The Wolves of Savernake (Domesday Series Book 1) by Edward Marston

Author:Edward Marston [Marston, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2010-11-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

BROTHER PETER BORE HIS TRIBULATIONS WITH NOBLE EQUANIMITY. THE PUNISHMENT he suffered would have disabled most of the monks for days and introduced at least a hint of bitterness into their relationship with Brother Thaddeus. Peter rose above the common experience and astonished the whole house by appearing at Matins next morning to take his appointed place. He was evidently in considerable pain and moved with some difficulty, but the face that was bowed humbly before God contained neither reproach nor suffering but shone with its usual blithe religiosity. When the sacristan picked his way gingerly across the cloister garth after Prime, he was even able to acknowledge the cheerful greeting of Brother Thaddeus. Not a breath of personal animosity stirred. The happy ploughman was but an instrument of harsh discipline and therefore not to blame. Peter even found a moment to ask kindly after the oxen in the field. Like him, they had felt the wounding power of Brother Thaddeus’s strong arm.

It was after Terce when Brother Luke at last found him.

“How are you, Brother Peter?”

“I survive.”

“Reports had you half-dead.”

“Brother Thaddeus would have cut me in two if Abbot Serlo had not curtailed my beating.” He gave a weary smile. “It is all over now. I will not dwell on it.”

Luke studied him with almost-ghoulish fascination. They were in Peter’s workshop and the brazier was still glowing quietly in the corner. The novice could not understand how his friend could so soon and so readily return to his holy labours after such a terrible ordeal. Peter’s stoic attitude was quite inspiring.

“Does it not hurt?” murmured Luke.

“Like the Devil!”

“Then should you not rest?”

“I have done so already.”

“Wounds need time to heal.”

“They may heal just as well if I stand on my feet,” said Peter bravely. “Brother Infirmarian has been extremely kind to me. He has washed my body clean and applied ointments as a salve. His tender ministrations have softened the pain, if they have not relieved the stiffness.”

Luke was aghast. “Are you not angry?”

“With whom?”

“With anyone or anything that can do this to you. With Abbot Serlo or with Brother Thaddeus. With the strictures of the Benedictine rule. With the brother who informed on you in the first place.” Luke bristled. “I would be enraged.”

“My only anger is reserved for myself.”

“Yourself?”

“I transgressed, Luke. I paid the penalty.”

“You are truly sainted.”

“We all have our cross to bear,” said Peter as he took the silver cross from its drawer and held it up. “This is mine and I was crucified for spending too much time on it.”

“The abbey does not deserve such a wondrous gift.”

“It does, Luke. Do not be blinded by friendship to me from seeing duty to the order. I am but one obedientiary who went astray and have been whipped back into line. I accept that without complaint. Do you likewise.”

Brother Luke made the effort to do so, but it was way beyond his competence. His eye kept roving over Peter’s cowl and he eventually asked the question which had brought him there.

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