‘Yes, well …’
‘Of course. It’s bound to be a little difficult at the beginning. And you’ve had huge adjustments to make. Quite beyond what most novices have to contend with. Not least, the weather.’
Aelred kept trying to form a thought in his head into a speech. He thought the Abbot’s habit seemed far too large for him. It almost swallowed him up and he looked minute, sitting in his large abbatial chair. Aelred wondered what the Abbot’s body looked like under his habit. He glanced up at the crucifix. The face of Christ was handsome, though gaunt and sorrowful. Edward’s barebacked body flashed through his mind, blond hair curling around his navel.
The Abbot took off his glasses and cleaned them with the tip of his scapular. ‘You were saying …’ The telephone rang. The Abbot picked up the receiver gruffly, throwing up his eyes at Aelred, indicating his irritation at being interrupted. ‘Yes, Father Mark. That’s what I decided. That’s what I told you yesterday.’ The Abbot glanced at Aelred. Aelred felt embarrassed overhearing a conversion with the Cellarer in which the Abbot was being patronising, obviously irritated by something Father Mark had got wrong. ‘Anyway, see me in half an hour, I have a young novice here at the moment.’ The receiver clattered in its hold and fell on the desk, and then the Abbot had to put it back properly. ‘Where were we? He rubbed his ring against the palm of the opposite hand. This was ostensibly to shine it. Why? Aelred thought. But it was also like someone sporting for a fight.
‘I don’t mind the weather. I quite like it. It’s a novelty.’ Aelred said tentatively.
‘Yes, well, that’s splendid. But there’s one little matter.’ The Abbot tidied his sheafs of papers again. ‘The Imitation of Christ.’ The Abbot picked up the book as if it had come to hand miraculously at that moment. ‘This is the book that will help you. It has been tested. It is uncontroversial. A tested spiritual guide.’
‘Father?’
‘No need to say anything, brother. Father Justin has told me the whole story. Yes, I think Benedict had the best intentions in giving you Aelred of Rievaulx but I’m sure you understand now …’
‘No,’ Aelred blurted out.
‘I’m sure you see the sense of this.’ The Abbot spoke over Aelred’s attempt to speak. ‘And I must insist, brother, from what Father Justin has described, that you and Brother Benedict should not meet alone. I don’t think that would be wise.’
‘Father Justin said that you were banning Aelred of Rievaulx from novitiate reading. He didn’t say anything else was wrong.’
‘Brother, we don’t need to spell this out. As you well know, even Aelred of Rievaulx would agree that dwelling on the description of sin is in itself a way to encourage it.’
‘Sin? What sin, father?’
‘Well, you know what I mean, the occasion of sin. “In much talking thou shalt not avoid sin”.’ The Abbot quoted the holy Rule. ‘You know that. You did very well at you examination on the holy Rule before your clothing. The whole council was very pleased with you.’
Aelred felt humiliated. He felt like crying. He felt angry. The Abbot was not listening. The Abbot was not allowing him to talk. Then what could he tell the Abbot? He was right. But at the same time Aelred felt something was wrong. This man should be helping him. Father Justin should be helping him. There was only Basil. Not to see Benedict alone! What did the Abbot and Father Justin talk about? What did they really know? What were they not saying? Or were they just guessing, trying to avoid anything happening. Father Justin would have his eyes peeled for every transgression. This rule was going to be impossible. How on earth was he going to obey this rule?
‘Father, I …’
‘I think you must just obey, brother. That’s the hardest part of our life, the vow of obedience. You will take this vow in a few months. You must practise this now. Father Justin says that you have the making of a good monk, but there are these few things to get right at the beginning. In time it will be more appropriate to see Brother Benedict as you would any of your other brothers. But for the moment a little restraint in this matter is needed, it will be good for you and for him. You must think of him. You are very young brother. Very enthusiastic. Impulsive. Maybe it’s the hot climate you come from.’ The Abbot smiled. This was a joke, Aelred thought, but then he felt that the Abbot meant it. ‘Anyway our rule was written in Italy, so it’s well tested for those in the sunshine.’ The Abbot smiled again, getting up from his desk, indicating that the meeting was over. They walked together to the door. Aelred knelt and kissed his ring. The Abbot gave him a blessing, making the sign of the cross over his head. ‘Thomas à Kempis, brother, The Imitation of Christ.’
