to the Lord he wasn't about to make a fool of himself. ‘You visit here regularly. This is partly because it is on the way between your manors and therefore it is a convenient place to stop.'

Sir Philip made an irritated gesture. ‘Everyone knows this.'

‘But it is also because one of the monks is related to you. You stop here so you can talk to him … and ask his advice.'

There was a flicker in the knight's eye and Edwin knew he was right.

He continued. ‘Your estates are … not prospering. You're losing money.'

Sir Philip ran one hand through his hair. ‘Yes! Yes, you're right. I'm a warrior, not a clerk – I need someone to manage my estates properly.'

Edwin nodded. ‘And, of course, it would be better if that someone was from your own family. To start with I wondered – a son, a nephew – but when I worked out who it was and looked at your ages … he's your brother, isn't he?'

‘Who?' Both Aylwin and Brother Amandus spoke at once, and then tried to look as though they hadn't.

Sir Philip sighed. ‘It's not a secret. Or not particularly, anyway – I just don't like people prying into my business. Yes, Helias is my brother.'

Edwin nodded again as the others all exclaimed their surprise. ‘And he'd make a superb steward for your estates. Just look at the work he does here as the cellarer – the abbey is prospering, there is food, drink, materials … and he organises it all.' He looked at the knight. ‘But he doesn't want to leave, does he?'

Sir Philip's irritation started to show. ‘No. He says he is
content
here, that he is
happy
. What is that when it comes to family honour and fortune?'

‘So this time you thought you'd stay a while longer and try harder to persuade him. And to cover up the reason for it, you pretended your horse was lame.'

The knight threw up his hands. ‘I concede.' He shook his head. ‘How you can possibly have worked all that out, I don't know.'

Brother Amandus was looking at Sir Philip, at his dark hair and build. ‘But – forgive me, my son – but you don't look in the slightest bit alike. Nobody could possibly have guessed you were brothers.'

‘No, so we've always been told. Which is probably why not many people realise. We used to have another brother – dead, now – who was between us in age and who somehow managed to resemble both of us slightly. If you'd seen all three of us together then you might have guessed we were brothers. But Helias and I are different in looks, temperament, everything.' He surveyed the men around him once more, looking tired. ‘So, now you know all, if you will excuse me I will go out and get some air.'

After he left, there was silence. Then Brother Amandus broke it, realising how late it was and that he had not yet cleared the dishes. He did so now, talking to himself under his breath. ‘Never would have … so unalike … fancy Brother Helias having …'

Edwin, too, was weary, and now his other thoughts crowded in on him.

Aylwin patted him on the shoulder. ‘You're a very clever young fellow. I'll leave you to it now, but once you've solved everything else you have to tell me why the wool ledger is so important.' He too departed.

Martin, who had by now sat down again, finally spoke. ‘For God's sake, next time you're going to do something like that, tell me!'

‘Sorry. But I knew that if I was right then there was no danger.'

‘And what if you were wrong, eh?'

Edwin felt exhausted to the very centre of his bones. ‘But I wasn't. And now I need to think about the rest.' The veil was beginning to descend again, and this time he couldn't fend it off.

‘I take it you don't think Sir Philip was involved?'

‘No.'

‘Then who?'

Edwin shook his head. ‘Tomorrow.' He moved over to his bed and then hesitated. ‘I don't think I'm going to sleep much. I was going to go to the church to sit and think, but you probably don't want me to, do you?'

‘Not a chance. If you do then I'll follow you and you won't get much thinking done anyway, so you may as well stay here where it's warm.'

Edwin nodded and wrapped a blanket around himself. He allowed the world around him to fade. Soon Martin was asleep and Edwin stared ahead of him as the moonlight shone in through the window. He had to be right. There was no other possible explanation. He began once more to run over in his head the way events must have played out, and to plan the trap he would spring on the morrow.

When morning came he wasn't sure whether he had slept or not, but despite his sandy eyes and his pounding head he knew what he was going to do.

He shook Martin. ‘Time to get up.'

Martin was normally a heavy sleeper but he evidently scented action in the air for he woke and rolled himself to his feet all in one move. ‘Today's the day, isn't it? Tell me what to do.'

A short time later they were dressed and on their way to Chapter, for Edwin wanted to make sure that Brother Eugenius and the lay brother Sinnulph made their confessions as agreed.

Edwin installed himself in the same position he had occupied the other day, Martin a pace behind him. The one brown robe among all the white was very noticeable, and once the initial prayers had been said, the abbot indicated that Sinnulph should step forward.

There was – well, Edwin couldn't really call it a murmur of surprise, as the monks held their silence, but a kind of collective breath – as the abbot explained why Sinnulph was there, and invited him to confess.

The lay brother assumed the penitent position on the floor and began his tale. Edwin was pleased to note that it was full, but plain and unembellished. He told the facts about his sister and her family, about exactly what had been stolen to feed them, and about the pressure he had brought to bear on Brother Eugenius, but he did not claim to have threatened violence.

There was a profound silence as Sinnulph finished speaking and laid his head back on the floor.

The abbot's eyes swept the room. ‘Before I ask the rest of the brethren for their thoughts, I believe we had better hear Brother Eugenius. Step forward, if you please.'

Nobody moved.

Edwin was immediately on the alert, looking at the backs of everyone's heads. He couldn't tell who was who from here.

The abbot sounded impatient. ‘Brother Eugenius, it is your duty to step forward.'

By now the monks were craning their necks to look around the chapterhouse themselves, and it did not take long to confirm what Edwin already suspected: Brother Eugenius was not there.

