Brother's Blood (30 page)

‘I will tell Father Abbot that you both came here and threatened to kill me, and that I struck out in self-defence. Edwin will be dead, Brother Guy cannot speak, and nobody will take your word over mine.'

He was never going to get away with it, but he still had the knife, and Martin knew he would use it – after all, it looked like he had already murdered two others. The safest thing to do for now would be to allow him out and then follow at a safe distance until he could somehow get the blade away from him. Martin nodded to Brother Guy, who was no doubt thinking along the same lines. They both moved aside to make the path to the door wider.

‘Pick up the book. Carefully!' Brother Octavian was addressing the still-silent Edwin, who obeyed. ‘Now move.' They started to walk towards the doorway. ‘You two – stay well back.'

Martin kept his eyes on Brother Octavian's face. He was mad, and mad people were unpredictable. His fingers itched to try and tackle the monk as he went past, to try and wrest the knife from him, but he couldn't risk it.

And then Brother Octavian stopped and turned whiter than his robe. Martin actually saw the colour drain from his face as it assumed an expression of profound terror. He was looking past Martin, and Martin risked a glance behind him. Two monks had appeared at the top of the stairs – the novice Benedict, gaunt and skeletal, and another whom he was supporting who looked like death. Martin had to look twice to check that Benedict wasn't hauling a corpse around with him, but the man was apparently breathing. Martin didn't recognise him – older, tallish, blond hair going grey. He'd never seen anyone so ill standing up.

But the effect on Brother Octavian was astounding. He stopped and stuttered out some words. ‘Brother Alexander … dear God, you've come back …' He started to back away, still keeping hold of Edwin. ‘You've come for your book … take it, take it!' His voice rose to a shriek as he shoved Edwin's arms forward to proffer the book.

And in doing so, he moved the knife away from Edwin's side.

Martin threw himself forward, forcing the monk's arm up and away. Then he grabbed Edwin and pulled him hard, turning them both so his own body was between Edwin and Brother Octavian.

He looked up, expecting the knife to descend at any moment, but Brother Guy had reacted almost as quickly: he took two paces forward and then landed such a huge punch to Brother Octavian's head that the
smack
noise echoed around the room. The monk crumpled silently into a heap with the lay brother standing over him.

There was another movement from the door as the corpse-like monk fainted and Benedict failed to take his weight properly – Brother Guy caught them both and lowered them safely to the floor. Then he sat down heavily himself.

Martin was in the corner, still shielding Edwin with his body. He put his hand down to the wound in Edwin's side but it came away only with a small brownish stain on it, thank the Lord. He looked at the chaos and the bodies around him and had no idea what was going on. Perhaps one day someone would explain it to him, but right now nobody else seemed capable of speech or movement. He lifted his head and bellowed as loudly as he could, sure that the sound would carry out the building and across the silent abbey. ‘Help! Someone! Help!'

Edwin realised that he wasn't dead.

He had been in some kind of daze, the voices washing over him and even the sharp stabbing in his side not waking him completely. Now he came back to himself, piece by piece. He was on the floor. Someone was cradling him – Martin. He was still clutching the book to his chest. His side hurt. He could move his hands and feet. He was alive. He wasn't yet sure whether he was pleased about this or not, but it was undeniable.

Brother Helias made a breathless entrance into the room. ‘What is —' He looked around him in horror. But then, as Edwin watched, he took charge. He issued orders to those crowding in behind him to fetch the abbot, the prior and Brother Durand, while he himself crouched to check on the condition of the three prone monks.

‘Can you stand?' The voice in Edwin's ear was Martin's, and he nodded. He felt himself being lifted to his feet and then he stood with Martin's steadying hands still on his shoulders. The pain in his side briefly prickled as he stretched himself upright, but it soon subsided.

Brother Guy was also now back on his feet, and he stood over Brother Octavian. When the cellarer tried to approach he held up one hand. Surprised at being thus impeded by a lay brother, Brother Helias stopped. ‘What is it?' Brother Guy pointed firmly at the unconscious monk, then at Edwin, and then made a downward stabbing motion with his hand.

‘He did what?' Brother Helias strode over to Edwin and Martin and noticed for the first time the stain on his tunic. ‘You are wounded? Badly?'

Edwin shook his head, wondering if he could take a vow of silence, starting now. He did not have the energy or the heart to start explaining everything, though he knew he must in due course. But he had to keep his dark secret to himself, for if any hint of his wish for self-slaughter were to become public knowledge he would be forever condemned.

By this time Brother Durand had appeared and he was speaking to the novice Benedict, who had managed to sit up. The other monk was still unconscious – good God, was that Brother Richard? Edwin hadn't seen him since the huge swelling had gone from his face, so he couldn't be sure it was the same man to whom he had spoken and over whose bed he had prayed, but the prone man was about the right age, and surely there was nobody else in the abbey who was that ill. Something else fell into place and he stepped forward, shaking off Martin's arm. He did not let go of the book.

The abbot had also appeared and he was issuing brisk orders for the sick and injured monks to be taken to the infirmary. Brother Guy did not dare to stop him but he did attract the cellarer's attention and pointed from the abbot to Brother Octavian.

Brother Helias murmured to the abbot, words Edwin did not catch, but from the gestures he worked out the gist of it.

The abbot stepped over to Edwin. ‘Is this true? Brother Octavian made an attempt on your life?'

Edwin nodded.

‘And you think he is also responsible for the deaths of Brother Alexander and Brother Eugenius?'

Edwin nodded again.

The abbot looked down at the still-unconscious monk with an expression of anguish. ‘Very well. But he still needs to go to the infirmary.' He looked around at the various options available, at the monks and lay brothers of varying degrees of age and fitness who now filled the room. ‘Brother Guy. Please take Brother Octavian to the infirmary and place him in a bed away from other brethren. Stand by him and, if he wakes, do not let him leave or even rise from the bed. You may take another brother with you to help carry him.'

