The Warlock Heretical (12 page)

"And this nobleman is Rod Gallowglass, the Lord Warlock." Father Boquilva looked up at Brother Clyde again.

"I must speak with these good folk awhile; wilt thou join Brother Neder and Father Mersey in my place?"

"Aye, and cheerfully." Brother Clyde sighed. "Is not that mine office? Good day, good folk!" He bobbed his head

to them, and walked on toward the plow.

Page 84

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"This is a monk's life," Father Boquilva explained as they went in, "prayer at morning and night, and hard work

between, then rising to pray in the midnight also. Yet that thou hast already seen, when thou didst watch us

aforetime."

Gregory looked up, startled. "How didst thou know we did watch?"

"Why, for that thou didst come to aid us in fighting," Father Boquilva said easily, sitting at a long table made of

rough-hewn boards. " 'Ware splinters, now . . . and how couldst thou have come, then, if thou hadst not been

watching, hm? Yet this thou hast not seen—the inside of the chapter house. Regard how monks live." Gregory looked about him. "'Tis clean and clear."

Perception was amazing. Rod would have said it was empty and sterile.

"Clean indeed, and 'tis monks' labor keeps it so. 'Tis we ourselves who spread the whitewash, and we who crafted

the tables and benches—as well as the wooden cups." Father Boquilva poured from a pitcher and set a mug in

front of Gregory. "There will be ale in the fall, and wine in the spring—yet for now, 'tis water. And even with ale

and wine, 'tis clear water for the greater part. Our food is bread, greens, and fruits, with meat on feast days."

"•'Tis a hard life," Gregory said, eyes wide.

"Aye, and thou wilt therefore understand the strong call it doth need, to do God's work." Father Boquilva took a

long, thirsty drink, then looked up at Rod. "Now, Lord Warlock! In what matter may I aid thee?"

"You already have." Rod smiled, amused. "My boy has a notion that he may want to be a monk when he grows

up."

The only sign of surprise was Father Boquilva's total stillness—possibly, Rod thought, because the priest had al
Page 85

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

ready guessed. Then he poured himself another water. "Well, 'tis not unheard of for a vocation to make itself felt

so early in life. Though 'tis more common for a lad to feel the tug of the holy life, then find it was only one of

many such pulls we all know, ere the strong, steady pull of the true vocation doth come. 'Tis a hard life, lad, as

thou dost see me—and many who begin it as postulants return to their families ere they take the novice's vows.

Of those who stay, many retire ere they become deacons; and even some few of the deacons return to the worldly

life and never take final vows."

"A monk may go back to the daily life, then, and take a wife?"

"Aye, and rear children; many of those whom we call Brother may leave the order at any time. A man may be a

husband and father and still be a deacon, lad; his service to the Church is second to that to his family. Yet many a

brother will remain with the order his whole life, and never take final vows; 'tis simply that he doth not feel

himself strong enough for the responsibility of the Mass, nor worthy to hold the Eucharist. Naetheless, some of

those number wrought miracles by their holiness and, we have good cause to think, bask now in Heaven."

Gregory said slowly, "How doth it come, then, for a lad such as myself to know his vocation?"

"Thou canst not till thou art older; the age is eighteen, for our order. Till then, thou must needs bide and live as

holy a life as thou mayest, and do all that thou canst for thy fellows." Gregory nodded. "Prayer, fasting, and good works."

"Thou must not fast till thou art fourteen, and then but once a month, and only from dawn till dark." Father

Boquilva wore no smile now. "This is thy first test: obedience. If thou canst not live by this command, thou hast

Page 86

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

not the makings of a monk within thee."

"I shall obey," Gregory said quickly, and Rod breathed a sigh of relief, combined with gratitude to Father Boquilva. Fasting, taken to the extremes which zeal made possible, could have ruined the boy's health. He was amazed to realize Gregory was capable of such dedication. His gentle, thoughtful child—where had this

fanaticism come from? With an uneasy prickle of conscience, he remembered certain excesses of fervor from his

own adolescence—but the boy was only seven!

