Colin nodded grimly. “Well done. I would say that all of this conspires to inform us that the poor abbot was well adrift, and it seems to me that someone here must have found that fact untenable.”
“But murder?!” I heard the skepticism in my voice and winced at my own naïveté. Did I not know firsthand of killings that had been committed for lesser reasons? And those that appeared to have been carried out for no reason at all?
“Somebody cut out the man’s tongue. They meant him to be silenced in every possible way,” Colin explained as calmly as if he were instructing how to unlatch a door. “That deed alone provides us a great deal of insight into the mindset of the man who did this.”
“Yes”—I slumped forward and rubbed my brow—“ . . . yes, of course.”
“Now, we have work we must accomplish tonight,” he said as he pushed himself off the cot. “I trust you had a good nap while you were waiting for me,” he added, one side of his mouth curling into a thin smile.
“I suppose I did,” I admitted. “What are we going to do?”
“I am going to pillage my way through the abbot’s office,” he said, “before availing myself of the library yet again and rooting through their trash. Which is why I need you to go out to the infirmary and take another look at the abbot’s papers. Now that we know the sort of thing we’re searching for, I need to make certain we haven’t missed anything.”
I raised an eyebrow as I stared back at him through the shimmer of the fat, fluttering candle. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to just ask Father Demetris to get those papers for us? He seems perfectly willing to get us whatever we ask for.”
Colin nodded reticently and once again I knew there was something I was missing. “My concern is that Father Demetris will have no knowledge if Brother Silsbury decides to hold back an item or three. I would rather you steal a look at the papers without them first being sorted through by anyone.”
I knew he was right, but it still left me uneasy. “It seems somehow wrong to suspect a Benedictine monk of such a deception,” I said, realizing how absurd the statement sounded the moment I said it.
“And it will seem even more so when I accuse one of them of murder,” he pointed out, completing the obvious conceit that I had already realized. “Now, give me five minutes before you head out,” he hissed as he moved the few steps to the door. “And for heaven’s sake be careful.” He turned and grabbed the doorknob, opening the door just enough to slide out into the hallway before tossing me a quick shrug of his eyebrows and disappearing with the same faint click that had preceded his entry.
I remained at the table, listening intently for the sound of his footfalls sneaking off down the hallway, but heard nothing. Had we been schoolboys I might have thought he was waiting just outside the door to give me a proper scare, but under the circumstances I knew he was setting an example of stealth I would be expected to emulate. At least I would be alone in the infirmary since Brother Silsbury would have long since retired for the night. That fact was likely the reason Colin was sending me out there while he remained within the monastery itself. Never mind that I’d actually had far more experience skulking about when I was a youth than he ever did.
Unable to rein in my eagerness another moment, I finally stood up and removed both my jacket and vest, and slid one of my suspenders down an arm. If I was spotted by anyone, I decided it would look most natural if it appeared I was merely on my way to the loo. I yanked off my boots and pressed an ear to the door, listening carefully before gradually easing the door open just a crack. Just as I had known would be the case, Colin was not coiled up to spring at me, nor was anyone else. Even so, it felt strangely relieving to find the shadowed hallway very much empty.
I moved out of my cell as quietly as a church mouse, taking care to ensure the door didn’t make any but the tiniest sound as it settled back into place. For an instant I wished I could have brought the fat taper from the table with me but, of course, knew that would never do. I would be far from discreet stealing across the backyard to the infirmary with a candle pitched out in front of me.
After letting my eyes adjust for a moment, I found that even in the relative blackness of the hallway I was still able to find my way to the monastery’s rear exit at the juncture where the corridor turned toward the library, refectory, and the abbot’s office. For an instant I imagined I could hear Colin slipping the bolt on the abbot’s door and edging inside, but I decided that was impossible. For if I were a church mouse, he would be nothing more than a shift in the room’s ambient temperature, a feat that exasperated me given his ability to otherwise disrupt a gathering of people whenever it suited him.
I delicately pushed my way outside and eased the door back into its jamb with the utmost patience. There was nary a click as it nestled into place, bringing a satisfied grin to my face. I could do this, I told myself resolutely, before taking two steps forward and nearly collapsing to the ground as the gravel beneath my stockings gouged into the delicate pads of my feet. A howl surged up through my throat that I managed to cage before it could escape into the chilled night air. My ingenuity within the monastery was leaving me ill prepared to walk outside, and yet I wasn’t about to slink back to my cell for my shoes. I didn’t want to be doing this in the first place—I certainly wasn’t about to do it twice.
The moon had yet to make an appearance and the stars were spotty at best, informing me that a contingent of clouds was accumulating overhead and would block out whatever light I had hoped to use to guide my way. Just the same, I could not let it deter me. Staring into the darkness that surrounded me, I realized that I could just make out the wooden structure of the infirmary. It wasn’t far, but neither was it close.
Girding myself with a silent warning to the soles of my feet, I started forward again, hobbling like an elderly man until I could stumble off the stone path and onto the strip of grass astride it. While there were twigs, bits of bark, and scraps of hard-shelled pods scattered about, it was far less unyielding than the pebbled path, and before I knew it I was sidling up to the small infirmary building itself.
