Brother's Blood (25 page)

Martin roused himself. ‘What? Oh, yes, of course. I'll bring him straight in, and I'll give you a nod or a shake of my head to let you know if he was the one I saw here last time.'

Edwin wasn't waiting long before the doorway darkened and a monk stepped in. Because he had the sunlight behind him Edwin couldn't immediately see his face, but he could see that behind him Martin, a head taller, was nodding vigorously. So this was the man that Martin thought had been acting suspiciously with Brother Sinnulph.

The monk came further into the hall and was illuminated by light from one of the windows. Edwin saw his face, and suddenly several things fell into place. He stood to greet him.

‘Brother Eugenius. I didn't realise your duties involved coming out here as well as assisting Brother Helias in the cellarer's office.'

The monk looked slightly bewildered. And maybe a little nervous?

Edwin bade him sit. ‘Please, Brother, just a few questions before we leave you to get on with your duties.'

Brother Eugenius perched uncomfortably on the very edge of the bench. ‘Yes?'

‘Why are you and Brother Sinnulph stealing from the abbey?'

‘What?' The monk tried to jump out of his seat but Martin's hand on his shoulder pushed him back down.

‘I believe you heard me, Brother.'

The monk's face went red and sweat broke out on his forehead. ‘I – er, I …' He twisted the sleeves of his habit in his hand but did not deny the accusation.

‘He did it because I asked him to.' The voice was Sinnulph's as he entered the hall from outside. He sighed and sat down on the bench next to Brother Eugenius. ‘We may as well tell him all, Brother, for he clearly knows some of it anyway.' He looked directly at Edwin. ‘And if he truly is Godric Weaver's son, he'll listen to us.'

Brother Eugenius was almost in tears. ‘It was out of charity … I didn't mean … oh, what will Father Abbot say?'

Edwin turned to Sinnulph. ‘Perhaps you'd better tell me.'

The lay brother spread his arms. ‘You heard me say I once had brothers. Not any more – they all died. And my sister's husband too, leaving her with four children and nobody to look after them. And I've taken my vows so I couldn't go back. What was she to do?'

‘That's no exc—' Edwin waved Martin into silence.

‘Your sister and her children were hungry.'

‘Yes. The oldest boy is about twelve, so he couldn't do a man's full day at work. The holding got taken off them and they had to labour where they could to earn food.'

Edwin nodded. ‘You felt responsible.'

‘I did. And on top of that we had thieves, outlaws, around here earlier this year and they stole some of the stores.'

Edwin winced as he remembered his own dealings with the band of men who had terrorised the area for some weeks. ‘I know. They've all been caught now, and hanged.'

‘So I heard. But that didn't get the people back what they stole, and Lord Richard wasn't too sympathetic – said everyone still had to work in his fields and pay his rents regardless.'

Perhaps Sir Geoffrey ought to hear of this, for Lord Richard held his land from the earl, didn't he? Edwin had better check. It made no sense, even for a noble, to allow the villeins and workers to starve, for who would till his fields the following year? The family near Conisbrough who had suffered the most from the outlaws had been sent home with food and supplies when they came to break the news. He felt himself sympathising with Sinnulph, but he had to harden his heart to find out the truth.

‘So what did you do?'

Sinnulph looked at Brother Eugenius and patted him on the shoulder. ‘My sister's boy came here one day to tell me all. To start with I just gave him my food, off my plate, for I reckoned that was fairly mine to give. But how far was that going to go among five of them? So I took more bread, more vegetables, some grain, and handed them over.' His voice became weighted with guilt. ‘I mean, here I was surrounded by good food, and how I could eat my two meals a day while she starved? It's not like she could take orders and join the abbey to do the same – or the children – so I did what I could.'

Brother Eugenius now broke in. ‘I started to notice very small discrepancies in the accounts, of what we should have compared with what we actually had. I asked Brother Sinnulph about it and he confessed all. I should have put a stop to it – I should have —'

‘You should have what, Brother? Allowed my sister to starve? And her children too?' Sinnulph turned to Edwin and his voice became urgent. ‘The fault is mine, and mine alone. Brother Eugenius is young, he didn't know what to do and I persuaded him to keep quiet about it.'

‘You threatened him?'

Sinnulph opened his mouth to deny it but then changed his mind. ‘Yes. Yes, I threatened him. So no blame can attach to him.'

‘He did not threaten me.' Brother Eugenius's voice was resigned. ‘He is right that he persuaded me that it was the only way to save them, but he did not threaten me, and I will not have him confess to a sin he has not committed. I should have gone straight to Father Abbot, but I did not, and that I must confess.'

‘So, when I saw you coming out of the cellarer's office last night, with a bag and a piece of parchment in your hand …?'

Brother Eugenius looked shocked. ‘You saw me? And I thought I had been so … well, yes.
Mea culpa
. Obviously the stores at the abbey are in much greater quantity, so I thought I could make up what was missing here from there, and then rewrite my accounts before Brother Helias saw them.' He hung his head.

Edwin waited for the rest, but when it was not forthcoming he prodded further. ‘And the wool?'

Brother Eugenius and Sinnulph exchanged a puzzled glance before the lay brother spoke. ‘What wool?'

‘The wool ledgers. Have you not been falsifying them?'

They both looked so utterly horrified that Edwin couldn't believe they were acting.

Brother Eugenius managed to splutter out a few words. ‘Falsify the ledgers? Are you mad? Why, that would be …' He tailed off into silence at the enormity of the thought.

Edwin was confused now. ‘When Martin was here the other day and he mentioned Brother Alexander, he said you both looked worried.'

