“It is like Stonehenge!” he said.
“Yes,” agreed Ralph with a grin. “This must be Eadmer’s home. It is a Stonehenge for dwarves.”
“See there!” said Gervase, pointing. “That stone has not yet been dressed. It has only just been put into position. What we saw on Salisbury Plain was a dead place, but this is alive. Can you not feel the presence of worship?”
“No, Gervase.”
“I sense it very strongly.”
“All I see is a random collection of stones.”
“Look for the pattern. Follow the scheme.” Gervase moved to the largest stone and bent to try its weight. “I cannot even budge it. What strength must have been needed to bring it to its resting place?”
Ralph Delchard could not resist a physical challenge.
“Leave it to me,” he said, sheathing his sword.
He crouched down to get a firm hold on the sandstone before jiggling it to and fro to loosen it from the earth. Then he gathered all his energy and put it into one mighty heave that saw him lift the object right up from the ground. It was an appreciable feat of strength, but Gervase was not allowed to admire it for long. No sooner did Ralph strain to stand upright than there was a roar of protest from the undergrowth and a startling figure came bursting out to confront them.
It was short, stocky, and quivering with rage. There was so much hair and so much fur, both heavily clotted with filth, that it was impossible to tell whether the creature was human, animal, or some outlandish compound of the two.
It roared with anger again and bared pointed black teeth at the intruders. Ralph Delchard dropped the sandstone at once and grabbed his sword. Gervase reached for his dagger. Before either of them could strike, however, the newcomer let out a dark babble of noise, then vanished into the trees. They went after it, but they had no chance of catching it in such a warren of trees. Both were breathless when they abandoned the chase and leaned against an outcrop of chalk for support.
“I was right,” said Ralph proudly. “That lame animal was no more than sport for Hugh de Brionne and his men. The real killer lives here in this place. We have just been face-to-face with the wolf of Savernake.”
Ralph Delchard spoke as a soldier who had just been roused to combat. When an enemy appeared, his only thought had been to reach for his weapon and attack. Gervase Bret had listened as well as seen.
The creature’s loud gabble had just been a howl of anger to his friend, but he had caught something of its meaning.
“That was no wolf, Ralph,” he said confidently.
“You saw the creature stand right in front of me. Wolf or bear or whatever it was- that was the killer we seek.”
“I think not.”
“We had to fight the monster off!”
Gervase shook his head. “It was a man.”
“You heard its roar; you marked those teeth. I’ll wager a month’s pay that that was no human being. It was some freak of nature who haunts the forest like a foul ghost.”
“No animal would build a circle of stones.”
“He howled with fury when we invaded his lair.”
“He was only defending his temple,” explained Gervase. “And he did not attack us. He merely sought to frighten us away with that noise. It may have sounded like the cry of an animal to you, but I could pick out words from it. He is a man, Ralph, of that there is no question. He spoke in Welsh.”
Chapter Ten
Brother Luke’s tribulations did not become any easier to bear with the passage of time. Indeed, the closer he came to the end of his novitiate, the worse was his anguish of body and soul. It made him careless and unreliable in his devotions, so the wrath of the master of the novices was visited upon him with greater severity. Luke smarted with indignation and took the earliest opportunity to seek out his one haven of rest in the abbey. Brother Peter, as ever, was bent over the table in his workshop as he put the final touches to his silver crucifix. He gave his own young friend a cordial welcome, waved him to a stool, then sat opposite him. Though Luke was caught up in his agonising, he did notice that the sacristan was still moving stiffly and with barely concealed pain.
“How are your wounds?” he asked solicitously.
“I see them as marks of favour, Luke.”
“Do they not hurt?”
“Only to remind me of their presence.”
“Brother Thaddeus might have crippled you.”
“The abbot knew when to stay his strong arm,” said Peter easily.
“But enough of my condition. That is old news. Tell me about Brother Luke and how he fares.”
“Very ill.”
“How do you sleep?”
“Fitfully.”
“How do you study?”
“Unevenly.”
“How do you pray?” The youth bit his lip and Peter leaned in to repeat the question. “How do you pray?”
“Without conviction.”
“These are indeed sad tidings. Tell me all.”
Luke poured out his troubles yet again and spoke of fresh anxieties that had attached themselves to his ever-growing burden of doubt. He talked freely and without shame to Brother Peter. Nothing could shock his friend. Thoughts which had no place inside a man’s head at any time-let alone when he was living an exemplary life within the enclave-were now put into words. He bared his soul, then tried to lessen the impact of his drift away from the demands of the order by quoting from St. Augustine.
“‘ Da mihi castitatem et continentiam, sed noli modo.’”
Peter smiled as he translated. “‘Give me chastity and continency, but not yet!’ Yes, my friend, St. Augustine had to wrestle mightily with the sins of the flesh. But he chose the true course in the end.
Lay another of his edicts to your heart: ‘ Salus extra ecclesiam non est. ’
There is no salvation outside the Church.’”
“Salvation may wait. I seek experience of life.”
“Even if it corrupts you entirely?”
“That is my dilemma.”
“I was led astray and found my redemption within these four walls.
You may not be so fortunate, Luke. Leave now and you may never be readmitted. Stay with us and you need fear none of the evils of the outside world.”
The novice rubbed sweaty palms together and looked up.
“Can love be called an evil, Brother Peter?”
“In itself, no,” said the other, “but it may lead on to evil-doing. Love diseases the heart and unbalances the mind. It makes people do terrible things in its name.”
“But I wish to know love,” insisted the youth.
“Then find it within the order. Love of God transcends all other earthly passions and brings rewards that are truly everlasting. Look inwards, Luke. Seek for love there.”
“I have done so, Peter, but my thoughts still wander.”
“School yourself more strictly.”
“I may not. He is inside my head all the while.”
“He?” echoed the sacristan. “Do you mean God?”
“No. Gervase Bret.”
Sudden anger surfaced. “You should never have listened to him!”
“I was only listening to myself,” owned Luke. “What I have imagined, he has had the courage to reach out and take. Gervase Bret is betrothed to a lady called-”
“We have heard enough of this young man,” said Peter sharply. “I am trying to fit your mind to life inside the abbey and he is trying to tempt you away. Remember the Garden of Eden, my dear friend. You are sitting in it right at this moment. Listen to that serpent-take the apple from his Tree of Knowledge-and you will be cast out.”