Aelred tried to smile. He closed the door behind him inadvertently lifting the ‘Pax Vobiscum’ knocker, then grabbing it tightly before it knocked again at the Abbot’s door. He put his hood on and made for the cloister. He walked near the wall of the corridor, as was the custom. He walked with head bowed, his eyes downcast. He needed some air. He needed to walk. He needed to run. He couldn’t go to Benedict. He did not want to bother Basil today. He thought he might visit him later in the week. He had to get some help. Now he felt that Father Abbot and Father Justin knew everything that had been happening.
He remembered again bowing to the Abbot that night when he and Benedict had kissed and embraced in the side chapel. The Abbot could not know the details of that. It must have been what Father Justin had heard and even seen in the library. He tried to settle his mind by saying the rosary as he walked around the cloister. As he came back into the corridors on the way to the novitiate, he noticed Benedict going into the Abbot’s room and Father Justin coming out. What was going on? All these meetings? Something serious, much more serious, was happening.
Maybe he could still get a mug of coffee, Aelred thought, or had he missed the mid-morning coffee break? He was just passing the pantry and, as he passed, he heard music coming from inside. Then he remembered that Brother Angel, who was blind, worked in the pantry and was allowed a radio. Aelred retraced his steps and put his head round the door. The monks were encouraged to do that sometimes, to say hello to Brother Angel, to cheer him up. Edward was sitting on the edge of a table in the middle of the pantry, sorting out a cluster of tins of fruit and vegetables. Obviously he was on dinner duty. Brother Angel was at a smaller table, shelling beans into a basin. On the radio was the tune, ‘Love, love me do. You know I love you’.
Edward looked up. His lips were formed into a whistle. He smiled, humming the tune. He paused. ‘Benedicite,’ he said pointedly. ‘The Beatles, brother.’ He whistled along, pointing at the radio. Brother Angel chuckled.
‘Are you being distracted, brother?’ Aelred put his arm on Brother Angel’s shoulder. ‘How are you today?’
‘Not at all, not at all. Fine, brother. It’s a catchy tune.’
‘Is this the station you want, brother? Not your usual?’
Edward laughed. ‘He’s taking a break from the Home Service, aren’t you, Brother Angel?’
‘That’s right. Who’s that?’ Brother Angel indicated to Aelred that he did not recognise Edward’s voice.
‘A relatively new postulant, brother. One who’s not far off his clothing. Who hasn’t quite given up the world.’ Aelred looked at Edward smirking. Brother Angel chuckled.
‘It’s just a bit of innocent fun,’ Brother Angel said solemnly, scratching his beard.
‘Is there any coffee left?’ Aelred said to Edward who would have cleared the refectory earlier to lay the places for dinner - an expression Aelred could not get used to. He still thought of it as lunch. Dinner was what he had with his parents, a fine meal which Toinette cooked and served. White linen and silver!
‘Yes, I think the urn is still warm. You might be lucky.’ Edward continued humming. The Beatles sang, ‘Love, love me do. You know I love you.’
Silence settled on the siesta of the monks. The heat shimmered over Ashton Park. Aelred could not rest, could not stay in the dormitory to rest, could not lie three c
ubicles away from Edward, whom he could hear shuffling at his desk, not resting either. All the windows of the dormitory were open. The cool breeze, coming off the hillside beneath the cemetery, blew the white cotton curtains of the cubicles. They soared to the vaulted ceiling of the dormitory. If only he could speak to Benedict and find out what had been going on this morning.