Abbot Reginald allowed some of his anger to show in his voice. ‘Brothers, this would appear to be unprecedented. It looks as though Brother Eugenius is too afraid to confess to his sin and has therefore evaded Chapter for that purpose. However, I will not judge him until I know what has happened – there is a possibility that he has fallen or is lying ill somewhere. Let us search the abbey for him.' He nodded at the prior, who moved swiftly among the monks allocating them places to look and giving them permission to call out his name and to speak aloud if they found the missing brother.

As the brethren filed out, the abbot was left in the chapterhouse with Edwin, Martin and the still-prostrate Sinnulph. The abbot looked down upon him. ‘Rise, Brother, and go about your duties for now. By the time Brother Eugenius is found it will be time for the
lectio divina
, so this Chapter will reconvene tomorrow.'

Had Edwin detected a shade of sympathy in his voice? He could not be sure. Brother Sinnulph stood, bowed low, and left the room without speaking.

The abbot approached Edwin and Martin. ‘What do you know of Brother Eugenius?'

Edwin shook his head. ‘Only what Brother Sinnulph has already confessed, my lord. I taxed them both with questions yesterday and they told me of what had passed. It's true that Brother Eugenius was very upset at the thought of confessing, but I was sure that he was determined to do it.' He gestured at the empty room. ‘I'm surprised he isn't here – and a little worried.'

A shadow crossed the abbot's face. ‘Let us hope, for all our sakes, that he has simply tripped and fallen somewhere, and will be found with a swollen ankle.'

Martin's voice came from behind Edwin. ‘Pardon me, my lord, but perhaps Edwin and I could help with the search? Not in the abbey itself, maybe, but out in the precinct or the other buildings. It would give us something to do, and the more searchers, the better?'

Edwin didn't think he'd ever heard Martin sounding so deferential to anyone except the lord earl, and he wondered if there was a particular reason. But the abbot was nodding, saying that they could go, and that he would remain in the chapterhouse praying and waiting for news.

Their way out of the abbey building led them across the cloister and then in the door to the lay brothers' grange and through the passage there. There were worried-looking monks both inside and outside, and Edwin wondered where on earth they should start.

He was glad when Martin took charge. ‘He is obviously not in any of the places he is supposed to be, so let's start by checking the places he isn't supposed to be. The guesthouse, the stables, the outbuildings. They're all along this side of the precinct so we can move through them methodically.'

Edwin agreed, but they had barely reached the guesthouse when alarmed shouts came from the direction of the abbey building. They turned to see all the monks rushing in one direction, so they followed.

The crowd led to a flight of stairs and up to a part of the abbey Edwin hadn't visited so far: the monks' dormitory. A row of thin pallets was laid out on each side down the length of the room, all currently empty except for a neatly folded blanket. There was a crush of men towards the far end, talking, exclaiming, praying, and Edwin tried to get closer.

‘Stand aside!' The raised voice was the abbot's, and the room fell silent immediately as the monks stood back with bowed heads to allow him a path. Edwin slipped behind him.

A monk was lying on the last bed at the end of the row. It was Brother Eugenius. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling and away from the huge red stain seeping across the front of his white robe. A knife was protruding from his chest, and he was quite clearly dead.

Brother Richard woke up.

He opened his eyes but did not move. The blur in front of him eventually became a ceiling, but not the familiar rafters of the dormitory which had been his home for so many years. Where was he?

He attempted to move and was overcome by a wave of pain which left him gasping. The infirmary, he was in the infirmary. That was it. He had suffered from toothache, had some teeth pulled, and then after that it had all been a bad dream. He had a vague recollection of figures around his bed, of prayers, of bitter-tasting things being dripped into his mouth, of the sharp pain in his arm from the bleeding. And the agony, the ever-present agony in his face, his skin stretched and full to bursting.

Cautiously, he tried to move his right hand. It responded to him. He lifted it – heavy as lead! – to his face. His face was still there. It felt like a normal face. There was pain in his mouth but he could bear it.

He put his hand back by his side and listened. It was quiet. With a great effort he turned his head a little and saw that he was behind a screen, on his own. He laid his head back again. He would wait, and eventually someone – Brother Durand – would come.

Yes, Brother Durand had been there, hadn't he? All through the dream, the nightmare, through the darkness and the light. Brother Durand had hurt him, trying to smear something on his face and get liquid into his mouth. But Brother Durand had done this to save his life. He was alive.

Other figures in white robes had been there. He had heard them praying. He had survived because of their prayers.

Something troubled him, but he didn't know what it was. Some fleeting recollection that he could not pin down. He would lie still until it came back to him. He should pray and give thanks.
Pater noster, qui es in
…

He had it. One of the figures who had been around his bed had not been in a white robe. Someone who was not a monk had come to see him. He moved his fingers as he remembered the pressure on his hand. A man he didn't know had come to speak to him. He couldn't remember what it was about.

He might have dozed again, or he might just have stared at the ceiling. Brother Alexander. He must speak with Brother Alexander. He opened his mouth, unsure if he would be able to make a noise.

And then it came crashing in on him and he thought he would be sick. Thank the Lord he wasn't, for that would have caused much pain in his mouth and to his face. He could feel his heart pounding faster. Brother Alexander was dead. He was dead and he, Brother Richard, needed to talk to the man who had visited him. He didn't know why, he couldn't remember, but it was important. He wanted to cry but his eyes were too dry and he felt them stinging.