Sinnulph replied. ‘Yes, but we were worried that he'd find out that a few bits of bread had gone missing, and he'd make us stop and my sister would starve. We would never tamper with the wool accounts.' His eyes opened wide as he grasped the severity of the implication. ‘You … you thought we were falsifying the wool ledgers, to – what, to keep the money? And, dear Lord, you thought we might have killed Brother Alexander to stop him finding out?' He sagged back on the bench in shock.

Brother Eugenius had turned completely white. ‘Dear Lord.' He crossed himself. ‘I see now how committing one sin can lead to the suspicion of other sins. But we did not kill – I mean, the idea is impossible – how could we – dear Lord.'

This was not quite going the way Edwin had expected, but he pressed on. ‘So, just to be clear. Did you, either of you, tear out some pages from a wool ledger and throw them in the beck at the abbey?'

They both looked totally confused and were shaking their heads. ‘I did no such thing,' answered Sinnulph, ‘and I'm sure Brother Eugenius didn't either.'

The monk shook his head. ‘I also did not.'

There was silence for a moment. Edwin felt that everyone was looking at him. He needed to think fast. ‘Right. This is what we are going to do. The two of you must,
must
, confess everything to the lord abbot. I will give you a day to do this, and if you have not told him by noon tomorrow then I will tell him myself. And I'm sure you realise it will sound better coming from you.'

They nodded.

‘You must accept whatever punishment he metes out.'

They nodded again.

‘You, Brother Eugenius, will also make a confession to Brother Helias. I have no doubt that he will eventually find something wrong with the accounts, and if you tell him before that happens then you will save him both from worry and from the suspicion that something much worse has happened.'

‘Yes. I will do this. And I deserve whatever punishment comes my way.'

Sinnulph started to speak but Edwin held up his hand. ‘And you will confess all of your part in this, and the influence you brought to bear on Brother Eugenius, but you will not exaggerate or confess to anything you have not done. The Lord will know, even if the abbot doesn't. And,' he drew a deep breath, ‘you will ask the abbot to release you from your vows so that you may go back to your family.'

‘He won't do that, surely?' Sinnulph asked in astonishment.

‘Try him. You may be surprised. If you explain that you wish to go back to the outside world so that you can provide for your sister and her children, he might see that as a different way of serving God. And he may even speak with Lord Richard about your family's holding so that you have something to live off.'

Both of them were staring at him with desperate eyes, holding back tears and hanging on his every word. Another responsibility to add to the unbearable weight on his shoulders.

Edwin sighed. ‘But none of this gets me any nearer to finding out what happened to Brother Alexander. If you can, please say a prayer for me.' He stood and beckoned Martin to follow him out, aware that he'd solved one problem only to create another.

Once Edwin felt the sunlight on his face he shook himself as if to get rid of the shadows. ‘You've been very quiet.'

Martin shrugged. ‘You seemed to be managing quite well without me.'

Edwin didn't push it. ‘Anyway, you'll be pleased to know we have another ride ahead of us.'

‘Where, back to the abbey?'

‘And beyond. We may not have solved the mystery of the wool ledger or of Brother Alexander's death, but something Brother Sinnulph said has given me an idea on another subject. There's someone we need to talk to.'

Martin wondered whether, if he prayed hard enough, a hole in the ground would appear so he could bury himself in it. The man he'd told to stay away from his horse, the man he'd shouted at, called a peasant, treated as simple, was a knight. And not just a knight but a crusader, a great warrior who had travelled to the East with the famous King Richard; he had fought battles against the Saracens and won glorious renown. What had he been thinking as Martin spoke, treating him like dirt? Oh dear Lord.

He wasn't really paying attention to where they were going, so when he eventually looked up he found that they had gone past the abbey and its gatehouse and were now heading for the woods.

‘Where are we going?'

‘To see Anabilia, the hermit.'

‘Why?'

Edwin grinned, unusual for him these days. ‘You'll see.'

‘All right. But stop here and we'll dismount. If we're going to go through all that undergrowth then we'll be better off on foot and leading the horses.'

Martin watched as Edwin got down – he couldn't really call it a dismount, not when he just pretty much fell off – and made sure the stirrups were shortened on both saddles. ‘Can you manage leading your own horse? If not then I'll take both, but it might be easier going single file.'

‘I can manage. I'll go slowly.'

They left the road and entered the forest. Martin stood uncertainly. ‘Can you remember the way?'

Edwin also looked doubtful. ‘Let me think. There was a little path which led off somewhere – is this it?' He pushed aside some branches.

‘It could be. Yes, look – there's a footprint in that patch of soft ground there.' Martin placed his foot in the mark and it fitted perfectly. ‘It's mine.'

They made their way through the undergrowth, stopping every so often to wonder whether this broken branch or that odd-shaped tree was a reminder that they had previously come this way. And then, quite suddenly, they found themselves in the clearing where the woman lived. The hovel was still there, the garden was still there, even the goat was still there, but the hermit was nowhere to be seen.

Martin took both sets of reins and tied them safely to a sturdy tree branch. He pointed to the roof of the dwelling. ‘Smoke. She can't have gone far.'

‘I'll try calling her. You stay there and try not to look too threatening.'

Martin stood and watched as Edwin put his head through the doorway and then went all round the hovel, calling Anabilia's name. ‘We don't want to hurt you or trouble you – I just need to ask you something. Something important.'

There was silence.

Edwin tried again. ‘I know that you didn't kill Brother Alexander. You're safe, but I really do need to talk to you.'

Martin was surprised. Did they know that? He didn't, but who knew what was going on in Edwin's mind?

‘About what?' Martin's head shot round as he heard the old woman's voice, but he couldn't for the life of him work out which direction it was coming from.