The Abbot's Agreement (14 page)

Brother Gerleys descended the ladder and whispered, “There has been little time to prepare the space for you, but above our heads is a place where you may be hid ’till the archdeacon is away.”

“You are placing yourself at risk,” I replied.

“At Abbot Thurstan’s request.”

“When the archdeacon finds the infirmarer’s cell empty will he not search for me in such places?”

“The ladder will be hid before morn, and the opening is concealed when the boards are replaced, which you must do when you ascend the ladder. The upper loft is quite dark, but you will find a pallet where you may sleep. A dormer with a skin window allows light in the day.”

“When I am discovered missing come dawn, and the archdeacon and Prior Philip do not find me at the abbey, they will send men to Bampton, assuming I have fled to the safety of Bampton Castle. They will question my wife sharply, and she
will worry. Arthur, you must travel to Bampton at first light and tell Kate what has happened. She and Bessie and Agnes must flee to the castle. When I am not discovered at Galen House the archdeacon might seize Kate and demand my appearance in return for her release. He is not likely to try to pluck her from the castle and so raise Lord Gilbert’s ire, I think.”

This conversation was conducted in low whispers, yet was perhaps loud enough to disturb either Osbert or Henry, for we heard one of the novices turn upon his cot and draw his blanket up about him.

We three stood frozen and silent for some time, then Arthur whispered in my ear, “Shall I return to the abbey, or remain with mistress Kate?”

“Stay in Bampton until the archdeacon’s men have come and gone. ’Tis sure they will seek me there. They may not be far behind you when you travel tomorrow. When they leave Bampton return to the abbey. You must be my eyes and ears while I am shut up here, if we are to find a felon.

“Return now to the guest house. Leave the abbey at first light, before the archdeacon discovers me missing, else he may detain you, thinking you can lead him to me.”

Arthur padded silently across the flags and disappeared through the door of the novices’ chamber.

“Up you go,” Brother Gerleys whispered, and grasped the ladder to steady it for my ascent. I obeyed, crawled through the black hole into my lair, and felt about in the dark for the boards which had been fastened together, forming a trapdoor, to conceal the opening. When I found them I was careful to replace the panel silently, then in utter darkness found the pallet Brother Gerleys had provided and sought rest. ’Twas a great improvement over the stinking straw of the infirmarer’s cell. But I was a prisoner yet.

T
he skin of the dormer window glowed faintly when I awoke, and provided enough light that I could inspect my surroundings. The attic was mostly bare. I saw an unlit cresset, and a chamber pot which Brother Gerleys had thoughtfully provided and then forgotten to mention. And there was the pallet.

I lay awake, watching the small enclosure grow brighter, and soon heard voices below me. The novices had awakened. Although monks do not break their fast, novices in Benedictine houses are permitted a loaf, and as I lay listening, trying to hear the youthful conversation, I heard their chamber door open.

I thought it likely that a lay brother assigned to the kitchen had brought loaves, but not so. The sound of latch and squeaking hinges was followed by excited voices, one of which I readily identified. ’Twas Prior Philip.

The prior was so overwrought that I could at first make nothing of his outburst. But I knew what it must portend.

“Gone!” the prior seethed. “Cell door closed, door barred. Only a devil could escape. A heretic in league with the devil.

“All know you were his friend,” Prior Philip continued, speaking, I assumed, to Brother Gerleys, who must have accompanied him to the novices’ chamber. “Has he come to you to flee the bishop’s justice?”

“Master Hugh? Here? Look about you. Where could he be? There is a small chest against yon wall, but surely too small to hide a man. Where else in the chamber might he be? You and the archdeacon’s men may search where you will.”

“You’ve not seen the fellow this night, then?”

“Nay. If he escaped the infirmarer’s cell you’ll not find him here.”

I heard Prior Philip snort in disgust. “If you see him, or learn of where he might be, tell me straightaway.”

The chamber door slammed shut, then but a few heartbeats later opened again. Another conversation, more muted, followed. The novices’ loaves had arrived. Silence followed while the novices ate, then I heard Brother Gerleys assign tasks for the day. Henry was to attend the monks in the scriptorium, making ink, lining parchments, and perhaps trying his hand at copying some insignificant manuscript. Osbert was to seek the kitchener, a pleasant duty on such a chill day, to stir a pot over a fire or do some other menial chore to help prepare the monks’ dinner.

Shortly after the novices set off for their work I heard the ladder scrape against the stone wall below my feet. Where, I wondered, had the novice-master hidden the thing, that it was not visible to Prior Philip, yet so ready to hand when needed?

I watched the trap door and saw it rise. I assisted Brother Gerleys in lifting it and shoved it aside. His face appeared in the opening.

“Come down,” he said. “I’ve saved back a part of a loaf for you.”

The ladder did not reach to the ceiling. It was barely as long as I am tall, so descending from the attic meant hanging from the planks upon one’s elbows and feeling about with a toe for the top rung of the ladder.