Aelred went to the common room to browse among the bookshelves there. He was soon distracted from that. He was preoccupied with his meeting with Father Abbot, his last meeting with Father Justin and all that seemed to be implied in what they had said. He stood with his face against the glass of the tall windows in the common room, looking out on to the thick laurel and holly hedges. Suddenly, there was a thud. A swallow had flown straight at the closed window, stunning itself against the glass, and had fallen to the ground. It had all happened in an instant. It took Aelred completely out of himself. He opened the window and looked down at the ground below the window. He watched the small bird. It lay there panting, moving its legs. Its head shuddered. Its wings folded. Then its legs stopped moving.
Aelred went and got his work on the translation of the psalms. Then he took himself to the grave of Jordan, to kneel in the shade and translate his psalms. On the way he picked up the dead swallow. As he entered the cemetery he stooped down and buried it under some dead leaves and twigs.
Brother Sebastian’s grave had still to be filled in. That would be done after None. Maybe he would be detailed again for grave duty.
On the soft green turf below the whispering yew trees, a balm for his hurt, he was soon distracted from his translations. Overhead, he heard the sharp clicks and whistles of the swallows, which were darting at a furious speed, weaving in and out of each other above the cemetery and darting to their nests below the eaves of the chapel. He noticed one swallow in particular. It swooped and arced. It darted into a weeping ash tree, and was out again and then under the far eave of the chapel. It continued this journey back and forth, building a home.
You’re like those swallows, the travelling you’ve done, Miss Amy say.
Yes, Miss Amy. Master Newton point them out at sea. He say we’ll see you in England, talking to the birds. We up on deck when I hear him say that. They call it Bristol. You must know Bristol. That is what we hear when we still on the sea. Bound for Bristol. Everyday I so sick, I happy to be going anywhere and stopping anywhere. What a clamour there is when we out on to the deck. We still in chains down under. Lots of fellas sick and womenfolk crying. One morning, not far from Maderia, I wake up. It calm for the last hour or two. This fella, his name is Joseph, or that is what the white sailor who loose our chains call him. They just call us by a name. But he dead, Miss Amy. I think he asleep, leaning on me. But he is slump against me because he is dead, Miss Amy.
It is early morning when we dock in Bristol. But people know we come. Such a clamour when we come out into the cold and have to stand up. Six of us chain together get push to one corner where a number of gentlemen come to look at us. But Master Walter pick me out and say, I is one of his breed. The man who speak with Master Walter sound like a man I hear speak in Virginia. He come and look us over and poke us with his walking stick, which has a silver top, I notice. It shine like a candle in his hand in that dark, cold, early morning. And he have a watch in his pocket. I know his voice well, for once I go there. And once to South Carolina, on a boat on a river called Waccamaw. Me and a boy called Jack, we try to escape there into the swamps, which is wooded with oak and pine and cyprus. We hide there among the reeds and rushes. Me and Jack. He come like my twin brother I lose when they take me from my village. And is a solace, I remember, the beauty of a flowering magnolia. But we get catch and take to Charleston. Then I get take back to the island and find myself with Master Walter once more.
Because I is a runaway he beat me, Miss Amy. He hang me up and beat me.
Then when we arrive in Bristol we is in these narrow dark streets and I hear the cry, Black boy for sale. Master Walter, and the man who speak like that man I hear in Virginia, follow the cry down the narrow streets. There is this clanging of signs, each proclaiming another black boy for sale. Well limbed and fit to serve a gentleman, is the cry. The clanging of the signs mix with the sound of iron, the iron of the contraptions. The man I hear like a man in Virginia, he telling Master Walter about more contraptions he can show him from Virginia, like the ones he has back in a home in Kentucky. Never can do without them, when leaving them niggers with the womenfolk. That is later when we come to this house that have stables out in the back and we get to lie down in some straw, next to where there are some horses. I hear the gentleman like I hear a gentleman in Virginia sound, call a little girl, Bessy. He tell Bessy give some hot drink, some bread and dripping. We eat and drink anything they give us, and me and the five fellas sleep. One of them I hear Master Walter call Jonah. I never know his name is Jonah.
