The Monastery Murders by E. M. Powell

Author:E. M. Powell [Powell, E. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503903241
Google: DaldtgEACAAJ
Publisher: Amazon Publishing
Published: 2018-05-15T07:00:00+00:00

Stanton had been expecting the lay brothers’ domain to be almost identical to that of the monks. Some of it certainly was.

Their dormitory on the first floor above the store room was the same size, but there the similarity ended. Even though it didn’t have the sacrist’s chamber, it was much more crowded, with the lay brothers’ mattresses pushed in closer to each other. Instead of a covering of warm wool, each one had a worn-looking hide. The rough sacking that doubled as pillows may have held some personal items. There were no individual chests to store the brothers’ belongings. A few larger ones were dotted about.

At Stanton’s request, he and Osmund had come up to the dormitory via the lay brothers’ night stairs. The stairs led up from the church, but from the nave in the west rather than the choir in the east. As the lay brothers prayed separately, they slept separately. A monastery within a monastery, if you will: Abbot Philip’s words as he had guided him and Barling around on the first morning. Now he saw what that meant. A lesser house.

‘Were all the lay brothers asleep in here on the night of Cuthbert’s murder?’ asked Stanton.

‘Yes,’ replied Osmund. ‘I had to rouse them from sleep as I had been, for there had been no bell. Their door was also locked.’

But Daniel said he’d slept in the stables that night. ‘All of them? Are you sure?’ He might have caught Daniel in a lie.

‘Let me think.’ Osmund chewed his lip again. ‘Yes. No. No, not all. Daniel slept in the stables, looking after one of the animals. He sought my permission first. I’m sorry, it slipped my mind.’

‘No need for apologies, brother.’ Saints alive, the man was a ditherer. ‘Should we move on?’

The day room below told the same story of a separate life. No grand Chapter House. No special refectory in which to eat.

‘The lay brothers don’t need as much space as the monks, as they’re out working most of the time,’ said Osmund. ‘So everything happens in this one room.’

A room which held marked, chipped tables and worn-looking stools and little else, save a huge cross hanging from one wall.

Osmund went on. ‘I hold the chapter meetings here but only once a week. It’s where I lead them in prayer and then hear about and punish any breaking of the sacred Rule. It gets broken often, believe me.’

A room where Daniel, exhausted from his work, like all the others, could be made to sit on the cold floor and eat his dinner, day after day. For a reason like reading a book.

Stanton couldn’t reply to Osmund and trust himself to be polite. Instead, he merely nodded and asked to move on.

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