Brother Hermitage's Christmas Gift by Howard of Warwick

Author:Howard of Warwick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: comedy, humor, christmas, medieval, cozy, historical fic, brother hermitage, howard of warwick
Publisher: Howard of Warwick

Caput VI

Peterburh to Godmuncestre

The disconcerting hospitality of Abbot Wig’s monastery continued as they entered the main building and were led through corridors and cloisters. Passing monks smiled greetings and nodded their welcomes. Several addressed Wig directly, bidding him good day and good health. Everyone looked content and above all, well fed. Hermitage found himself wondering if the place had any vacancies.

Eventually, after following the abbot for some distance and being delayed by several idle but friendly conversations, they arrived in Wig’s study. Hermitage’s experiences of the abbot’s study at De’Ath’s Dingle still disturbed him in the dark of the night. This place was a wonder. Lined with books and parchment and full of warmth and comfort, Hermitage wondered again if Wig really was an abbot and had not simply taken the place over for his own devices.

Another monk sat in the room, his head down over a collection of parchment.

‘Don’t mind Brother Eregus,’ the abbot said. ‘He has been studying those parchments for at least three years and probably has another three to go.’

Hermitage could only look on and dream.

Abbot Wig bade them all sit in comfortable chairs gathered around a large fireplace, crackling and purring with bright logs. He poured small goblets of wine for them all.

‘You are most kind,’ Hermitage found his voice. ‘Kinder than any I have ever met.’

Wig nodded to his wine. ‘To my mind, too many places practise hardship and misery as if it were their craft. The word of the Lord tells us to welcome the stranger and give until we can give no more.’

‘Amen.’ Wat quaffed his wine.

Wig smile broadly. ‘It is clear that you are no inhabitant of De’Ath’s Dingle. Nor a monk of any description.’

‘Wat has been helping me for some time now,’ Hermitage spoke up before Wat could get any explanation in. ‘The death of Ambrosius was a trial he virtually carried me through. And he remained, worried, I think, that harm would befall if he left.’

‘He could be right,’ Wig observed.

‘In fact, he is a weaver.’ Hermitage thought he heard Wat draw his breath at this.

‘A weaver, eh?’ Wig’s smile didn’t falter. ‘A weaver called Wat. Wat a weaver. Perhaps Wat the Weaver?’

Wat shrugged so deeply it looked as if he was trying to hide behind his own shoulders.

‘He does seem renowned,’ Hermitage acknowledged.

‘He certainly is.’

‘Ah, you know of him then. The rest of the world is ahead of me, as usual. I have been with him for many weeks now and never even seen so much as a thread of his work.’

Wig let out a slight cough. ‘Then I shall leave that, erm, experience for another time.’

‘You have a tapestry of Wat’s?’

‘Good Lord, no.’ Wig seemed shocked at the idea.

‘It’s just a trade,’ Wat muttered.

‘It is not for me to judge,’ Wig said. ‘Not here and now, anyway. You are travellers who seek our hospitality, and that is given to all.’ Wig stood and rang a small bell sat on the mantel above the fire.

After a few moments the door opened, and another smiling monk entered.

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