under his successor, grew less and less willing to attend, and muttered to their parents that they were beaten now for the least error, let alone a real offence.
“It was a mistake,” said Brother Jerome loftily, “ever to let them run wild, as Father Adam did. They feel a proper curb now as affliction, instead of fair usage. What says the Rule on this head? That boys or youths who cannot yet understand how great a punishment excommunication is, must be punished for their offences either by fasting, or by sharp stripes, for their own good. The priest does very properly by them.”
“I cannot regard a simple mistake in letters,” retorted Brother Paul, up in arms for lads no older than his own charges, “as an offence. Offence argues a will to offend, and these children answer as best they know, having no will but to do well.”
“The offence,” said Jerome pompously, “is in the neglect and inattention which caused them to be imperfect in answering. Those who attend diligently will be able to answer without fault.”
“Not when they are already afraid,” snapped Brother Paul, and fled the argument for fear of his own temper. Jerome had a way of presenting his pious face as a target, and Paul, who like most big, powerful men could be astonishingly gentle and tender with the helpless, like his youngest pupils, was only too well aware of what his fists could do to an opponent of his own size, let alone a puny creature like Jerome.
It was more than a week before the matter came to the notice of Abbot Radulfus, and even then it was a relatively minor complaint that set the affair in motion. For Father Ailnoth had publicly accused Jordan Achard, the Foregate baker, of delivering short-weight loaves, and Jordan, rightly pricked in his professional pride, meant to rebut the charge at all costs.
“And a lucky man he is,” said Erwald the provost heartily,”that he’s charged with the one thing every soul in the Foregate will swear is false, for he gives just measure and always has, if he does nothing else justly in his life. If he’d been charged with fathering one or two of the recent bastards in these parts, he’d have had good cause to sing very low. But he bakes good bread, and never cheats on the weight. And how the priest came by this error is a mystery, but Jordan wants blood for it, and he has a fluent mouth on him that might well speak up usefully for others less bold.”
So it was that the provost of the Foregate, backed by Jordan the baker and one or two more of the notables of the parish, came to ask audience of Abbot Radulfus in chapter on the eighteenth day of December.
“I have asked you here into private with me,” said the abbot, when they had withdrawn at his request into the parlour in his lodging,”so that the daily duties of the brothers may not be disrupted. For I see that you have much to discuss, and I would like you to speak freely.
Now we have time enough. Master Provost, you have my attention. I desire the prosperity and happiness of the Foregate, as you do.”
His very use of the courtesy title, to which Erwald had no official right, was meant as an invitation, and as such accepted.
“Father Abbot,” began Erwald earnestly, “we are come to you thus because we are not altogether easy at the rule of our new priest. Father Ailnoth has his duties in the church, and performs them faithfully, and there we have no complaint of him. But where he moves among us in the parish we are not happy with his dealings. He has called into question whether Aelgar, who works for him, is villein or free, and has not asked of us, who know very well he is a free man. He has also caused Aelgar to plough up a part of the headland of his neighbour Eadwin, without Had win’s knowledge or leave. He has accused Master Jordan, here, of giving short weight, while all of us here know that is false. Jordan is known for good bread and good measure.”
“That is truth,” said Jordan emphatically. “I rent my bakery ovens from the abbey, it is on your land I work, you have known me for years, that I take pride in my bread.”
“You have that right,” agreed Radulfus, “it is good bread. Go on, Master Provost, there is more to tell.”
“My lord, there is,” said Erwald, very gravely now. “You may have heard with what strict dealing Father Ailnoth keeps his school. The same severity he uses towards the boys of the parish, wherever he sees them gathered, if they put a foot aside?and you know that the young are liable to folly. He is too free with his blows, he has done violence where it was not called for, not by our measure. The children are afraid of him. That is not good, though not everyone has patience with children. But the women are frightened, too. He preaches such dire things, they are afraid of hell.”
“There is no need to fear,” said the abbot, “unless by reason of a consciousness of sin. I do not think we have here in the parish such great sinners.”
“No, my lord, but women are tender and easily frightened. They look within for sins they may have committed, unknowing. They are no longer sure what is sin and what is not, so they dare not breathe without wondering if they do wrong. But there is more still.”
“I am listening,” said the abbot.
“My lord, there’s a decent poor man of this parish, Centwin, whose wife Elen bore a very weakly child, a boy, four days ago. It was about Sext when the baby was born, and it was so small and feeble, they were sure it must die, and Centwin ran quickly to the priest’s house, and begged him to come and baptise the boy before he died, that his soul might be saved. And Father Ailnoth sent out word that he was at his devotions, and could not come until he had completed the office. Centwin begged him, but he would not interrupt his prayers. And when he did go, Father, the baby was dead.”
The small, chill silence seemed to bring down a looming darkness on the panelled room.
“Father, he would not give the child Christian burial, because it was not baptised. He said it could not come within the hallowed ground, though he would say what prayers he could at its burial?which was in a grave outside the pale. The place I can show.”
Abbot Radulfus said with infinite heaviness: “He was within his rights.”
“His rights! What of the child’s rights? It might have been christen soul if he had come when he was called for.”
“He was within his rights,” said Radulfus again, inexorably but with deep detestation. “The office is sacrosanct.”
“So is the newborn soul,” said Erwald, remorselessly eloquent.
“You say well. And God hears us both. There can and shall be dispensation. If you have more to tell, go on, tell me all.”
