The Heretics of De'Ath (The Chronicles of Brother Hermitage Book 1)

by Howard of Warwick

  The man glared at him.

  'If the Bishop is anxious that the matter be resolved,' Nicodemus went on, ignoring the interruption, 'and he wants it done quietly and quickly, then that is what will happen. The evil of De'Ath's Dingle needs to be eradicated. That can only be achieved by a monk of some considerable insight, ability and courage.’

  Simon rallied a bit at this. Only a bit, though. He was lost in his thoughts. From the look on his face they weren't very encouraging ones.

  Hermitage thought that this was all getting out of hand. Foul play, evil, the devil. All patently ridiculous. After all, he had been there at the time.

  'You may also need to know that the Abbot of De'Ath's Dingle is a remarkable man.’ Nicodemus chose his word carefully.

  'That's true,' Hermitage mumbled, before he realised it had been out loud and clapped a hand to his mouth.

  'He may take some persuasion that there is indeed evil afoot in his monastery. Once you have uncovered the evidence you may feel that the best course of action is to bring it back to the Bishop's attention, and let him deal with it as he sees fit.’

  Simon looked like he didn't know whether to sigh or be sick. His strength of purpose had withered and dropped off.

  'Perhaps, Nicodemus, there is a monk who is more adept at this work than I?’ he suggested hopefully. 'Brother Wulfan has always taken a keen interest in the works of the devil, and how they may be countered.’

  'Yes,' said Nicodemus, 'And we all know what form the “interest” has taken. And why Brother Wulfan has to be restricted to the confines of the church during the hours of darkness. The Bishop is quite clear: you are the man for the task, Brother. He has even gone so far, for the purposes of this matter, to nominate you as the King's Investigator.’

  Calculation crossed Simon's face. The previous panic subsided, his chest swelled.

  'The King's Investigator.’ Simon spoke as if he had asked for a glass of ale and been handed the Holy Grail.

  'Absolutely.’ Nicodemus let the title and the moment sink in.

  Hermitage was puzzled once again. He half-raised a hand to ask a question, but realised that whatever the answer was, it would put either Simon or Nicodemus in an awkward position. Hadn't Nicodemus indicated, in his conversation with Hermitage, that the King's Investigator had expertise? Yet here he was, appointing the Investigator for the first time. And he wasn't even close to the king.

  Nicodemus rose, keen to see both men gone.

  'So, Master Investigator,' the tall man said, helping Simon towards the door, 'perhaps if you arrange to meet at Prime you can make the short journey to De'Ath's Dingle in the company of Brother Hermitage.’

  'Hermitage,' said Simon, as if trying to remember who that was. 'Very well.’ He assumed his most self-important look. 'Perhaps I had better be about my preparations and let one or two key people know of my appointment.’

  Nicodemus pressed a firm hand on Simon's back to help him out of the main door. He gestured at Hermitage and waved him away.

  Outside it was almost dark. 'Well, Brother,' Simon said, in a rather ungrateful and remote tone, 'I have some business to be about. Return here at Prime and you may accompany me.’

  With that he was gone.

  'Well, really,' said Hermitage crossly. He spoke loudly, half hoping that it would be heard.

  …

  He turned away from the church compound, intending to find the monastic house where he could arrange his lodgings. The evening town had come to life. Lights were lit, taverns were full and bustling. People were wandering up the hill from the town below, keen for some sort of treat after the labours of the day. Hermitage could imagine that he was back in ancient times, and any moment a column of Roman soldiers would appear.

  Directly opposite were the remains of the Roman Fortress and the young monk found himself drawn to them. As he wandered across the large square between the two buildings, sacred and profane, he noticed a group of men gathered in a rather large huddle. Hermitage lingered, puzzling over what was going on.

  There was a major piece of drainage work in hand. Two large trenches were dug in the slope of the square, presumably to divert all the filth of the nearby housing over the edge of the hill. From there it could safely be deposited on the poor people who lived below.

