friend,“ the old monk said when Thomas joined him, is in excellent hands. Brother Clement is a most skilled healer, but he and Brother Ramon don't agree about things, so I have to keep them apart. Ramon looks after the infir mary and Clement tends the lepers. Ramon is a proper physician, trained at Montpellier, so of course we have to defer to him, but he seems to have no remedies other than prayer and copious bleeding. He uses them for every ailment, while Brother Clement, I suspect, uses his own kind of magic. I should probably disap prove of that, but I am forced to say that if I was sick I would prefer Brother Clement to treat me.” He smiled at Thomas. My name is Planchard.'
The abbot?'
Indeed. And you are most welcome to our house. I am sorry I could not greet you yesterday. And Brother Clement tells me you were alarmed at being in the lazar house? There's no need. My experience is that the condition is not promoted by contact with others. I have been visiting the lepers for forty years and have yet to lose a finger, and Brother Clement lives and worships with them and he has never been touched by the disease.“ The abbot paused and made the sign of the cross and Thomas at first thought the old man was warding off the evil thought of catching leprosy, then he saw that Planchard was looking at something across the cloister. He followed the Abbot's gaze and saw a body being carried on a stretcher. It was obviously a corpse for the face was covered with a white cloth and there was a crucifix balanced on the chest which fell off after a few steps so that the monks had to stop and retrieve it. We had excitement here last night. Planchard said mildly. Excitement?”
You probably heard the bell? It was rung too late, I fear. Two men came to the monastery after dark. Our gate is never shut, so they had no trouble entering. They tied the gatekeeper hand and foot, then went to the infirmary. The Count of Berat was there. He was attended by his squire and three of his men-at-arms who had survived a horrid little fight in the next valley,“ the Abbot waved a hand towards the west, but if he knew or suspected that Thomas had been involved in that fight, he made no comment, and one of the men-at-arms was sleeping in the Count's chamber. He woke up when the killers came, and so he died and then the Count's throat was cut and the two killers ran for their lives.” The old abbot recounted these events in a flat voice, as though foul murders were commonplace in Saint Sevet's.
The Count of Berat?' Thomas asked.
A sad man. Planchard said. I quite liked him, but I fear he was one of God's fools. He was astonishingly learned, but possessed no sense. He was a hard master to his tenants, but good to the Church. I used to think he was trying to buy his way into heaven, but actually he was seeking a son and God never rewarded that desire. Poor man, poor man.“ Planchard stared as the dead Count was carried to the gatehouse, then smiled gently at Thomas. Some of my monks insisted you must be the murderer.” Me!' Thomas exclaimed.
I know it was not you. Planchard said. The real murderers were seen leaving. Galloping into the night.“ He shook his head. But the brothers can get very excited and, alas, our house has been much disturbed of late. Forgive me, I did not ask your name.” Thomas.'
A good name. Just Thomas?'
Thomas of Hookton.'
That sounds very English. Planchard said. And you are what? A soldier?'
An archer.'
Not a friar?“ Planchard asked in grave amusement. Thomas half smiled. You know about that?”
I know that an English archer called Thomas went to Castillon d'Arbizon dressed as a friar. I know he spoke good Latin. I know he took the castle, and I know that he then spread misery in the countryside. I know he caused many tears, Thomas, many tears. Folk who struggled all their lives to build something for their children saw it burned in minutes.'
Thomas did not know what to say. He stared at the grass. You must know more than that. he said after a while.
I know that you and your companion are excommunicated. Planchard said.
Then I should not be here. Thomas said, gesturing at the cloister. I was excluded from holy precincts,“ he added bitterly. You are here at my invitation,” Planchard said mildly, and if God disapproves of that invitation then it will not be long before he has a chance to demand an explanation from me.' Thomas looked at the abbot who endured his scrutiny patiently. There was something about Planchard, Thomas thought, that reminded him of his own father, though without the madness. But there was a saintliness and a wisdom and an authority in the old lined face and Thomas knew he liked this man. Liked him very much. He looked away. I was protecting Genevieve. he muttered, explaining away his excommunication.
