Read Online Brother Cadfael 08: The Devil's Novice by Ellis Peters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ellis Peters
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seen this? In his bed, you say? Some alien thing hidden away? That is not according to the Rule.'
For what should there be in a dortoir cell but cot and stool, a small desk for reading, and the books for study? These, and the privacy and quiet which can exist only by virtue of mutual consideration, since mere token partitions of wainscot separate cell from cell.
'A novice entering here must give up all wordly possessions,' said Jerome, squaring his meagre shoulders and scenting a genuine infringement of the approved order of things. Grist to his mill! Nothing he loved better than an occasion for admonition. 'I shall speak to Brother Meriet about this.'
Half a dozen voices, encouraged, urged him to more immediate action. 'Brother, go now, while he's away, and see if I have not told you truth! If you take away his charm the demon will have no more power over him.'
'And we shall have quiet again ... '
'Come with me!' said Brother Jerome heroically, making up his mind. And before Cadfael could stir, Jerome was off, out of the lavatorium and surging towards the dortoir stairs, with a flurry of novices hard on his heels.
Cadfael went after them hunched with resigned disgust, but not foreseeing any great urgency. The boy was safely out of this, hobnobbing with Hugh in the stables, and of course they would find nothing in his cell to give them any further hold on him, malice being a great stimulator of the imagination. The flat disappointment might bring them down to earth. So he hoped! But for all that, he made haste on the stairs.
But someone else was in an even greater hurry. Light feet beat a sharp drum-roll on the wooden treads at Cadfael's back, and an impetuous body overtook him in the doorway of the long dortoir, and swept him several yards down the tiled corridor between the cells. Meriet thrust past with long, indignant strides, his habit flying.
'I heard you! I heard you! Let my things alone!'
Where was the low, submissive voice now, the modestly lowered eyes and folded hands? This was a furious young lordling peremptorily ordering hands off his possessions, and homing on the offenders with fists clenched and eyes flashing.
Cadfael, thrust off-balance for a moment, made a grab at a flying sleeve, but only to be dragged along in Meriet's wake.
The covey of awed, inquisitive novices gathered round the opening of Meriet's cell, heads thrust cautiously within and rusty black rumps protruding without, whirled in alarm at hearing this angry apparition bearing down on them, and broke away with agitated clucking like so many flurried hens. In the very threshold of his small domain Meriet came nose to nose with Brother Jerome emerging.
On the face of it, it was a very uneven confrontation: a mere postulant of a month or so, and one who had already given trouble and been cautioned, facing a man in authority, the prior's right hand, a cleric and confessor, one of the two appointed for the novices. The check did give Meriet pause for one moment, and Cadfael leaned to his ear to whisper breathlessly: 'Hold back, you fool! He'll have your hide!' He might have saved the breath of which he was short, for Meriet did not even hear him. The moment when he might have come to his senses was already past, for his eye had fallen on the small, bright thing Jerome dangled before him from outraged fingers, as though it were unclean. The boy's face blanched, not with the pallor of fear, but the blinding whiteness of pure anger, every line of bone in a strongly-boned countenance chiselled in ice.
'That is mine,' he said with soft and deadly authority, and held out his hand. 'Give it to me!'
Brother Jerome rose on tiptoe and swelled like a turkey-cock at being addressed in such tones. His thin nose quivered with affronted rage. 'And you openly avow it? Do you not know, impudent wretch, that in asking for admittance here you have forsworn "mine," and may not possess property of any kind? To bring in any personal things here without the
For what should there be in a dortoir cell but cot and stool, a small desk for reading, and the books for study? These, and the privacy and quiet which can exist only by virtue of mutual consideration, since mere token partitions of wainscot separate cell from cell.
'A novice entering here must give up all wordly possessions,' said Jerome, squaring his meagre shoulders and scenting a genuine infringement of the approved order of things. Grist to his mill! Nothing he loved better than an occasion for admonition. 'I shall speak to Brother Meriet about this.'
Half a dozen voices, encouraged, urged him to more immediate action. 'Brother, go now, while he's away, and see if I have not told you truth! If you take away his charm the demon will have no more power over him.'
'And we shall have quiet again ... '
'Come with me!' said Brother Jerome heroically, making up his mind. And before Cadfael could stir, Jerome was off, out of the lavatorium and surging towards the dortoir stairs, with a flurry of novices hard on his heels.
Cadfael went after them hunched with resigned disgust, but not foreseeing any great urgency. The boy was safely out of this, hobnobbing with Hugh in the stables, and of course they would find nothing in his cell to give them any further hold on him, malice being a great stimulator of the imagination. The flat disappointment might bring them down to earth. So he hoped! But for all that, he made haste on the stairs.
But someone else was in an even greater hurry. Light feet beat a sharp drum-roll on the wooden treads at Cadfael's back, and an impetuous body overtook him in the doorway of the long dortoir, and swept him several yards down the tiled corridor between the cells. Meriet thrust past with long, indignant strides, his habit flying.
'I heard you! I heard you! Let my things alone!'
Where was the low, submissive voice now, the modestly lowered eyes and folded hands? This was a furious young lordling peremptorily ordering hands off his possessions, and homing on the offenders with fists clenched and eyes flashing.
Cadfael, thrust off-balance for a moment, made a grab at a flying sleeve, but only to be dragged along in Meriet's wake.
The covey of awed, inquisitive novices gathered round the opening of Meriet's cell, heads thrust cautiously within and rusty black rumps protruding without, whirled in alarm at hearing this angry apparition bearing down on them, and broke away with agitated clucking like so many flurried hens. In the very threshold of his small domain Meriet came nose to nose with Brother Jerome emerging.
On the face of it, it was a very uneven confrontation: a mere postulant of a month or so, and one who had already given trouble and been cautioned, facing a man in authority, the prior's right hand, a cleric and confessor, one of the two appointed for the novices. The check did give Meriet pause for one moment, and Cadfael leaned to his ear to whisper breathlessly: 'Hold back, you fool! He'll have your hide!' He might have saved the breath of which he was short, for Meriet did not even hear him. The moment when he might have come to his senses was already past, for his eye had fallen on the small, bright thing Jerome dangled before him from outraged fingers, as though it were unclean. The boy's face blanched, not with the pallor of fear, but the blinding whiteness of pure anger, every line of bone in a strongly-boned countenance chiselled in ice.
'That is mine,' he said with soft and deadly authority, and held out his hand. 'Give it to me!'
Brother Jerome rose on tiptoe and swelled like a turkey-cock at being addressed in such tones. His thin nose quivered with affronted rage. 'And you openly avow it? Do you not know, impudent wretch, that in asking for admittance here you have forsworn "mine," and may not possess property of any kind? To bring in any personal things here without the
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