Brother's Blood (24 page)

‘How can you tell?'

‘Well, look here – you can't read it very well because the ink is smeared, but this is how you arrange the figures in columns, with the grade of wool, the weight and the price.'

Edwin stared, and as he did so, some of the mess on the page seemed to become clearer. That was why the writing had seemed the wrong way up – because it was in columns and not in long lines across the page. He looked up at the merchant standing over him. If Aylwin had had something to do with dubious wool deals, or with hiding this ledger, surely he would not be standing there so brazenly looking at it; he would not have volunteered to Edwin the information about what it was, he would look a bit … guiltier?

Edwin decided to take a chance. ‘If you were to look through this ledger – when it's dried out, I mean – would you be able to tell whether there was anything wrong with it?'

Aylwin frowned. ‘Wrong with it? What are you suggesting?'

Edwin should have known that a man didn't become a respected and prosperous merchant without being intelligent. ‘Nothing, nothing. I just thought that maybe someone had thrown it away because the numbers were wrong, or maybe it's really old and they don't need it any more.' That sounded feeble, even to him, for nobody would throw parchment away – they would scrape it clean and use it again and again, until it eventually wore right through.

Aylwin was looking doubtful. ‘It's very wet and difficult to read, I grant you, but I'm willing to have a try if you like. I'm still waiting for the lord abbot to tell me who I'm supposed to talk to, so I'm only waiting around in the meantime. Please God they'll appoint a new master of the lay brothers soon.' He sat down on the bench next to Edwin.

There was no point in them both looking at it. ‘Thank you, Master Aylwin. I'm very grateful to you. I'll leave you to it as I have something else to attend to, but perhaps we may speak later?'

The merchant grunted, already engrossed in trying to make sense of the ink splatters in front of him. Edwin made his way out of the guesthouse to find Martin, because one thing was certain – he needed to go to the lay brothers' range.

Martin was at the stables, waving his arms around at one of the bearded lay brothers, a burly fellow Edwin had seen before … ah yes, he was the one who had delivered that message to Prior Henry while Edwin had been observing the
lectio divina
. The man was standing in silence with his head bowed, making no effort to reply to Martin.

Edwin attracted Martin's attention and he stalked over. ‘These lay brothers are from the peasantry, and I'm just not sure they know how to look after fine horses properly.'

‘Why? What's wrong with ours?'

‘Well, nothing.' Edwin looked at him and raised his eyebrows. Martin was virtually spluttering and he continued, much more voluble than Edwin had ever seen him. ‘But they're much better quality than the mules and suchlike that they keep here normally. And that fellow just won't talk to me when I ask him in detail about their feed. Yesterday I was just starting to think that he … but anyway, I've told him that the abbot said they were all allowed to speak with us, but he just stands there. I think he must be simple.'

Edwin had no idea what Martin was talking about. ‘If there's nothing wrong with the horses, they must be doing something right. Anyway, I have news.'

‘News that can get us out of here all the sooner, I hope.'

Ah. So that was it. Edwin actually felt quite comfortable within the enclosing walls of the abbey, but he had the feeling it was driving Martin mad. He kept his tone mild. ‘Maybe not completely out, not today, but we do need to go out to the lay brothers' range which you visited the other day. I want to talk to the lay brother – Sinnulph, was it? – that you spoke to.' He saw Martin making a move towards the stables. ‘I suppose it's too far to walk?'

Martin looked at him as though he'd just suggested flying. ‘Walk? When we have horses? Don't be ridiculous. I'll saddle them up now.' Looking a bit happier, he hurried off into the stables.

Edwin sighed. He supposed he was going to have to get used to riding on horseback, if he was going to continue in the earl's service. Or maybe he wouldn't need to, if he stayed here. But that would mean facing down the lord earl, looking him in the eye and asking to be released from his service, only weeks after being formally accepted as his man. Edwin winced at the thought. And anyway, didn't he owe duty to the earl above and beyond that? The earl, who trusted him, who had raised him up? Edwin expelled a long breath. It looked impossible whichever way he looked at it.