  The group of men must have been working on this, as a pile of tools mirrored the huddle. What was it, he wondered, that had drawn them away from their task? Perhaps there had been an injury. Could he render some assistance?

  As Hermitage approached, an urgent whisper ran round, followed by much nudging and turning of backs. Had he been remotely worldly-wise, Hermitage would have seen a number of articles being hastily held behind backs and thrust up tunics. Rather like a wave breaking against rocks, the band of misbehaving workmen scattered in the face of the tide of a religious do-gooder.

  In the centre of the rapidly dispersing men, who seemed to have found a sudden interest in their discarded tools, was a single figure, bent double, rapidly packing a roll and binding it with rope. It was a figure Hermitage recognised.

  'Ah, Master Weaver,' said Hermitage, 'good evening to you.’

  'Oh,' said Wat as he watched the workmen scatter, 'it's you.’

  'We seem fated to meet,' Hermitage said.

  'Yes, we do, don't we?’ said Wat, not happy with the Fates.

  'Is your business done for the day?’

  'Looks like it now.’ Wat scanned the square, but everyone looked the other way.

  With Wat's roll of tapestry safely stored in a bag, the pair wandered up the Bailgate. Hermitage expanded at length about the investigation and the need to return to the monastery in the morning. Wat, however, seemed distracted and looked around constantly.

  At one point a rather large fellow approached from an alleyway and took steps towards them. He seemed intent on discussing an issue with Wat, but somehow shied away when he saw Hermitage. Despite the smell, Wat moved closer to the monk and was suddenly interested in the conversation. The large man followed at a not very discrete distance.

  'So you say there's to be some examination of events?’

  'That's right,' Hermitage replied. 'Absolutely fascinating. I've never been engaged in one myself, but I will be most interested to see the King's man in action, as it were. To be appointed King's Investigator must mean he has the most impressive intellect.’ Hermitage was trying to convince himself as much as Wat.

  'But what's he going to be examining?’ Wat raised pertinent questions, while still looking everywhere but at Hermitage.

  'The circumstances of Ambrosius’s death,' Hermitage was positively excited.

  'Good idea.’

  'There might be evil.’

  'What? About sand in shoes?’

  'Well, I don't know exactly. I expect the King's Investigator will unearth all the details. I must say, I hadn't realised that this debate was of such importance.’

  'Great importance to someone,' Wat said lightly, although his brow had creased. 'So what are your plans now, Brother?’

  'Oh, I must return to the Bishop's house at Prime and attend upon the Investigator. It will be an honour to accompany him back to the monastery.’ He wasn't really sure about this, but Simon had been appointed by a figure of authority and that was that. Even if the figure of authority was casting shadows of doubt across Hermitage's normally crystal clear view of the world. A view entirely black and white, but nonetheless crystal clear.

  'I see. And where do you stay until then?’

  'Oh, I shall find the monastic lodgings. They must be around here somewhere.’ Hermitage cast his gaze up and down the street as if there would be a sign.

  'I shan't hear of such a thing.’ Wat said, in a rather loud and declamatory style. 'I too will be leaving Lincoln at dawn, and as we travelled here together we could leave together. You must share my lodgings, and then I can accompany you part way in the morning.’

  'My son, my son, you shame me with your generosity and you restore my faith in t
he fundamental goodness of the human spirit,' Hermitage beamed.

  Wat rolled his eyes.

  The large fellow, who was still close by harrumphed. Hermitage thought it most rude, listening to other peoples’ conversations.

  'But, my son, why would you want to return with me? You have only just arrived in the city yourself? Is your business done so quickly?’

  'It usually is,' Wat was much quieter now. 'I find that it's in my best interests to move on to the next opportunity as quickly as possible.’

  'In fact,' Wat continued, 'it is a religious establishment that I am seeking next as I have heard that major building work is taking place.’

  'Really?’ Hermitage was always interested to talk of the religious world.

  'Yes.’ Wat went on. 'The last group I was speaking to said that a search had gone out for craftsmen of the highest standard to make themselves known for a significant body of work. Doubtless some noble wanting the world turned around because it faces the wrong way.’