"But how when I am eighteen, Father?"

Boquilva nodded. "Then thou mayest go to the House of St. Vidicon in . . ."A shadow crossed his face.

"Or

mayhap thou shall come here." He shrugged oif the mood. "No matter." But it did, to Rod. He took note that Boquilva regretted leaving the monastery. It spoke well of the man, that he

had summoned the strength to do what he thought right, even though he hadn't wanted to; but it was also a source

of weakness for the King's cause. What would happen if the Runnymede monks became pivotal in the current

crisis, and became so filled with remorse that they decided to go back to their brothers and Abbot?

Rod decided to make sure they wouldn't become pivotal.

"And what shall I do there?"

"Thou shall try thy vocation. We call such a young man, who cometh to discover whether or not he should be a

monk, a 'postulant.' Thou wilt live the life of a monk in all ways save the performance of holy offices, and if,

after a year spent thus, thou dost still wish to be a monk, thou wilt be tested, to say if thou art the stuff of which

monks are made, or hast the strength to be a priest in a parish." Rod perked up his ears; this was new. He'd never heard of a monastery testing for those qualities
Page 87

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

before.

Gregory frowned. " 'Tis toward the monastery that I feel the

pull."

Father Boquilva nodded. "Many do, but have not the ... talent for it, the qualities, the ... different sort of strength

required. In this must thou trust in the judgment of thy seniors, and abide by their decision. Naetheless, some find

themselves unable to, and return to the world."

Rod frowned, wondering what sort of qualities differed monk material from parish priest. The ability to do

research? Even in a medieval society, was it publish or parish?

"Yet where shall I go if thou dost think me destined to be a parish priest?"

"There are two parts to the House of St. Vidicon," Father Bolquilva explained, "the cloister, for those who will

become monks, and the seminary, for those whose call is toward the parish. The two pray together, and sing

together in choir, yet have little other contact."

Gregory asked, "And if, even told I must go to a parish, I still wish to serve God as a priest—what then?"

"Thou shalt proceed as thou hadst, in fasting, prayer, study, and labor—though there is less of that last for the

seminarians; there will be labor enough in their parish lives, and they must learn in only a few years that which

will fill a monk's lifetime; a seminarian must heed his books, that he may not preach errors when he hath his own

parish."

"Nay, certes." Gregory frowned, nodding. "I had not thought that—but any priest must needs be a scholar of

sorts, must he not?" And when Father Boquilva agreed, he said, "Mayhap I have such a calling. Yet how if I have

not? How if I am to be a monk?"

Page 88

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Then mayest thou take the vow of a sexton, and become a monk in earnest."

"Thereupon the cloister will be mine whole life?" Gregory asked, wide-eyed, and his voice sank to a whisper. "I

will never go out therefrom, never gaze upon a lass or a knight, never again see my family?" Rod felt a stab of apprehension, and nearly yanked the boy off his bench and bolted; but Father Boquilva said,

"Nay. Thou wilt go out anon and again; our monks have ever journeyed to visit with their folk from time to time,

commonly twice in a year—save, of course, those who have been brought to us as orphans. And, now and again,

our services are needed."

Rod missed Gregory's next question and the answer, because inspiration struck with a blinding flash. So the

monks were allowed to go home and visit from time to time, were they? Then the monastery wasn't completely

cut off from the rest of the world! There was a channel of communication available!

He came out of the daze as Father Boquilva was saying, "Well, more questions will come, be sure. When they

do, thou art welcome among us—yet I prithee, bring always thy father." He turned to smile at Rod. "I believe he

hath need of it!"

"Oh, yes! You never know what you can get from a visit to a monastery!" Rod rose, reaching out to shake Father

Boquilva's hand. "It's been great talking to you, Father! I tell you, you're sending me back out into the world with

renewed energy and vigor!"

