Read Online A Blood Red Horse by K. M. Grant - Free Book Online Page B

the monks leaned in church) had snapped off, leaving Andrew sprawling on the floor. Ever since then Brother Andrew had been looking to do Ranulf a disservice.
    Since he had been given the job, as far as the abbot knew, Andrew had turned into a good almoner. There were few complaints. What the abbot did not know, however, was that Andrew was running a small racket. The poor who sought alms certainly received them. But they were also promised “untold eternal rewards” if they gave some of the alms back to Andrew in order, as he told them, to secure “a better chance of seeing Christ face-to-face.” The returned food, wine, and medicines he kept in a locked box under a sack and either used them himself or, increasingly, sold them to passing traders.
    â€œI’m stocktaking,” he would shout if anybody called for him while he was eating soft bread or putting on the tip of his tongue a tiny drop of expensive and unusual oil that a passing earl had brought back from the Holy Land. “I suppose I am stocktaking in a sort of way,” he said gleefully to himself as he smoothed his red face with some of the balm he had got into the habit of stealing from the infirmary. “And anyway, at least I always say the office, unlike some others.”
    It was when Brother Luke, the infirmarian, asked Andrew if he knew who might be stealing his jars of ointment that Andrew saw his chance. It was common knowledge that Ranulf was potty about some sick horse. “Very likely,” Andrew said to Luke, shaking his head with mock sorrow, “very likely Ranulf is stealing from the infirmary to take to the stables.” Luke went at once to the prior, who went straight to the abbot.
    â€œBrother Ranulf and that horse are a menace,” Peter said. “I know the de Granvilles are our benefactors, but ever since that broken-down nag arrived, Brother Ranulf’s behavior has been even more contrary than usual. Now it seems Ranulf is taking medicine from the infirmary in an effort to turn the horse back into a great stallion on which, I suppose, he reckons to ride away and kill the infidel. In my view, we should get rid of the animal. It is useless, anyway, for anything requiring a quicker pace than a walk. Have you seen it carrying the laundry? It has difficulty even doing that. And if the horse goes, maybe Ranulf will get over his ridiculous obsession with crusading.”
    â€œYou mean we should destroy the horse? Kill it?” asked the abbot, frowning.
    â€œWell, yes,” said Peter, shifting a little uncomfortably.“I mean it is distracting Ranulf, and it’s not going to get any better,” he finished rather defensively.
    The abbot sighed.
    â€œThe de Granvilles would be very upset. Before we do anything, I had better talk to Ranulf and see the horse for myself.” The prior could hardly disagree.
    Hugh made his way to the stables but did not find Hosanna in good spirits. The horse was lying as if his legs were too weary to carry him. His great dark eyes were misty, and he had not touched the sweet hay that lay well within reach.
    The abbot stooped to stroke his neck. Hosanna moved his head slightly. The abbot knelt down and looked at him properly. Although the horse was clearly tired and dispirited, it still felt wrong to take his life just because a monk was using him as an excuse to behave dishonestly. Hugh looked at Hosanna for several minutes. “We’ll wait a week,” he said at last to nobody in particular. “We’ll wait a week.” Then he found Ranulf and asked about the missing medicines. Ranulf denied all knowledge, but after the monk’s recent open disobedience, Hugh could not be sure that he was not lying. He did not tell Ranulf that Hosanna’s days, in all probability, were numbered.
    Over the next week the atmosphere in the abbey was tense. Word got around about the irregularities in the infirmary and the almonery. Monks were found