Martin led the horses out of the gatehouse and Edwin heaved himself up on to the back of the one he'd ridden from Conisbrough. Would he ever be comfortable in the saddle? ‘How far is it?'

‘About four miles. Won't take long. Come on!' And Martin was off.

Four miles might not seem long to Martin, but Edwin was quite glad to get down off the horse and hand the reins to a waiting lay brother once they arrived at the grange. Martin, as ever, swung down easily and looked no worse for wear, and Edwin was momentarily jealous.

A second bearded lay brother was approaching, and he greeted Martin. ‘
Benedicte
. And this must be your companion?'

Martin shoved Edwin forward. ‘Yes, this is Edwin. I told him about my trip here the other day, and he said he'd like to come out and see for himself, to meet you. Edwin, this is Brother Sinnulph.'

‘To meet me?' The brother sounded surprised, but Edwin detected a hint of fear underneath. Had he been expecting someone to come here and question him?

Edwin didn't want to make him hostile before he'd even started. ‘Not just you, Brother, although I hear you gave Martin something of a lesson on wool production which I'd like to hear about. No, I'd like to talk to all of you, particularly about anything you might remember about Brother Alexander, anything he might have said or done in the last few weeks which you didn't think was important, but which might help me if I were to hear it.'

Brother Sinnulph relaxed a little, and Edwin tried to keep his voice innocent. ‘I'd also like to talk to the choir monk who comes here to do your accounts. Is he here? Brother … I'm sorry, I don't even know his name, but Martin met him here before.'

‘That would be Brother Eugenius. He doesn't work here all the time, he just comes out two afternoons a week because it's part of his other duties. He'll be here about mid-afternoon today, if you can stay that long.'

Was he trying to get rid of them? Edwin exchanged a glance with Martin. ‘That will be fine. Perhaps I could speak with you and then the other brothers one at a time while we wait for him?' It was heading for noon, so they could surely kill some time.

‘Of course. Please, come this way.' Brother Sinnulph led them into a building where there were two long tables with benches down each side, and bade them sit. He fetched them some ale. ‘We only eat twice a day, so there is no meal prepared, but I could find you something if …?'

‘Thank you, we have already …' Edwin looked at Martin. ‘Why yes, anything you might be able to provide would be most welcome. Some bread, perhaps?' Martin looked unenthusiastic, but what did he expect them to come up with?

Brother Sinnulph gestured to another brother and then took a seat on the opposite side of the table. ‘Well then, let us begin. You wish to talk of Brother Alexander?'

Edwin started with a few general questions, to try and put him at his ease – how many days a week did the master of the lay brothers visit, what were his duties, and so on. He was aware that Sinnulph had already told all this to Martin, and from what Edwin could gather he gave no answers now that differed from what he had said before. A plate of bread arrived with some hard cheese and a couple of onions. Martin rolled his eyes but nevertheless tucked in while Edwin crumbled some bread and ate a little out of politeness.

He turned the conversation to more personal matters. ‘So, are you a local man yourself?'

Brother Sinnulph nodded. ‘Born and bred on the Maltby manor here. And you must be local yourself, from your voice?'

‘Yes, I'm from Conisbrough. My father was the bailiff there for many years.'

The lay brother's face creased into a smile. ‘You're never Godric's son? Godric that they called the Weaver?'

Surprised, Edwin put down the bread he had been toying with. ‘Yes, yes I am. Did you know my father?'

‘Aye, and a fine man he was too. Sorry, lad, I should have said right off that I was sorry to hear that he was dead. He was a good man, and all knew it.'

‘Thank you.' Edwin was surprised to find out that he did not feel overwhelmed at the mention of Father's death. Sad, yes, but he didn't want to run away and cry. He could continue in an even tone of voice. ‘Of course, if you're from Maltby you might have seen him when he went out there every quarter.'

‘That's right. And a fair man he was too. Courteous to all, even villeins like my father, listened to all, spoke the truth, never took more than he was due. Like I said, a fine man. There aren't many of them around. Well, well, Godric's son, here and all grown up.'

Edwin began to feel more at his ease. ‘So, your father was a villein on Lord Richard's estate here at Maltby? How did you come to join the Order?'