Brother Guy bowed low, then bent down and easily scooped up the librarian in his burly arms. With another respectful inclination of the head towards the abbot he left the room.

‘Or not, if you don't need any help,' the abbot murmured under his breath. ‘Don't go anywhere,' he said to Edwin and Martin, before moving to consult with the infirmarer. Edwin remained silent as he watched. Benedict was now on his feet and was being supported by another brother who was instructed to accompany him back to the infirmary.

‘And Brother Richard?' the abbot was asking, which confirmed to Edwin the man's identity. The stricken monk was also starting to come round, and as his eye fell on Edwin he pointed and tried to sit up.

‘He has not helped himself, Father, but I think he has not hindered his recovery too seriously.' Brother Durand surveyed the room. ‘I have no idea how he got here, Father, or what his intention was, but with your permission I would prefer to get him back into bed before any further inquiries are made.'

The abbot nodded. ‘Yes, do so. Should we fashion a stretcher?'

‘I'll carry him, if you like.' Martin stepped forward.

Brother Durand initially looked as though he would snap at the offer, but he stopped himself after a warning glance from the prior. ‘Thank you. That would be most welcome. But please – carefully.'

Martin settled Brother Richard in his arms and nodded at the infirmarer. ‘Lead the way.'

The prior now shooed any remaining stragglers out of the room, and Edwin was left alone with the abbot.

Abbot Reginald looked about ten years older than he had when Edwin had first met him. He rubbed a hand across his face and moved to half-sit on the edge of the table. ‘And so.'

Edwin looked after the departing party. ‘I believe I now have everything straight, my lord, but as there is no longer any danger to anyone, might I take just a little more time? I can explain everything, but I need to talk to Brother Richard first.'

‘Brother Richard? What does he have to do with all this?'

‘More than you might think, my lord. So may I?'

‘You may. Please come and see me in my parlour when you have finished. I shall go there now to await you and to pray.' He hesitated. ‘Incidentally, why are you holding one of our wool ledgers?'

Edwin had almost forgotten he was still carrying the book. His arms were stiff as he held it out. ‘Please take this with you, my lord. Keep it shut for now, but when you get back to your parlour, open it and look inside. And when I get back I will tell you everything, I promise.' He turned towards the door, leaving the abbot gazing in puzzlement at the perfectly ordinary-looking volume in his hands.

By the time Edwin reached the infirmary all the men had been settled. A bed had been moved right into one corner of the room, away from the others: this contained Brother Octavian, now beginning to come round. He had the makings of a huge bruise on his jaw. Brother Guy stood in silence, unmoving, his arms folded, watching him. Edwin remembered the noise of his fist striking flesh and bone and had no doubt that Brother Octavian wouldn't be able to escape.

Benedict was sitting up in another bed, with the ancient novicemaster next to him holding a bowl of broth and a spoon. He nodded to Edwin as he passed.

The screen was still in place at the far end of the infirmary. Martin was standing next to it and he made room for Edwin so they could both see round. Brother Richard was in bed but sitting, supported by pillows, and he looked a little more alive. Prior Henry and Brother Durand were praying by his bedside; as Edwin watched they crossed themselves and Brother Durand gestured that Edwin could speak with the sick man.

Propped in his sitting position, Brother Richard was still pale, his face drawn with pain, but the terrible swelling was now gone and he was able to raise his hand and even offer a tired smile of greeting.

Edwin saw that there was a stool by the side of the bed. ‘May I sit and speak with you?'

Brother Richard gestured his permission.

‘I'm sorry to disturb you when you need to rest, but it would be very helpful if I could ask you a few questions. I'll try not to tire you out, and as far as I can I'll make them questions you can answer with a yes or a no.'

Brother Richard nodded his head, moving it as little as possible.

‘You travelled with Brother Alexander, didn't you? When you were both younger?'

A nod.

‘To start with you went to Paris, but after that you travelled south, to the lands of the Moors?'

Nod.

‘Where you studied with masters? You, Brother Alexander and another man called Daniel of Morley.'

Nod.

‘The prior was confused when he mentioned the name to me. It wasn't the
writings
of Daniel which had a great influence on Brother Alexander – it was the man himself.'

A slight shrug. Edwin got back to his point.

‘And then you all came back, what, twenty, twenty-five years ago? And you all became monks.'

This time Brother Richard shook his head.

Edwin was confused. ‘You didn't all come back? Or you didn't all become monks?' He realised what he was doing. ‘Oh, sorry, that's not very helpful, is it. You all travelled back to England together?'

Nod.

‘And you all joined religious orders?'

Brother Richard put up his hand to stop Edwin. He opened his mouth and shut it a couple of times, as if unfamiliar with the feeling. He cleared his throat, tentatively. Then he managed a few words, his voice rusty and the words unformed. ‘Daniel – Aug-us-tin-i-an. Me – here. Alex-ander went to teach. At the school at St Al-bans. Took the cowl later – came here.'

This time it was Edwin's turn to nod. ‘And he came here because of you, didn't he? That's why he travelled across more than half of the kingdom to join the Order here, rather than taking orders at a monastery nearer to where he lived?'

‘Yes.'

‘Because he was your brother, wasn't he? I mean, not just your brother in the Order, but your actual brother, your blood brother.'

Brother Richard's eyes filled with tears and for a moment he couldn't speak, then he forced some words out. ‘Yes. We went … ever-y-where toge-ther when we were younger.' Pause. ‘Then he tra-velled and I missed him, so when he went a-gain I … went too.' He put his hand up to his jaw, the effort of so much speaking obviously paining him.