Brother's Blood (8 page)

But Martin wasn't in the guesthouse either. Edwin stood in puzzlement. Where in the Lord's name could he be?

Martin ran with his sword in his hand in the direction of where the scream had come from. He paused, faced with several stone buildings which all looked similar. One of them was the abbot's house, wasn't it? Where they'd been earlier? But it hadn't come from there, surely. He wished Sir Geoffrey was here.

The cry came again, nearer this time, allowing him to locate it. He burst through the nearest open door.

He was in a large, long room with beds on either side and a table in the middle. It looked a little like the guest quarters. The noise was coming from the far end so he strode towards it. Was someone else being murdered? Dear God, what if it was Edwin?

‘
STOP
!'

Martin skidded to a halt at the authority of the voice. A monk had stepped round from behind a screen which hid something at the end of the room. Martin didn't think he was a monk he'd seen before – this one was tall and completely bald. In his hands he held a bowl.

The bowl was full to the brim with blood.

The monk moved towards him, and Martin raised his sword. From behind the screen came groans and cries.

‘Put that down. You are in a house of God!'

Martin didn't move. ‘You put that down first.'

The monk looked at him in surprise, and then at the blood he carried. Enlightenment dawned. ‘Ah, I see.' He put the bowl down on the table and folded his arms. He looked steadily at Martin until he sheathed his sword. Only then did the monk speak again.

‘I am Brother Durand, the infirmarer. And you are?'

The infirmarer? Ah … Martin made the best of it and bowed. ‘Martin Dubois, squire to my lord the Earl Warenne, and here at his orders.'

‘Here to invade my infirmary?'

Martin felt his cheeks grow red. ‘No. Well, what I mean is – I heard a scream. And someone here has already been murdered …'

Brother Durand looked at him steadily until he faltered into silence. Martin felt the eyes boring into him. ‘Murdered, yes, but not here and not by me. And even then that would give you no excuse, no authority, to come running in here under arms.'

Martin said nothing and looked at his feet.

‘Not that I need to explain myself to you, but the cries you heard were from Brother Richard, who has an abscess of the tooth. He needed bleeding, and I needed to examine his face and jaw. He screamed as I probed.'

‘I, er …'

‘So, if that is all, I have matters to attend to. While you are here at the abbey, you will not set foot in this infirmary again unless I give my permission, is that clear?'

‘Yes, Brother.'

‘Good. Now go.'

It was only after Martin had left the building that he started to think of all the things he should have said, the actions he should have taken. He, senior squire to one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, thrown out of the room like a child! Why, he had a good mind to —

‘There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?' Edwin appeared beside him.

‘Where have
you
been, you mean. You're supposed to be here to sort this out so we can leave again, not spend your time looking at books and talking to men too feeble to hold a sword or so weak they cry with the toothache.'

He shoved past Edwin and stalked off.

Edwin stood at something of a loss. The monks were emerging from the church – nones must be quite a short service – and heading in different directions, presumably to work on other duties. Should he follow any of them? But before he could decide, he felt a touch on his arm. It was a monk, a choir monk in a white robe whom he hadn't seen before. This one had reddish hair around his tonsure and was about forty-ish, Edwin would guess.

‘You are Edwin? The man the lord abbot sent for?'

‘Yes, yes I am – Brother …?'

‘I'm Brother Helias, my son, the cellarer. I had word that you wished to see me?'

‘Ah, yes, thank you. I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about Brother Alexander and what he did here? Who did he deal with, did he ever go out of the abbey, that kind of thing?'

The monk nodded. ‘I can tell you all you require about Brother Alexander's duties. I have time now while the brethren are undertaking their afternoon's physical labour. But perhaps we would be more comfortable in my office than out here in the precinct?' He gestured and Edwin followed him across the open space, past a warren of smaller buildings and into a room which reminded him very much of the steward's office at Conisbrough. He sat on a stool indicated to him by Brother Helias and looked around at the storage kists and the neat rolls of parchment stacked up on shelves on the wall. He sniffed – a hint of herbs and spices. He felt at home.

‘So, being cellarer is a bit like being the steward?'

Brother Helias eased himself down on to a bench and nodded. ‘Yes. I'm in charge of all the provisions in the abbey – not just food and drink but also things like leather for our sandals and the lay brothers' boots, and cloth to make our habits. It's one of the more worldly positions here, as I need to talk to men outside the abbey quite often, but it is of some small importance to the brethren, for if I get my orders wrong we might end up with nothing to eat. Which reminds me – Brother?'

Edwin looked around, surprised to see that a younger monk had been sitting quietly in the corner all this time. He was near a small window which cast light on the parchments he was reading, spread out on a table, but he himself was in shadow. These monks really knew how to be silent. Frighteningly so.

The monk stood as Brother Helias beckoned him. ‘Have you finished reading the delivery list for the wine?'

The younger man nodded without speaking.

‘Good. Take it with you down to the cellar and check it against the barrels which arrived this morning. Take a piece of charcoal with you and mark off each item on the list as you see it in the cellar. Make a note of any barrels without entries on the list, or items on the list for which there are no barrels.'