‘Ah, too many brothers, that was my problem. Or it was back then, anyway.' A shadow crossed his face but it was gone before Edwin could interpret it. ‘That was all right when it came to giving service on the lord's land, for we could share it about, but our own holding wasn't enough to support us all. My eldest brother married and had children of his own, but there was no chance for the rest of us, so I thought, if I'm not going to marry and have a family anyway, why not try for a lay brother? The work is pretty much the same and you get a good meal every day – two in the summer – not to mention getting closer to God. Even such as I might go to heaven if I work hard enough.'

Martin pushed away the empty plate and leaned forward. ‘So all the lay brothers come from the local peasantry, do they?'

‘Most of them, yes. Like I said, the work isn't too different and we get fed regardless of what the harvest is like. In return we take vows, the same as the choir monks, so we're part of the abbey and not allowed to marry or have children.'

Martin nodded, and Edwin wondered what he was driving at.

‘So, most of them are local and would know their way around?'

Oh well done, thought Edwin, he's seeing if anyone might know about the cave.

‘Yes, I suppose so, from when they were running around as lads. Although even as lads we all had plenty of work to do.'

Martin's next question was forestalled as Brother Sinnulph continued in a thoughtful tone.

‘Of course, that's not quite true. Most come from the peasantry, but not all. Take Brother Guy.'

Edwin was confused. ‘Brother Guy?'

‘A lay brother at the abbey. Great burly fellow, bigger beard than most. Works a lot with the horses.'

‘Oh yes. I saw him and you've spoken to him a few times, haven't you, Martin? Was that him you were talking to when I arrived at the stables this morning?' Edwin wondered why Martin had started to look uneasy.

‘Yes, yes I have. What about him?'

‘Well, before he joined the Order he was a knight, quite a famous one if the tales are true. He travelled to the Holy Land a long time ago with old King Richard's crusade, and then again to Constantinople about fifteen years ago. He was a great warrior.'

Martin looked like he was going to be sick. ‘Really?'

Brother Sinnulph was getting into his storytelling. ‘Oh yes. He was a lord, a man of renown. Of course, some men do come back from such campaigns and then wish to take the cowl. But they mainly become choir monks – more suited to their rank, you see. Brother Guy, now, I remember the day he arrived. He begged entry, but he had a great many sins on his conscience so he wished to demonstrate his humility before the Lord by becoming a lay brother.'

‘He did?'

‘Of course my lord abbot – Abbot Osmund it was then – tried to talk him out of it. But he was determined. And from that day to this he has never once spoken of his past, never shirked the heaviest or foulest duties. Most of the lay brothers take advantage of working in the fields or the granges to talk to each other, but not Brother Guy – he took a vow of complete silence and he sticks to it. He has never said what his sins were, but surely he's atoned for them by now.'

Edwin looked at Martin and felt he had to take back charge of the situation. He opened his mouth.

Sinnulph hadn't finished. ‘He never speaks of his past life – well, he couldn't, could he – but sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder what stories he must have, what tales of kings and popes, battles and deeds, of the treasures of the East. He could probably tell stories every night for a month if he wanted to.'

Now
that
started Edwin's mind off a new and different path. ‘Treasure? What sort of treasure?'

The lay brother shrugged. ‘I don't know. Nothing particular. I just heard there was lots of treasure out in the East. I heard tell that the crusaders came back with some wonderful things. Gold and jewels and silk and suchlike.'

Edwin sat in silence. Martin still looked dumbstruck and also said nothing.

Brother Sinnulph looked from one to the other. ‘So … if you've finished talking to me, I'll get back to my work, shall I? And send one of the other brothers to talk to you?'

Edwin recovered himself. ‘Yes, thank you. That would be kind.'

He spent an hour or so talking to the other brothers but gained little of interest. Martin sat in stony silence throughout and Edwin wondered what in the Lord's name could be wrong with him. Eventually he sent the final lay brother out and leaned over to whisper. ‘It must be nearly time for Brother Eugenius to arrive. Can you go out and wait for him? I don't want Brother Sinnulph to get the chance to talk to him first.'