When my feet were safely upon the flags I watched as Brother Gerleys took the ladder and fitted it under the table, where it slid into hidden supports. The novice-master saw my surprise and explained.

“Don’t know who built this. Brother Matthias, who was novice-master before me, said his predecessor told him the ladder was there before he came to the office. Probably made during some time of unrest, when ’twas thought good to have a hiding place. If a tall man reaches from the attic he can grasp the top rung of the ladder and pull it up after him.”

There was a matter troubling me, and I spoke of it to Brother Gerleys. “You have imperiled your soul for me,” I said.

Brother Gerleys looked at me quizzically. “How so?” he said.

“You lied to Prior Philip, your superior, when he asked of me.”

“Not so,” he chuckled. “When Brother Prior asked if you had come to me I said only that he should look about and see if there was anyplace in the chamber where you might be hid. I did not say that you were not here.”

“You intended to deceive him.”

“Aye, and did so.”

“He asked if you had seen me last night,” I said.

“So he did. Well… ’twas dark last night and a man could see little. I saw the shape of a man. Could have been you, I suppose. And when I told him that he’d not find you here, that was no lie either, for he will not, if we are careful.

“And even if I did lie to save you from the archdeacon, there is precedent for it in Holy Bible.”

My expression upon hearing this must have been of skepticism, because Brother Gerleys explained himself.

“Have you not read in Exodus of the Hebrew midwives? Surely you know the tale, you being a scholar.”

I did, but before I could answer, the novice-master reminded me of it.

“Pharaoh told the midwives to kill the male babes born to Hebrew slave women. Only the lasses were to live. The midwives disobeyed, and when the king learned of their disobedience he demanded of them why they had violated his command.

“They replied that the Hebrew women gave birth so rapidly that their services were not needed. ’Twas a lie, of course, but told to deflect evil and injustice. The Lord God did not punish the midwives for telling this fable, but rather rewarded them, so Holy Writ does say.

“Prior Philip and the archdeacon intend an injustice, and I have chosen to obstruct their designs. I know what you said to Abbot Thurstan.”

“You do not think me a heretic for such thoughts?”

“Don’t know. May be, may not be. I am uncertain of the matter. Surely if what you said to Abbot Thurstan is true, there
will be much hardship for this house and others and the chapels where priests pray for men’s souls. Who will give us lands and shillings to pray for their souls if there is no purgatory from which they seek release? But should a man die for thinking such a thing? I cannot believe it should be so.”

“I must be more careful in the future,” I said, “about quoting objectionable scriptures.”

“Most men can find something offensive in Holy Writ,” Brother Gerleys said, “when the words conflict with their opinions. Will you cease now the search for John Whytyng’s murderer?”

“I told Arthur to return as soon as he is sure that Kate and Bessie are secure in Bampton Castle, and the archdeacon’s men have gone. I need to find a way to tell Abbot Thurstan that I am safe and will continue to seek the felon. No one else must know. Other monks must believe that I have fled and that Arthur has inherited the duty to find a killer.”

“Prior Philip will object. He did not want you, a bailiff, to prowl about the abbey. He will surely oppose a groom doing so.”

“We must pray that Abbot Thurstan lives long enough that the felon can be discovered.”

Brother Gerleys withdrew the ladder from its hiding place and told me to climb to the attic again while he sought Abbot Thurstan to tell him of my escape from the archdeacon. When he returned he had much news.

The novice-master called out to me to move the trap door aside so that we might speak softly and yet hear each other. I did so, and looked down from my perch upon his tonsured head.

“M’lord Abbot is near death, I think. His breathing is shallow and sounds like a joiner passing a rasp across a plank. I told him you were safe hid, but he would not have me tell him where you are. Said he feared he might divulge the place in a fit of delirium.

“He is determined to stay alive until you have found John’s killer. He knows that Prior Philip will dismiss Arthur if he gains control of abbey affairs. The archdeacon departed for Lincoln soon after dawn, informing Abbot Thurstan that he would
advise Bishop Bokyngham that the abbey is badly governed. M’lord Abbot will care little for that. The bishop cannot remove an abbot whom the Lord Christ has already called to His bosom.

“Arthur also departed at dawn, and ’tis well he did so. Prior Philip has sent four lay brothers to Bampton, as you suspected he would, to seek you. Arthur is no more than an hour ahead of them.

“The almoner, Brother Jocelyn, is a friend. When he collects unconsumed food in the refectory after dinner he will leave a portion in a corner of the cloister before he sends the leavings to the porter to give to the poor. I will gather what he leaves and bring it to you.”

I did not wish to be the cause of a poor man going hungry, but if I was not to starve saw no better way for the provision of a meal. I thanked Brother Gerleys for his work, and asked a question.

“Does Prior Philip own a fur-lined coat?”