The steady rhythm of cicadas was the only sound that accompanied me as I made my way around the right side of the building where I remembered the main door was located. A lone owl hooted overhead, followed by a great flapping of wings, but though I glanced up at the obsidian sky I could not see so much as a shadow swoop across my vision.
With everyone asleep I knew I would have this little building to myself, yet I vowed that I would behave as if someone were coming lest Brother Silsbury should unexpectedly have any reason to make a visit and happen upon me rooting through Abbot Tufton’s things. There would be no suitable explanation for my actions, and even Father Demetris would have a hard time defending me to the monks.
I seized the door handle, anxious to get out of the damp night air, swinging the door hurriedly to move inside, and instantly froze, quickly catching the arcing door with the palm of my hand even before I could step over the threshold. The infirmary’s main room was dark and still just as I had expected, but on the far left side where I knew Brother Silsbury’s office to be, there was a faint glow of candlelight and the even fainter murmur of voices. I was so startled I remained immobile for what felt the longest time, holding the door open with my right hand while looming in the doorway like an unbidden statue. Yet in truth I probably stood there no longer than an instant as I immediately realized that if anyone else were on their way to join whatever furtive meeting was taking place here they would come upon me hovering where I had no business being.
Without another thought I crept inside, allowing the door to close behind me with the greatest care. I was hardly surprised to feel my heart hammering and my breath coming in tight, shallow bursts, and as I stood there like that, I tried to figure out what it was I should do next.
“. . . prattling about . . .”
“. . . the sheer audacity . . .”
“. . . God have mercy on us all . . .”
Fra
gments. I could hear nothing more than fragments. And I couldn’t even be sure how many voices there were or who was speaking.
“You mustn’t get yourself rattled so . . .” someone muttered in a slow, languid sort of way as I moved forward, now grateful to have nothing more on my feet than stockings. “Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.”
“Don’t preach to me,” a second voice snapped.
I thought I heard a low, sly chortle but could not be certain, so I crept farther into the room, crouching low against the wall lest anyone should come in and see me. There was a wooden table with a set of drawers near the open doorway to Brother Silsbury’s office, so I nestled behind it. It was enough to protect me if someone came out of the office, but if anyone entered the room from the main door behind me I would be found incongruously crouched here. I’d have a hell of a time trying to explain myself. I glanced around the area but saw no better place to secrete myself unless I went behind one of the handful of beds. That would ruin my proximity to Brother Silsbury’s office, however, leaving me too far away to make my efforts worthwhile, so I decided to take my chances and stay where I was. My heart instantly took great zeal in taunting me over my gamble, thundering with an alacrity that threatened to burst my chest at any moment.
“Do calm yourself.” It was the same languorous voice I’d heard a moment ago. It sounded familiar, though I could not readily place it.
“If you say that to me one more time I shall pitch you out into the night right onto your besotted head,” the surly voice hissed back.
But this time the second man’s words were enough to make me wonder if perhaps it was Brother Clayworth I was hearing, speaking in his listless, ale-infused way? I had to find out. Sucking in a stilted breath through the aridness of my mouth, I slowly slid forward just far enough until I could peer around the piece of furniture I had all but attached myself to.
The room within was a mire of shadows, interrupted only by one tall, thick candle on the desk and two small lanterns seated on the floor. That explained why I hadn’t noticed any reflected light when I’d passed the few windows dotting the side of the infirmary building. I peered into the gray darkness and could make out two men sitting in chairs across from each another as though facing off. Narrowing my eyes as I stared into the flickering gloom, my heart scampering in my ears, I was finally able to discern Brother Silsbury and Brother Clayworth. Brother Silsbury was hunched over slightly with one hand dug into his short dark brown hair wearing a great agitated frown, while Brother Clayworth looked quite the opposite, lolling back, his head tipped slightly to one side as though he were on the verge of falling asleep.
“I cannot tell whether the ale is any good if I do not taste it,” Brother Clayworth bothered to explain, releasing a soft chuckle that appeared to belie his own defense.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” Brother Silsbury shot back without looking at him.
“Brothers. . . .” a third voice cut in from somewhere behind Brother Silsbury where I could not see, causing me to cringe backward. “The only thing we are accomplishing with this bickering is setting my head to pounding.” The voice was surly and short-tempered, and given what he had said I wondered if it might be Brother Wright.
“And what would be your suggestion?” Brother Silsbury groused, turning and glaring behind himself.
“We should speak with Father Demetris,” came the unseen monk’s answer. And before I knew what was happening a black figure moved out of the darkness from behind Brother Silsbury and stopped in the middle of the small office between the other two monks. I could tell at once by the tall, lean form that I had been correct, it was indeed Brother Wright. When he began to speak again he turned his head, glancing from one brother to the other, and I could make out his distinctive jawline beard etched upon his chin. “We cannot have our shame disgorged in front of those two men. It is unseemly.”
“ ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, sayeth the Lord. . . .’ ” Brother Clayworth murmured.