Then I wake from a dream of a ship sinking in the sea, from a storm and a ship crashing on the rocks. I hear the gentleman like that gentleman in Virginia talking to Master Walter. I peep through a hole in the stable and I see into a room hang with saddles and stirrups and reins, and this same gentleman is showing Master Walter his contraptions, which he is taking out of a trunk mark Bristol. These are his contraptions from Kentucky, which he is saying Master Walter needs to use on the young breed that he buy. He show him the muzzle, then he show him the mask and last of all he bring out that thing they call the bit, and he explain to Master Walter how to use it. And how confounding good it is to keep that breed in control if he wants to get his money worth, for they are natural lazy, natural indolent, and wish all the time to run away.
Miss Amy say, tucking her sick father into his chair by the fire, some of you darkie lads must be scoundrels, I suppose. You better watch for the young Master Walter. There is no knowing what young Master Walter might do when he flies into a fury, Miss Amy say, going out to fill the kettle at the pump in the yard. I can tell you some tales myself, my lad. That is what Miss Amy of Somerset say that evening when she go out into the yard where the swallows still darting and swooping, clicking and whistling. They’ve come back home, Miss Amy say, looking up into warm May evening. I swear them is the very same birds that was here last year, Miss Amy say with authority in her voice.
Swallows persisted with their darting and making a swooping arc above the cemetery, in and out from under the far eave of the chapel into the ash trees and back again, building a home in England while Aelred struggled with his translations.
The bell for None brought Aelred back to the same Ashton Park. He made his way quickly from the cemetery to the novitiate to put down his books. The novices were shuffling from siesta along the corridor to choir. Aelred went via the library and the oak staircase. He had this fancy to check the portrait of the boy he called Jordan. Then he went to his position as acolyte of the choir near the holy water font. Aelred dipped his fingers into the holy water font and offered them to Benedict as he entered the choir. Benedict’s face was blank. He could not read any explanations for the questions he had crowding his mind. Last of all in the procession was Edward. Edward’s eyes met his for a second, then were lowered again as he entered the choir. The celebrant for the week intoned: ‘Deus in adutorium meum intende.’ The community responded: ‘Domine aduvandum me festina …’ ‘Lord, make haste to help me.’ Festina! Quickly.
The two novices, Aelred and Edward, were put to work at haymaking that afternoon. Aelred had wished to have Benedict near him, because, whatever the new rules Father Abbot and Father Justin were making for their relationship, he had to speak at least one more time. Aelred delayed his departure to the fields and lingered in the basement where the monks changed from their house shoes into their work boots. At first, the basement was busy with monks coming and going. Aelred pretended that his laces were in a knot and sat fiddling with them.
The last to leave was Edward. ‘I’ll see you in the fields,’ he said.
‘Yes. I won’t be long.’<
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‘We must get those climbing boots.’ Edward lingered by the door out into the courtyard.
‘Yes, maybe.’ Aelred did not look up.
As Edward closed the door behind him, Aelred caught a snatch of the tune he had heard that morning in the pantry. Edward was whistling it as he closed the door. The words came to him: ‘Love, love me do. You know I love you.’ When Aelred looked up Edward had left.
The basement was dark and cool and smelt of dirty socks and sweaty boots. A tap dripped into the basin in the corner. Where was Benedict?
Brother Theodore came down to the basement and changed into his boots. He smiled at Aelred. ‘Any new wild flowers, brother?’
Aelred looked up, pretending hard to be working on his knot. ‘There’s campion and speedwell in the hedgerows. I’ve got those.’
‘Yes, pink and blue. The speedwell runs under the white daisies and cow parsley. A river of blue. I checked with Father Christopher about the tropical plants book. He says it’s ordered. What’s it like in your country now?’
‘Rainy.’ Aelred thought for a moment, as if he doubted himself, and then said again, ‘Yes, it’s rainy season.’
‘Rainy. Well, we’ve got a lot of that stuff here. But we’re having quite a dry spell. We need it after that winter. Well, I’ll be off. And you keep your chin up, brother. You look a little glum this afternoon. Make hay while the sun shines.’ Brother Theodore chuckled as he fumbled with the door knob.
Aelred's Sin Page 22