  'Weren't they going themselves?’

  'Them?’ Wat said with some shock in his voice. 'No, no. They're more journeymen than craftsmen. The new place sounds interesting, though. Wherever there are craftsmen, working folk and nobles gathered together I find commissions for new works. If I take orders early, then by the time the building is complete I can deliver tapestries to personal designs to add that individual finishing touch.’ Wat sounded like he was trying to sell Hermitage some tapestry.

  'Well, of course I am most gratified that we shall share company a little longer. What is the establishment you seek?’

  'It's a monastery,' said Wat, 'in a place called De'Ath's Dingle, do you know it?’

  Hermitage was knocked back.

  'I do, my son, I do. And I can go further than give you excellent directions to it as I am travelling there myself.’

  'Oh, marvellous,' said Wat, although he didn't sound like it was marvellous.

  'But I am afraid you have been misinformed.’

  'Oh?’ said Wat in clear disappointment. 'What makes you say that?’

  'De'Ath's Dingle is the very monastery I have come from. The place of the debate and poor Ambrosius’s death. I have been there for some months and can assure you that there is no development taking place. Indeed, the monastery is one of the most austere I have ever visited. Its Abbot is one of the most austere parts of it and he wouldn't sanction improvements of any sort. He's more likely to have any comfortable parts knocked down.’

  ‘That's very odd. The workmen were clear about the name. It's not the sort of thing you get wrong, not in my line.’

  Hermitage raised an eyebrow.

  'It's always important to keep the clients in the right order,' Wat explained with a wink, 'doesn't do to turn up at the door of the nobleman with a tapestry showing scenes of our Lord curing the blind. Or at the monastery step with a, erm, hunting scene, shall we say.’

  'I can see that,' Hermitage said, nodding. He took the point.

  'Perhaps there is somewhere else in the vicinity that goes by the same name, a chapel or a church perhaps?’

  Hermitage thought hard.

  'It is possible, I suppose, I haven't travelled outside the walls of the monastery until now.’

  'That could be it then,' said Wat, 'I shall confirm the place later. In the meantime my business is done and we can retire to my lodgings for some food and a good night’s rest.’

  'Perhaps I might even press upon your hospitality for some fresh clean water. Just between you and I,' at this point Hermitage leant conspiratorially towards Wat, who shied away, 'I do believe my habit is becoming unsavoury.’

  …

  When Hermitage saw Wat's lodgings, he began to suspect that he was more than a simple and humble weaver. The man had said they could share, which usually meant a portion of floor, or at very best a corner of a straw pallet.

  When Wat led him into the large building, for building it was, Hermitage thought that they must have more business to conduct before moving on to the lodgings in the shacks beyond the Newport Arch. They were greeted as if Wat was a long-lost member of the family.

  'Ah, how wonderful to see you again, sir,' said a well-dressed man who greeted Wat with a handshake and immediately took his bag. He handed this to a small boy, who, to Hermitage's mind, could not possibly afford the clothes he stood up in if he were a working child. 'I trust you had a good journey.’

  The man led them through an entrance hall which made the Bishop's House look like a woodshed, and into a room which had tables and chairs and even books just lying about with no sign of the librarian to guard them.

  'Oh good enough, Barns, good enough, thank you.’

  Hermitage was perplexed by both the place and what was going on around him.

  'This is Brother Hermitage,' said Wat to the man called Barns, who acted as if having a dirty, smelly monk in his nice house was the most normal thing in the world. 'He'll need a room with facilities, and I think we'd be ready to eat.’

  'Of course, sir. I'll put him in the Augustus room and send a boy straight up. Welcome to The Hill Top Lincoln, Brother Hermitage.’

  Hermitage gaped.

  'The very best lodgings in the country sir, and every one on top of a hill. Away from all the filth and the people who wallow in it.’

  It sounded like some sort of slogan. Hermitage didn't think much of it.

  'And I think he'll need a new habit, this one has suffered some misfortune along the way.’

