“We may eat now,” he says simply and takes a bite of his bread. I don’t answer but resume eating. The food is well cooked and delicious, and before long I’m devouring it again.
“Has it been a while since you last ate?” he asks between mouthfuls, no doubt taking in how rapidly I’m eating.
“This morning.” I remember the thin porridge I had at the inn just inside the city walls at Oxford before I set off. The meal I had there last night wasn’t as good as this either and cost me a pretty sum. I stop my hand as it’s halfway to another chicken leg, not wanting to appear gluttonous.
“Please, take what you need,” he encourages. “Like I said, we feed all those who need it.”
Even if they’re your enemy. I reflect bitterly on the words left unsaid. But still, I reach for the chicken again and eat it in defiance, though he quirks his mouth and again I’m left feeling like he has the upperhand.
“So, Emmett de Selcey, tell me about your family.”
I shrug, there’s not a lot to tell.
“My father died when I was young,” I start. “My mother remarried my uncle, Lord Fortesque and now I have two brothers.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. That must be hard for you,” he says softly.
“Being the eldest and knowing I’ll inherit nothing?” I blurt out. I hadn’t meant to give away what eats me inside. My father may not have been as rich or important as my uncle, but he was a knight and he had been promised some land. Unfortunately he had died before it was granted. My mother, a beautiful woman, was left penniless, and I could never blame her for taking the offer from my uncle. She has borne him two heirs, whereas I’m just an inconvenience he doesn’t know what to do with.
“It can’t be all bad, you are a commissioner for Cromwell, acting on behalf of the king,” he says. “That’s an important role.”
“Yes,” I reply brusquely. It would seem so to him, but it’s not the truth. I was sent because my uncle has been promised the land this abbey stands on and this is my chance to prove myself. If I can do this, then I’m more likely to be offered a more permanent and prominent position, or so it’s been intimated. A chance to make a name for myself. Which is why I cannot fail.
A bell rings again and the abbot rises.
“Please excuse me, I must attend Compline.”
“More prayers?”
“We pray seven times a day.”
“Every day?” My eyebrows shoot up. I attend mass on Sunday—well, most Sundays if I’m not doing something more interesting like hawking or hunting—but I could not imagine having to pray seven times a day.
“I can see you’re unfamiliar with monastic life. I’ll show you tomorrow. Abel will come and take you to your room.”
“You will of course be praying for the king now he’s the ruler of the Church,” I call out as he reaches the door, desperate to have the last word and to remind him why I’m here. He turns and looks back at me. He doesn’t speak, he just gives me his serene smile and bows his head. I get a flash of his bald pate above the ridiculous ring of hair that monks have.
As the door closes behind him, I again get the feeling I’ve been dismissed. The food I’ve eaten turns to ashes in my stomach. Abel comes in within a few minutes and I get up to follow him. He leads me down a corridor. There’s a door either side and one at the end.
“You’re in here, sir.” He opens the right-hand door. “There is the latrine.” He points to the door at the end, then he leaves me abruptly and I enter the room. There’s a pallet bed topped with a woollen blanket that looks surprisingly comfortable. My saddlebags are laid upon it, which is a relief that I don’t have to find old sour face and ask where they are. There are also two chests and a small bench. A cross hangs on the wall.
I pay a visit to the latrine and then take off my outer coat before slipping into bed. Despite being tired from my journey I cannot sleep, and I lie awake tossing and turning. I wonder if the door opposite is the abbot’s bedchamber, but I hear no sounds of anyone entering. Eventually I hear the blasted prayer bells again, though it surely must be the middle of the night. Only after they’ve died down and are silent again do I manage to fall into a fitful sleep.
CHAPTER 3
THEOBALD
Istay kneeling, my head bowed as I recite the Lord’s Prayer, letting the brothers file out to make use of the few minutes they have before bedtime. I can feel Brother Kennard’s eyes boring into me but I ignore him. It will be the same look he gave me as I arrived to lead the prayers. Obviously thinking I’d be busy with the visitor, he had already assumed the lectern. His scowl when I moved to take over was deep and dark. But I wanted to send him a clear message of what happens when he tries to manipulate me. It’s almost stooping to his petty level, but there’s another reason why I wanted to be at prayers tonight, and it’s what keeps me on my knees and whispering the Lord’s Prayer over and over hoping to drown out the visions. So far it’s not working.
The boy can’t help it. But across the table at supper, when he looked up at me from under his lashes, I was transported back nearly thirty years. Another pair of blue eyes I haven’t thought about in a long time. It was the same look Henry used to give me as he knelt before me. Then he’d give me an impish smile beforehe pulled down my hose and devoured me. We frequently met where we could, in the stables, in closets when we had to attend balls. I even fucked him against a tree when we were hawking one summer. I don’t know if it was love, I certainly didn’t want to define it and I know Henry didn’t. We didn’t speak of it much. In public we were cordial to each other, we could pass as mere acquaintances, but in private we knew a carnal pleasure few get to experience. We’d had no plans, no ideas of a future except to enjoy each other. We were both second sons of noblemen, not required to follow in our fathers’ footsteps; we had a certain amount of freedom. We gave no thought to what would happen if anyone found out either, but they did eventually. Perhaps a stable boy tattled on us, I don’t recall those details. I just remember being hauled in front of Henry’s father while my own was summoned. We both received a beating, publically, in front of the whole of Henry’s household. Both of us were forced to kneel, exposing our bare backsides as we were thrashed with birch twigs. The last vision I had of Henry’s beautiful eyes was of them brimming with tears as he looked at me as we knelt in the dust.
I never saw him again after that. He was forced to marry his cousin, an older and rather spiteful woman from what I remember.
My father was more lenient with my fate. I could be married or I could choose to come here. I had no interest in married life and so chose this path instead. I found that life in the monastery suited me rather well. The routine that had been lacking in my life was calming. As a novice there were opportunities for liaisons with the other brothers if you were careful, even with senior brothers patrolling the dormitories at night. But I found as I applied myself more to prayers and my duties, those urgesdiminished, and I’ve kept my vow of chastity along with the other virtues I hold sacred ever since I became fully ordained.
But seeing Emmett has brought back memories and a stirring of something long forgotten. I rise, my knees creaking as they do more and more these days. I should remember to apply the salve Brother Matthew made for me. The prayers aren’t helping so maybe paperwork will.
Not long after I enter my office, Abel appears with a mug of warm mead and extra honey. My usual evening drink. I plan to work for several hours, and there’s a bench in my office where I can nap if I want to before Matins, after which I’ll usually go to my bed.