The beghard?'
She's no beghard. Thomas said.
I would be surprised if she was. Planchard said, for I very much doubt if there are any beghards in these parts. Those heretics congregate in the north. What are they called? The Brethren of the Free Spirit. And what is it they believe? That everything comes from God, so everything is good! It's a beguiling idea, is it not? Except when they say everything they mean exactly that, every thing. Every sin, every deed, every theft.
Genevieve is no beghard. Thomas repeated the denial, though the firmness of his tone did not reflect any conviction. I'm sure she's a heretic. Planchard said mildly, but which of us is not? And yet. his mild tone vanished as his voice became stern,' she is also a murderer.
Which of us is not?' Thomas echoed.
Planchard grimaced. She killed Father Roubert.“ Who had tortured her. Thomas said. He drew up his sleeve and showed the abbot the burn scars on his arm. I too killed my torturer and he too was a Dominican.”
The abbot gazed up at the sky that was clouding over. Thomas's confession of murder did not seem to disturb him, indeed his next words even suggested he was ignoring it completely. I was reminded the other day. he said, of one of the psalms of David. Dominus reget me et nihil mihi deerit.'
In loco pascuae ibi conlocavit,' Thomas finished the quotation. I can see why they thought you were a friar. Planchard said,
amused. But the implication of the psalm, is it not, is that we are sheep and that God is our shepherd? Why else would He put us in a pasture and protect us with a staff? But what I have never fully understood is why the shepherd blames the sheep when they become ill.'
God blames us?'
Icannot speak for God,“ Planchard said, only for the Church. What did Christ say? Ego sum pastor bonus, bonus pastor animam suam dat pro ovibus.”“ He paid Thomas the compliment of not translating the words which meant: I am the good shepherd and the good shepherd gives his life for the sheep.” And the Church,“ Planchard went on, continues Christ's ministry, or it is supposed to, yet some churchmen are sadly enthusiastic about culling their flock.” And you are not?'
I am not,“ Planchard said firmly, but don't let that weakness in me persuade you that I approve of you. I do not approve of you, Thomas, and I do not approve of your woman, but nor can I approve of a Church that uses pain to bring the love of God to a sinful world. Evil begets evil, it spreads like a weed, but good works are tender shoots that need husbandry.” He thought for a while, then smiled at Thomas. But my duty is clear enough, is it not? I should give both of you to the Bishop of Berat and let his fire do God's work.'
And you,“ Thomas said bitterly, are a man who does his duty.” I am a man who tries, God help me, to be good. To be what Christ wanted us to be. Duty is sometimes imposed by others and we must always examine it to see if it helps us to be good. I do not approve of you, either of you, but nor do I see what good will come from burning you. So I will do my duty to my conscience which does not instruct me to send you to the bishop's fire. Besides,“ he smiled again, burning you would be an awful waste of Brother Clement's endeavours. He tells me he is calling a bone-setter from the village and she will try to repair your Genevieve's rib, though Brother Clement warns me that ribs are very hard to mend.” Brother Clement talked to you?“ Thomas asked, surprised. Dear me, no! Poor Brother Clement can't talk at all! He was a galley slave once. The Mohammedans captured him in a raid on Leghorn, I think, or was it Sicily? They tore his tongue out, I assume because he insulted them, and then they cut off some thing else which is why, I suspect, he became a monk after he was rescued by a Venetian galley. Now he tends to the beehives and looks after our lepers. And how do we talk to each other? Well, he points and he gestures and he makes drawings in the dust and somehow we manage to understand one another.”
So what will you do with us?' Thomas asked.
Do? Me? I shall do nothing! Except pray for you and to say farewell when you leave. But I would like to know why you are here.'