  'Indeed, sir,' said Barns in clear agreement. 'I shall send a boy out immediately.’

  How many boys did this man have?

  Wat made to move off. 'I'm in the usual room?’

  'All ready for you, just as you like it.’

  'Excellent, oh, and Barns?’

  'Sir?’

  'I'm not available should there be any, erm, visitors.’

  'Of course, sir.’

  'Right Hermitage, see you back here in about an hour then. Make yourself at home.’

  …

  As they were parting for the night, after a long dinner of fine lamb, followed by many strong drinks, Wat came close to Hermitage and spoke in a low voice. 'You are sure that going back is a good idea? Can't the Investi-what not deal with it?’

  'Of course I must go back. It is at the Bishop's command. Well, his man's command. I must render what assistance I can to the investigation.’

  'Even though this Athan was making accusations against you?’

  'A natural reaction.’

  'And your Abbot sent you out on the road?’

  'Quite understandable.’

  'Where you were attacked?’

  'A coincidence.’

  'And there's already one dead monk.’

  'These things happen.’

  'Please yourself, but on your own head be it.’ Wat said in a very serious tone with an unnecessary emphasis on 'head'.

  As Hermitage settled down for sleep in a bed far more comfortable than he deserved, his stomach began a long, one sided conversation, enumerating all its complaints. First, King Harold was now involved in this business, whatever it was, and his Investigator would be dealing with it. This was bound to put Hermitage in just the sort of situation his stomach hated most; people be accusing him of things, asking him questions and generally getting very excited. Second, he was out of his routine, he hadn’t followed the daily orders for some time now and that was always unsettling. Finally he had eaten and drunk too much. His stomach made it quite clear this was going to be a long night, so Hermitage better stay awake and pay attention.

  Caput VII

  Day Four Prime

  The next dawn was cold and refreshing. After the warmth and comfort of the Hill Top, Hermitage felt he had fallen through the ice of a lake. This new habit was a garment of marvellous quality, far better than his old one, which the Hill Top had burned for some reason. It still did little to keep out the freeze.

  Wat waited while Hermitage fetched the King's Investigator
. De'Ath's Dingle was on the way back to the tapestry workshop, so the journey would not be wasted when he found no building work and no craftsmen.

  At the Bishop's House Hermitage found Simon pacing up and down in a very impatient manner.

  'Greetings, Brother,' the young monk said and offered a bow.

  'Where have you been?’ was the irritated reply. 'It is long past dawn and the King's Investigator is a busy man.’

  Hermitage thought this was a bit rich after he'd helped the man last night. 'Ah,' was all he could say. The man had only been appointed last night – how could he be busy already? His short days away from the monastic discipline, combined with the luxury of the Hill Top, had affected Hermitage. The behaviour of this churchman of new found importance somehow rankled with him.

  'Well, come, come, let us be off. I must attend to this matter at De'Ath's Dingle and return to the Bishop's service forthwith.’ Brother Simon's fussiness was tangible.

  After a short walk they drew up to the end of Bailgate. Hermitage peeled off and made for the door of the Hill Top.

  'Where are you going?’ The King's Investigator barked.

  Hermitage paused. 'We are fortunate to have a travelling companion with us for our journey and he is staying here,' he explained, gesturing a hand towards the lodgings.

  'I don't think we can have anything to do with anyone staying there, Brother.’ Simon was shocked. He fidgeted on the spot and wrung his hands.

  'Oh, it's not too bad,' Hermitage responded, 'I stayed there myself last night. I'm ashamed to say it was very comfortable.’

  'Good Lord,' Brother Simon said, put out by this piece of news.

  Hermitage frowned. He had probably come across as terribly ostentatious.

  'It's actually quite pleasant,' he tried to sound humble. 'Far too good for a man of devotion, of course, but Mr Wat...’

  Simon didn't seem to be listening, 'Quite pleasant?’ he said, rather nonplussed. He looked Hermitage up and down, took a step forward and ran a fold of Hermitage's brand new habit between thumb and finger.

  'Good Lord,' he said again.