Page 7 of Sacred Virtues
I stop mid sentence and close my jaw with a snap.
“I see you’ve shown your hand early, Mr de Selcey,” Theobald says with a slight smirk. I try to swallow, but my throat is too dry and I start to cough. Theobald rises and goes to the door, opening it quickly.
“Abel. Abel!” he calls. “Please fetch Mr de Selcey a drink, lest he dies of asphyxiation.”
The manservant appears a few seconds later with some milk, which I guzzle down, almost coughing it back up. But the fit subsides, which I’m grateful for.
A bell starts chiming. Those blasted bells.
“Ah, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to prayers,” Theobald says almost apologetically.
“But we’re not done here!” I almost shout.
“We are for now. I think my time would be better spent praying that one of us is wise enough to get us out of this.” He sweeps out of the room before I can reply, and all I’m left with is Abel and the embarrassment that I’ve somehow fucked it all up.
CHAPTER 5
THEOBALD
As the singing dies away, the last voice wavering on the final note, there’s silence across the church. Even the novices know not to shuffle and make a noise. In a moment I’ll lead the final prayer, but first I gaze up at the stained glass window at the far west end of the church. It depicts the crucifixion. I’ve always thought it symbolised hope, but now it seems to hold a darker meaning. Perhaps we are being forsaken.
A discreet cough from Brother Sean reminds me I’ve taken too long, and I look back at my prayer book, reading out the final prayer of this session. Once over, the monks don’t return to their work. It’s time for our Chapter House meeting. Usually I would start by reading from theRegula Benedictibefore any abbey matters or other points of discussion, and sometimes, though rarely, this session is used for discipline if needed. Reading a chapter of our rules doesn’t feel right today. Maybe it’s the lingering feeling of futility or the fact that our fate is the more important subject.
I sit in the heavy wooden chair at the front of the room and wait while the monks fill the benches. Our numbers have swelled so much in the last year that some are forced to stand around the perimeter.
“Brothers. I have grave news. You may have noticed a visitor arrived yesterday. He is here to seek closure of the Abbey. I know some of you have been through this before, and I had hoped that we might be spared. But it seems the king is determined that no religious house is to be left standing in the whole country.”
I pause and let that sink in. Some of the monks, especially those who have recently joined us, are nodding. Some of the less aware ones are looking startled.
“I am seeking a settlement that will allow a suitable pension for us, but I feel there’s not much hope of that. I would suggest if you have other arrangements that you seek to follow them.”
There’s some muttering amongst the monks. Normally I wouldn’t allow such behaviour, but many of them will be rattled.
“Are you expelling us?” one of the brothers pipes up. I fix him with a glare because he dared speak without showing first that he had a question and was invited to ask it. He drops his eyes and looks away. His question is valid, though, and I choose to answer it.
“I will never turn away anyone in need of solace or salvation, but I am saying that these may not be found within these walls for much longer.”
There’s an almost collective gasp and a few murmurs of agreement. Unwilling to let our regimen fall apart and risk any more unsolicited questions, I ask if anyone does have anything to say.
A few shout out their views and it becomes noisy for a few minutes. No one seems to have anything meaningful to add, though, so I call for silence again. A young monk, a new member whose name I have yet to learn, raises his hand and I indicate he may speak.
“How much time do we have?”
I sigh out a breath. As much as I dislike the offer Emmett has proffered, it is the only offer and I know it’s inevitable. I’ll prolong signing away our fate for as long as possible, but it won’t last forever. And once that happens, as I’ve understood from questioning monks who joined us from Eynsham, we can expect the bailiffs within a few days if they’re close by
“Two weeks, a month if we’re lucky.”
Immediately after dropping that unwelcome news, I dismiss the meeting. I cannot stomach their disappointment right now, but I do remind them that we will still carry out our business and will pray for the strength to get through it. I’m pleased to see that they maintain silence, at least until they’re out of my earshot.
Francis, Sean, and Matthew come and sit on the bench directly opposite me as the last monks file out. Brother Kennard marches past us, his face like stone and his arms rigid by his side.
“What’s his problem?” Sean asks as we all watch him leave, and I shrug. I have no idea and I don’t have the time to worry about it.
“Ooooof.” Francis blows out a breath as he turns back round to face me. “We’re in a sorry plight for sure.”
“Can the commissioner be reasoned with?” Matthew asks. Almost as old as me, Matthew joined the abbey ten years after me. He was a ship's surgeon for a long time but sought a quieterlife. He found it hard to adjust at first, but I liked him a lot and we quickly became good friends. We’ve often sought each other’s counsel, and even though he can be rough and ready, he is usually wise. Francis and Sean arrived some fifteen years ago and soon earned our friendship. Whilst I care for all of the monks and lay staff in the abbey, these three are my closest friends. I know that I would never have been a successful abbot without their support, and I want to make sure they’re not left without anything for the work they’ve put in here. But still, it feels quite hopeless at the moment.
“I don’t think he has much bargaining power,” I reply grimly. “I feel he’s nothing more than a messenger boy.”