"Why, thus would I hope the cloister may ever do, for the faithful," Father Boquilva returned, "yet I own I have

never seen it work so quickly. Art certain thou hast no need for a longer retreat?"
Page 89

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"No, I'd say I'm in the mood for a challenge. It's time to press forward—I might even say, charge!" He took

Gregory by the hand and turned away to the door. "Come on, son, we've got to hurry and get your big brother

moving."

"But he hath no call!"

"He's about to get one, and he darned well better answer!"

"Oh, Milord Abbot!" The Baroness hurried over as the Abbot stepped into the room, lowering his cowl to reveal

hair plastered against his head. "I had not meant for thee to come on so foul a night!" The Abbot looked up in surprise, displeased. "Thy message, milady, spoke of urgent need."

"And so it is, so it is! Yet tomorrow would have been soon enough. Oh, poor man! Come, come stand by the fire!

Mayrose, pour brandywine! Adam, move a chair to the hearth!"

"Nay, I am not so wetted as that." The Abbot pulled off his monk's robe, revealing another beneath it.

"When I

saw the rain, I took a larger robe for a cover." But the inner robe was damp, too, and as the clergyman stepped in

front of the flames, he steamed. Still, the look in his eye as Lady Mayrose handed him a goblet said he did not

regret the trip. Indeed, there was a haunted hunger there.

The Baroness saw, but had tact enough not to mention it directly. She gestured for Old Adam to bring her chair

nearer the fire. "I marvel that thou canst yet spare time for us, milord, when thou art so much taken up with

matters of great moment."

The Abbot frowned, his troubles coming to mind again. "In

truth, milady, thy house and thine affairs seem almost a refuge to me now."

"Why, come to sanctuary, then," Lady Mayrose said with a silvery laugh, and turned away in a swirl of skirts to

Page 90

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

stand by her mother. "Still, 'tis a somewhat troubled sanctuary, as who should know better than its confessor?"

"But thy troubles are so . . . wholesome, I might almost say." The Abbot smiled. "Nay, thy disagreements seem

ever to be borne with love toward one another. Would I and the King might so quarrel!"

"In truth, the Lord did bid thee love thine enemy," Lady Mayrose murmured. The Abbot nodded. "So indeed He did, Lady Mayrose, yet our enemy will not therefore cease being our enemy."

His brow creased. "In truth, Their Majesties are so arrogant that they can scarcely abide the least challenge to

their power."

"And art thou so great an affront, then?"

The Abbot sighed, looking up to Heaven. "Alas! How may I be otherwise? For I must oppose this steady

extension of their powers, that doth encroach even on the domain of the Church. . . . Oh! Rome is so blind] Not

to realize that a worldly prince must needs hamper the Church's work if he doth usurp her offices! So blind, not

to see what moves here—and so uncaring!"

The ladies were silent, surprised at his vehemence.

He realized, and smiled apologetically. "Pardon, ladies. My spirit grows agitated as I realize the hurt to the poor

folk, in both soul and body, that must come from the Crown daring to take upon itself the alms-giving of the

Church and the ordering of our clergy."

"Ah! How can a king or queen understand what is needful in that?" Lady Mayrose said, scandalized.

"Nay, certes

the Church must remain supreme in such venues!"

The Abbot looked up at her in appreciation. "I thank thee, Lady Mayrose, yet I doubt that even one so ardent as

thou wouldst condone the step that I may needs take on this road."
Page 91

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"What step is that?" The Baroness was suddenly apprehensive.

"That of declaring myself to be Archbishop." The Abbot looked away, his mouth twisting as he said it. The Baroness gasped, but Lady Mayrose's eyes glowed. She nodded, faster and faster. "Certes . . . aye, certes!

Nay,

what else couldst thou do, my lord? If the Church of Gramarye hath separated from Rome, it must needs have a