came groans and cries.
‘Put that down. You are in a house of God!’
Martin didn’t move. ‘You put that down first.’
The monk looked at him in surprise, and then at the blood he carried. Enlightenment dawned. ‘Ah, I see.’ He put the bowl down on the table and folded his arms. He looked steadily at Martin until he sheathed his sword. Only then did the monk speak again.
‘I am Brother Durand, the infirmarer. And you are?’
The infirmarer? Ah … Martin made the best of it and bowed. ‘Martin Dubois, squire to my lord the Earl Warenne, and here at his orders.’
‘Here to invade my infirmary?’
Martin felt his cheeks grow red. ‘No. Well, what I mean is – I heard a scream. And someone here has already been murdered …’
Brother Durand looked at him steadily until he faltered into silence. Martin felt the eyes boring into him. ‘Murdered, yes, but not here and not by me. And even then that would give you no excuse, no authority, to come running in here under arms.’
Martin said nothing and looked at his feet.
‘Not that I need to explain myself to you, but the cries you heard were from Brother Richard, who has an abscess of the tooth. He needed bleeding, and I needed to examine his face and jaw. He screamed as I probed.’
‘I, er …’
‘So, if that is all, I have matters to attend to. While you are here at the abbey, you will not set foot in this infirmary again unless I give my permission, is that clear?’
‘Yes, Brother.’
‘Good. Now go.’
It was only after Martin had left the building that he started to think of all the things he should have said, the actions he should have taken. He, senior squire to one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, thrown out of the room like a child! Why, he had a good mind to —
‘There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?’ Edwin appeared beside him.
‘Where have you been, you mean. You’re supposed to be here to sort this out so we can leave again, not spend your time looking at books and talking to men too feeble to hold a sword or so weak they cry with the toothache.’
He shoved past Edwin and stalked off.
Edwin stood at something of a loss. The monks were emerging from the church – nones must be quite a short service – and heading in different directions, presumably to work on other duties. Should he follow any of them? But before he could decide, he felt a touch on his arm. It was a monk, a choir monk in a white robe whom he hadn’t seen before. This one had reddish hair around his tonsure and was about forty-ish, Edwin would guess.
‘You are Edwin? The man the lord abbot sent for?’
‘Yes, yes I am – Brother …?’
‘I’m Brother Helias, my son, the cellarer. I had word that you wished to see me?’
‘Ah, yes, thank you. I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about Brother Alexander and what he did here? Who did he deal with, did he ever go out of the abbey, that kind of thing?’
The monk nodded. ‘I can tell you all you require about Brother Alexander’s duties. I have time now while the brethren are undertaking their afternoon’s physical labour. But perhaps we would be more comfortable in my office than out here in the precinct?’ He gestured and Edwin followed him across the open space, past a warren of smaller buildings and into a room which reminded him very much of the steward’s office at Conisbrough. He sat on a stool indicated to him by Brother Helias and looked around at the storage kists and the neat rolls of parchment stacked up on shelves on the wall. He sniffed – a hint of herbs and spices. He felt at home.
‘So, being cellarer is a bit like being the steward?’
Brother Helias eased himself down on to a bench and nodded. ‘Yes. I’m in charge of all the provisions in the abbey – not just food and drink but also things like leather for our sandals and the lay brothers’ boots, and cloth to make our habits. It’s one of the more worldly
‘Put that down. You are in a house of God!’
Martin didn’t move. ‘You put that down first.’
The monk looked at him in surprise, and then at the blood he carried. Enlightenment dawned. ‘Ah, I see.’ He put the bowl down on the table and folded his arms. He looked steadily at Martin until he sheathed his sword. Only then did the monk speak again.
‘I am Brother Durand, the infirmarer. And you are?’
The infirmarer? Ah … Martin made the best of it and bowed. ‘Martin Dubois, squire to my lord the Earl Warenne, and here at his orders.’
‘Here to invade my infirmary?’
Martin felt his cheeks grow red. ‘No. Well, what I mean is – I heard a scream. And someone here has already been murdered …’
Brother Durand looked at him steadily until he faltered into silence. Martin felt the eyes boring into him. ‘Murdered, yes, but not here and not by me. And even then that would give you no excuse, no authority, to come running in here under arms.’
Martin said nothing and looked at his feet.
‘Not that I need to explain myself to you, but the cries you heard were from Brother Richard, who has an abscess of the tooth. He needed bleeding, and I needed to examine his face and jaw. He screamed as I probed.’
‘I, er …’
‘So, if that is all, I have matters to attend to. While you are here at the abbey, you will not set foot in this infirmary again unless I give my permission, is that clear?’
‘Yes, Brother.’
‘Good. Now go.’
It was only after Martin had left the building that he started to think of all the things he should have said, the actions he should have taken. He, senior squire to one of the most powerful men in the kingdom, thrown out of the room like a child! Why, he had a good mind to —
‘There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?’ Edwin appeared beside him.
‘Where have you been, you mean. You’re supposed to be here to sort this out so we can leave again, not spend your time looking at books and talking to men too feeble to hold a sword or so weak they cry with the toothache.’
He shoved past Edwin and stalked off.
Edwin stood at something of a loss. The monks were emerging from the church – nones must be quite a short service – and heading in different directions, presumably to work on other duties. Should he follow any of them? But before he could decide, he felt a touch on his arm. It was a monk, a choir monk in a white robe whom he hadn’t seen before. This one had reddish hair around his tonsure and was about forty-ish, Edwin would guess.
‘You are Edwin? The man the lord abbot sent for?’
‘Yes, yes I am – Brother …?’
‘I’m Brother Helias, my son, the cellarer. I had word that you wished to see me?’
‘Ah, yes, thank you. I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about Brother Alexander and what he did here? Who did he deal with, did he ever go out of the abbey, that kind of thing?’
The monk nodded. ‘I can tell you all you require about Brother Alexander’s duties. I have time now while the brethren are undertaking their afternoon’s physical labour. But perhaps we would be more comfortable in my office than out here in the precinct?’ He gestured and Edwin followed him across the open space, past a warren of smaller buildings and into a room which reminded him very much of the steward’s office at Conisbrough. He sat on a stool indicated to him by Brother Helias and looked around at the storage kists and the neat rolls of parchment stacked up on shelves on the wall. He sniffed – a hint of herbs and spices. He felt at home.
‘So, being cellarer is a bit like being the steward?’
Brother Helias eased himself down on to a bench and nodded. ‘Yes. I’m in charge of all the provisions in the abbey – not just food and drink but also things like leather for our sandals and the lay brothers’ boots, and cloth to make our habits. It’s one of the more worldly
Similar Books
