‘Yes, Elaf. I can and did. Kenelm looks harrowed.’
‘He will not survive much longer.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He has talked of putting an end to it.’
‘How?’ asked Frewine with sudden alarm. ‘He is surely not contemplating suicide? That would be an unforgivable sin.’
‘Kenelm feels that he has already committed an unforgivable sin.’
‘And he plans to take his own life?’
‘No, Brother Frewine. His thoughts do not tend that way.’
‘Thank the Lord!’
‘He knows the penalty for such an act.’
‘To lie forever in unconsecrated ground,’ warned the other. ‘To be turned away from the kingdom of heaven. Nobody should pay such a hideous price. In a young boy, it would be doubly tragic.’
‘Kenelm realises that.’
‘So whence comes this talk of ending it?’
Elaf gave a shrug and tussled with his conscience. Kenelm was his friend and he did not wish to betray a confidence. At the same time, he did not want to lose the one person who made his own life at the abbey more bearable. Seeing his dilemma, the Precentor tried to help him out of it. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
‘You were right to come to me, Elaf,’ he said. ‘Whatever you tell me will go no further. I have helped you both in the past and, I like to think, pulled the pair of you out from beneath Brother Paul’s avenging arm more than once. Let me help you again.’
‘I’m not sure that you can.’
‘Simply talking to me will bring its own reward for it will ease your mind. Unburden yourself of the load you carry.’
‘It’s such a heavy load,’ confessed the novice. ‘I have remorse of my own, Brother Frewine, as you can imagine. During the funeral yesterday, I thought that I would faint. But Kenelm suffers something far worse than remorse. It pursues him every hour of the day.’
‘So what does he intend to do about it?’
‘Leave the abbey.’
‘Abandon his novitiate?’
‘Yes, Brother Frewine.’
‘But that would be such a waste.’
‘So I told him.’
‘His parents would never condone it.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why does he indulge in such futile talk?’
‘If only it were futile!’
‘Kenelm would not disobey his parents.’
‘I fear that he may, Brother Frewine.’
The old man’s face was at its most owlish. ‘What are you telling me, Elaf?’ he said in alarm. ‘Kenelm is planning to run away?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘That would be a scandal.’
‘I told him that.’
‘A scandal for the abbey and a bitter blow for his dear parents.
Nobody ever flees from here. It is unheard of, Elaf.’
‘What about Siward?’
Frewine was checked. ‘That was different,’ he muttered.
‘He disappeared one day. So did Dena. Those were the names that Kenelm cited. He said he’d follow their example.’
‘I pray to God that he doesn’t do that!’
‘Why? What happened to them?’
‘If only we knew!’
‘What drove them to quit the abbey in the first place?’
‘We are not even sure if that is what they did, Elaf.’
‘But they vanished.’
‘Sadly, they did.’
‘So they must have run away because they hated it here.’
‘Dena did not hate it,’ said the Precentor. ‘He had a beautiful voice and loved singing. Dena was always the first to come to choir practice and the last to leave. He liked it here. It was his natural home.’
‘Then why did he want to escape?’
‘I have no idea, Elaf. Nor do his parents. It is baffling. And Siward’s disappearance was equally mysterious. He was more wayward, perhaps, more accustomed to feel the wrath of Brother Paul, but that would not have been enough to drive him away.’
The boy was apprehensive. His heart was starting to pound.
‘I am not sure what you are telling me,’ he said slowly.
‘We do not know if Siward or Dena fled the abbey.’
‘How else did they vanish?’
Brother Frewine winced. ‘They may have been taken.’
Abraham the Priest was a revelation. On the face of it, he had by far the weakest claim, and yet he advanced it most convincingly.
He needed no bullying manner like Strang the Dane and no beautiful wife like Hamelin of Lisieux. Nor did he trade on the unvarnished directness of Querengar the Breton. Advocacy was his weapon. Arguments were cleverly arranged before being presented in a lilting voice which seemed to lull his hearers into agreement. Resolved to dislike him, Ralph slowly warmed to the archdeacon. When the latter strayed briefly into the realms of canon law, he was challenged immediately by Hubert but he held his ground with equanimity and beat off the attack. Even Gervase’s probing questions could not find a chink. Abraham was confounding them all.
‘Let us end there,’ announced Ralph, slapping the table, ‘before we become entirely bemused. Thank you, Archdeacon. I am sorry to give you such a sour welcome. I had no idea that your delay was caused by your compassion for a young mother. If your skill in midwifery matches your ability in a courtroom, the lady was indeed fortunate.’
‘She came bravely through the ordeal.’
‘Do not put us through it again!’ implored Simon.
‘There is no time,’ said Ralph. ‘We have spent the whole morning listening to you. If nothing else, I hope that absolves me of the charge of prejudice. What we now need is a recess so that we may study your charter alongside the others in our possession.
We also need to weigh your arguments in the balance and decide if there is need for any further examination.’
‘I will await your summons, my lord,’ said Abraham.
‘Keep well away from pregnant women in the meantime.’
‘This is not my diocese.’
‘One last thing,’ said Ralph as the two men rose to go. ‘I expected to speak to you through an interpreter. How is it that you know our language so well?’
‘I took the trouble to learn it, my lord.’
‘Patently. But why?’
‘It is very useful to speak in the tongue of our neighbours. In my experience, it is the best way to avoid misunderstandings.
Also, my lord, simple necessity came into play.’ He gave a tolerant smile. ‘I learned your language because I had a strong feeling that you would never deign to learn mine. Am I right?’
‘Absolutely.’
They parted on good terms and the two visitors left the room.
Ralph turned first to Canon Hubert and invited his comment with a raised eyebrow. The latter needed a moment to gather his thoughts.
‘Our archdeacon has a beguiling tongue,’ he said at length,
‘but I was not entirely persuaded by it.’
‘What about you, Gervase?’ asked Ralph.
‘I found his arguments very cogent.’
‘More so than those of the other claimants?’
‘Yes,’ said Gervase, ‘but he did not resolve the basic contradiction. All four of them have shown us royal charters relating to land in the Westbury Hundred. The problem is that they may not all refer to the hides in question. All the charters lack definition. As things stand, we could do no worse than to quarter the whole property and parcel it out between them.’
‘That is a mischievous suggestion,’ said Hubert.
‘Then let me offer a better one. Why not see for ourselves?’
‘I do not follow, Gervase.’
‘It is simple, Canon Hubert. Let us suspend our work here and ride out to the Westbury Hundred. We may well find that the twenty hides claimed by the lord Hamelin are quite separate from the eight to which Strang would seem to have the right. And where do Querengar’s lie?’
‘In the control of Hamelin of Lisieux,’ said Ralph.
‘And his wife,’ added Hubert pointedly.
‘And, as you remind us, his charming wife.’
‘I was less charmed and more critical of him, my lord.’
‘Be that as it may, Hubert, I think that Gervase has a point.
There is confusion here. The only way to plumb the depth of this controversy is to visit the disputed property in person.’