Brother Gerleys rubbed his neck, which was likely growing sore from peering up at me. “Aye. M’lord Abbot does, and Prior Philip’s not a man to cherish the cold so as to discipline his body and mind. Why do you ask?”

“I’ll tell you anon, if it proves important.”

“You traveled to Wantage. John Whytyng’s father lives near there, as does Prior Philip’s brother. Now you ask of the prior’s coat. Do you suspect Brother Prior in this death?”

Brother Gerleys is no fool. “I suspect all men,” I replied.

“Even me?”

“Not much. But ’tis best to assume all men capable of murder, and then dismiss those who could not, or would not, do such a felony.”

“How will you continue your search while hidden away in the attic?”

“I must think on this. Perhaps, by the time Arthur returns, I will have devised some way to proceed.”

Brother Gerleys promised to return with my dinner when he could. I slid the trap door into place and reclined upon the
pallet to consider my plight, and how I would overcome it to discover John Whytyng’s killer. When Brother Gerleys appeared with my meal I had no plan, but as the skin of the dormer window darkened, a procedure took form in my mind. But it could not be accomplished from the attic above the novices’ chamber.

Osbert and Henry returned while the dormer skin yet glowed with fading light. I was careful to move about cautiously so as not to elicit a creak from the planks of my refuge. I would have liked to light the cresset, but Brother Gerleys, while thoughtful enough to provide the lamp, had not supplied flint and steel with which to strike a flame. This was just as well. The sound of flint against steel might be heard by lads with keen ears, and when the novices’ chamber grew dark any crack between the attic planks might allow a gleam of light where none should be, which would give away my presence.

If the novices knew I was hidden above them, would they give me up to Prior Philip? Who could know? They had surely learned of my heresy and escape. But if they discovered my presence and held their tongues they would be complicit, with Brother Gerleys, in the ruse, and would suffer with him the consequences of harboring a heretic if I was discovered. I did not want to think on what those consequences must be.

Did I snore? What man knows if he does or not, unless his wife tells him? Kate has never complained of this, but perhaps she is being kind. A man might toss upon his pallet, cough and wheeze and snore, and know nothing of it, being asleep.

Lads like Osbert and Henry sleep soundly, too youthful to lay awake troubled by conscience or calamity. But certainly if Arthur was snoring above them his thunderous snorts would jolt them awake. Did I do the same in my sleep? Could I remain in the attic and risk discovery and Brother Gerleys’ safety?

While I considered these things I heard muted conversation below me. A lay brother had brought bowls of simple pottage for the novices and I had been so deep in thought that I had not heard him open the chamber door. There were indistinct
comments about the day’s labor and the quality of the ale, which, as I have written, was dreadful. I heard Brother Gerleys at the wood box, and a moment later heard him tending the chamber fire. Then all became silent as novice-master and pupils departed for compline. When they returned I must somehow attract Brother Gerleys’ attention without the novices knowing of it.

I thought briefly of opening the trap door, dropping to the floor, withdrawing the ladder from its slot under the table, replacing the trap door, and then departing for some other hiding place. For three reasons I gave up the idea.

If Brother Gerleys sought me in the attic and did not find me he would likely believe that I had been discovered and taken. He would be affrighted of his safety, for harboring a heretic.

I could do little to discover John Whytyng’s murderer alone, while a fugitive. I needed the aid of others, and more even than Arthur I now needed Brother Gerleys.

And if I left the attic, where would I go? I did not know the abbey well, the hidden places found in all such ancient structures. If I could not stay above the sleeping novices there might be other safe locations where I might be hidden. Brother Gerleys would know of these; I would not. I lay upon the pallet and awaited his return.

Monks do not linger in church or cloister after compline, especially on cold November evenings, but seek the dormitory and warm beds. So Brother Gerleys and the novices came straightaway from the church when the office was done. I heard Osbert and Henry bid each other “Good night,” and heard Brother Gerleys do the same as he departed for his own sleeping chamber.

An hour or more passed as I considered how I might attract the novice-master’s attention without alerting the lads to my presence. I did not need to. I heard the ladder slide from its place under the table and understood that Brother Gerleys’ face would soon be at the trap door. Even if in the darkness I could not see it.

A light tap upon the planks told me that Brother Gerleys had ascended the ladder. As quietly as I could I lifted the door
and moved it aside. The wood the novice-master had placed upon the hearth before compline had burned down to embers. Only coals glowed there, providing just enough light to see the monk’s pale face peering up at me.

“Come down,” he whispered. “Replace the boards as you do.”

My toes found the top rung of the ladder and I cautiously felt my way down the frail apparatus. When I stood upon the flags Brother Gerleys carefully and silently slid the ladder under the table, then stood silently before me and with an index finger beckoned me to follow. He led me to the chamber door, opened it carefully, motioned me to pass through, then followed. He drew the door closed slowly and when it was shut took my elbow and guided me toward the cloister.