“Good Christ, Clayworth!” And to my horror Brother Silsbury leapt up and seized the older monk by the collar before Brother Wright reached out and heaved the two of them apart.
“Get hold of yourselves, dammit,” Brother Wright barked. “Do we not have enough happening here without the two of you fighting like reprobates?! There will be no protections if we cannot unify as we are meant to do.” His voice came out rapid and harsh. “Now gather your wits, both of you.” He turned on Brother Clayworth as Brother Silsbury slumped back into his seat. “I suggest you get yourself some sleep and start showing a little bloody self-control.”
“I have self-control . . .” came the lazy reply, which only seemed to further confirm Brother Wright’s point.
“You will if I have to have Brother Nathan follow you about to make certain of it,” Brother Wright sallied back without a hint of jest.
“That sniveling little prig!” Brother Clayworth groused, for the first time sounding very much put-upon. “He’s always watching me as it is. Why do I get all the novices?”
“Because you need watching,” Brother Wright snapped. “Now, come on,” he said, bending low and snatching up one of the lanterns. “There’s nothing more to be done tonight.”
And before I could so much as draw a breath the hem of a black cassock swept past within a foot of my face. I did not move, cursing my heart for rattling my frame as I was sure it was doing, and not a moment later Brother Clayworth brushed by and I would have sworn that the hem of his robe touched the side of my leg. Only after I heard the front door behind me open and slam shut did I slowly ease myself back behind the piece of furniture I’d so thoroughly wrapped myself around. While I could no longer see into the office, I had not heard Brother Silsbury move and decided he must still be sitting in his chair.
I remained where I was for a minute, trying desperately to calm myself, all the while listening for any sounds of Brother Silsbury moving about. But nothing came. And when my muscles began to protest from being thusly crouched, I finally decided to get out of there. Perhaps Brother Silsbury meant to spend the whole of the night here anyway.
With painstaking care I slid back toward the exit, once more grateful for the stockings on my feet. This time I wouldn’t complain when the stones on the path bit into the bottoms of my feet. I would not complain at all.
CHAPTER 26
I dunked my head under the running water and held it there for a moment, trying to rinse the tendrils of sleep from my mind. Sleep had been elusive in the early hours of the night after I’d returned to my cell, so once it came it did not loosen its grip readily. I had wanted to sneak over and speak with Colin as soon as I’d returned from the infirmary, but I feared our being overheard or spied upon and knew I was better served to wait until morning. Still, I had been left quite unsettled for the greater part of the night as I wondered what Colin would make of the hushed conversation I had stumbled upon.
With cold water rushing over my head I could only yearn to have been able to slide into a proper bath to start my day, but there were no bathtubs here. Instead there were only the two long, metal troughs running along opposite walls with spigots interspersed down their lengths. The monks appeared to be content to disrobe to a single cloth wrapped around their waists before washing themselves with their hands and large cakes of common-use soap. Since I was given no such waist cloth to wrap around myself I settled for remaining in my underdrawers, which felt entirely unsatisfactory.
I lifted my head and swiped at my face with a small rag before hurriedly brushing my hair into place with my fingers. Even though there were only two other monks in the rather large bathing space, neither of whom I recognized, I did not like the lack of privacy as I struggled to make myself presentable. The whole of it reminded me of my time at the Easling and Temple Senior Academy. I had not liked it there, either.
One of the monks slipped his cassock on, dropping the little waist cloth to the floor after the casso
ck was fully fastened in place. He stooped to pick it up and left the balneary without a word as I began to soap my upper body. It was all such personal business that I nearly had to fight a blush as I attended to my cleaning, my eyes riveted on the wall in front of me as though that might make me less exposed to the other man in the room.
Even with all of my intensified concentrations I still sensed a moment later when someone else came into the balneary. This new monk’s movements struck me as being hesitant, almost clandestine, and I could not help being piqued by them. If the other monk and I were trying to be discreet, this new entrant seemed to be aiming for invisibility.
In spite of my efforts to mind my own business, I quickly slid my eyes sideways even as I leaned back over the trough to wash the soap from my chest and underarms, and recognized the new entrant as young Brother Hollings. His tall, lanky form with his shoulders arched forward to effectively dispel several inches of his height could not be mistaken for anyone else. For an instant I thought perhaps I should call a greeting to him. Yet standing as I was, half naked and fully out of place, I seized my tongue and kept to my own concerns. When I spied him slinking to the end of the opposite trough in the far corner, I was glad I had held my tongue.
As I dried my upper body I allowed my eyes to dart back to where Brother Hollings was and found him with his cassock still fully on, though he had unfastened the collar several inches. I caught sight of a small patch of something black curling up from his opened neckline before realizing that it had to be an undershirt since a ginger-haired young man would most certainly not be sprouting dark hair across his chest. Undoubtedly the black shirt beneath his cassock was standard issue for these somber monks since it was still quite cold on most days. Brother Hollings rolled his sleeves up to the elbows and I noticed that his arms were as smooth and hairless as his face, leaving me to wonder how old he actually was and whether he’d truly been allowed to settle his own mind about committing himself to this life.
The Dalwich Desecration Page 26