The monk bowed his head, picked up a parchment and a stick of charcoal from the table, and walked out of the room. Edwin would swear that even his sandals made no sound on the floor.

Brother Helias turned back to him. ‘He will be the next cellarer after me, so he needs to learn. If the lists of what we are supposed to have don't match what's actually in the cellar or the stores, it can cause problems.'

Edwin nodded. ‘Yes, I know. My uncle William is the steward at my lord's castle in Conisbrough, and he checks everything very carefully. I often help him with his additions and calculations.'

‘Ah, you do, do you? An apprentice cellarer yourself? Well then …' Brother Helias allowed a smile to crease his face as he rocked back on the bench, an expression of concentration on his face. ‘Tell me, if I ordered three ten-gallon barrels of wine at fourpence a gallon, four ten-gallon barrels of ale at a penny a gallon, and eight pounds of pepper at four shillings a pound, how much would —'

‘Two pounds, five shillings and fourpence, Brother, though William would balk at paying four shillings a pound for pepper.'

Brother Helias gaped at him. Edwin shrugged. ‘Sorry, Brother, I didn't mean to be impertinent. Adding up like that is something I've always been able to do – I don't know why.'

‘It's a gift from the Lord, that's what it is. If you ever decide to become a monk, my son, ask them to let you work with the cellarer.' He continued staring and then shook his head as if to clear it. ‘I am sorry I allowed myself to change the subject. Levity is not a desired trait among the brethren – precept fifty-four, as Father Abbot would no doubt say. I shall confess my transgression later.'

He looked serious, but Edwin thought he could discern the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth. It was nice to think that at least some of the monks might still be real people underneath. Which brought him back to the fact that he still knew nothing about the man whose death he was supposed to be looking into. ‘But anyway, back to Brother Alexander, if I may. Did he also have dealings with people outside these walls?'

Brother Helias sighed and crossed himself. ‘Yes, he did. As the master of the lay brothers he was always out and about. Only half of our lay brothers actually work here in the abbey – the others are scattered round and about in different granges, like separate farms – and so he would visit each in turn to check up on their work.'

‘And was he popular? I mean, might there have been any of the lay brothers who didn't like him?'

Brother Helias looked shocked. ‘My son, none of the brethren could possibly have wanted to kill Brother Alexander. The whole notion is impossible.'

Edwin hastened to soothe him. ‘I'm sure they wouldn't, Brother, but the fact is that somebody killed him, and the more I can find out about him and what he did, the better. Especially if he had contact with many people outside the abbey?'

The defensive attitude softened a little. ‘Well, yes, when you put it like that … of course it is much more likely that the culprit is someone from outside. Perhaps a disgruntled farmer or trader who wanted to sell to us and was annoyed that we grow much of our own produce? Or a wool merchant? Brother Alexander, with his knowledge of the outside world before he came here, was the one of us who struck the bargains with the merchants to whom we sell our fleeces.'

Now there was an idea which started Edwin's mind working. He had seen traders and merchants often at the fairs in Conisbrough, and knew that they took their prices and their deals very seriously. He had often heard trade referred to as a cut-throat business, but would anyone take the phrase literally? He would need to think about that some more.

But in the meantime, what of this ‘knowledge of the outside world' which several of the monks had mentioned? ‘Do you know anything about what Brother Alexander did before he took the cowl?'

Brother Helias spread his hands. ‘Alas not. All I can tell you is what you probably know already – that he was out in the world for many years, that he travelled, and that he came to the monastic life in his middle years.'

‘Have you ever heard of the writings of a man called Daniel of Morley?'

Edwin watched as the monk searched his mind. ‘No, sorry. I must admit that I am much less adept at the studying part of our duties than many of the brethren, though I do try.' He sighed. ‘I try to love all parts of my life here equally, but I confess I am more at home in my domain here than I am with the books.' He gestured at the office.

‘Not to worry, Brother – I just asked on the off-chance. Is there anyone else here who might know more? Not just about the writings of Daniel of Morley, I mean, but about Brother Alexander's life before he came here?'

Brother Helias was in the act of shaking his head when he stopped. ‘Well, there is Brother Richard, I suppose. We are not supposed to have particular friends among the brethren, but men being what they are, everyone has some whose company they value more than others, and they were often together. If they were outside the abbey and able to talk, I suppose Brother Alexander may have told him something of his previous life.' He shrugged. ‘That is the best I can come up with, I'm afraid. And you won't be able to talk to Brother Richard anyway, as he is confined to the infirmary with toothache.'

Toothache? Hadn't Martin said something about that earlier? He would check – if he could track Martin down, that was. What in the Lord's name was the matter with him at the moment?

Feeling that the conversation was at an end, Edwin was about to stand and take his leave when the younger monk returned. This time he opened his mouth, shaking the parchment in front of Brother Helias and whispering urgently in his ear. The older monk stood and smiled down.

‘Alas, it appears we do have a discrepancy, so I had best go and deal with the matter. Please come and speak with me again whenever you wish – unless it is time for one of the offices in church I am normally in here or round about.'