The Imp of Eye by Kristin Gleeson

Author:Kristin Gleeson [Gleeson, KRistin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: An Tig Beag Press

The sound of the deep brass bell shatters the dark. It rips me from dreams of sunny places, dark-skinned men and birds wiv bright feathers. It sounds again, annoying as ever. I groan and burrow down, but I hit only a hard pallet, so I hugs the threadbare blanket tight round meself, squeezes me eyes shut and pretends I ain’t heard nofink.

What am I doing in this place? Every frost-bitten day I asks meself this same question. Every day before dawn I’m woken by this great, clanging monster. And every day I curses Father Thomas.

Me, a monk? It’s a laughable idea. But here I am, hidden away in the monastery at Westminster, under the watchful eye of Brother Richard, Master of the Novices. The oblates that I’m wiv, those monks in training, are mostly from noble families. But Father Thomas told ‘em to take me and so they did. Father Thomas says I’m safe here. Safe from any lot that might put him in danger if they nab me and make me confess, is what he means. He don’t fink what might happen to me if the monks find out I sees fings. So I has to be on me guard now, try and make sure that nofink happens. These monks will use any old excuse to say you’re possessed by the devil. Brother Richard already takes every chance to pinch me arm and twist me ear. So far, in the weeks that I’ve been stuck here, nofink’s happened. ‘Nothing,’ I says to correct my thoughts. It’s become a regular thing now, this correcting my speech all the time. And now I’m even doing it in me thoughts, that’s how bad it is.

I rises from the bed, reluctantly, shivering with the cold. No fires allowed here and only a mangy blanket to cover us in the night, so we wear our long robe as well.

As usual, the water in the bowl is ice, so I have to break it to wash my hands. Shivering with the cold, I stumble with the rest of them to the chapel for Matins, the first service of the day, though daylight ain’t for hours yet. Blind with sleep, I stands wiv me hood drawn low over me head, listening to the endless chanting, aware of me belly’s low growl. Me feet are numb and me fingers stiff as twigs. I’m nearly afraid to move, or open me eyes in case Limpin’ Sam comes out from behind the altar, or worse, Bethor pops up beside me, making a demand.

Later, in the Chapter House where they read from the Gospel, I sits still as a board, making my mind as empty as I can, but that just seems to make me thoughts busier than ever. I stares at Brother Richard’s beaky nose instead and imagine it as a mountain wiv someone climbing it. It seems to work and I sigh with relief when another morning has passed wiv no sign of any appearances or visions.

When the chapter meeting is over Brother Richard nabs me by the arm and pulls me towards Brother John.

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