The Dalwich Desecration Read online

  Colin spoke up, interrupting my tedious review. “I am assuming . . . given some of what your abbot has written here, that he traveled to Egypt?” I looked up from the monotonous material I’d been flipping through with some envy at what Colin had obviously found.

  “He did,” Brother Bursnell answered as he refilled our tea. “He went about four years ago for six months. I suppose you could call it a sort of sabbatical. He traveled with two monks from Italy, one of whom is said to be very close to the Holy Father.”

  Colin’s eyebrows arced skyward. “Interesting. Was there any particular reason for the sojourn?”

  “As I am sure you are aware there have been many extraordinary archaeological findings coming out of Egypt over the last fifty years. The church is very keen on these discoveries given that the faithful are forever seeking proof for their beliefs.” He gave a dry sort of chuckle. “Something of a dichotomy given that faith is, of course, predicated upon . . . well . . . faith!”

  “Yes, of course . . .” Colin answered distractedly as he pawed through the pages he’d been reviewing. “Your abbot makes several mentions of Egypt here. It would seem to have made quite an impression on him.”

  “How could such a country not?” Brother Bursnell agreed. “A very strange and curious place. A desert of ancient ruins and pyramids that go back so many thousands of years. Even the camel is one of God’s more curious beasts. It is not a place that I myself should ever like to see,” he added.

  “Not interested in that which is unique?” Colin prodded with an impish twinkle. But if Brother Bursnell had any intention of commenting he did not get the chance as the door abruptly popped open and Brother Green poked his soft, round face in, lit up with its usual glowing smile.

  “Do you gentlemen need any more water?”

  “You mustn’t fuss over us,” Colin answered, returning a grin. There was something infectious about Brother Green’s depth of warmth given his unlikely height and broad circumference. He looked like a man who could intimidate with his size alone, yet his demeanor was as gentle and gracious as the humblest of servants.

  “Fussing over you is my pleasure,” came the immediate reply, sounding wholly genuine. “And you are welcome to stay for dinner tonight as well. Brother Rodney and I are making corned beef and cabbage. Shall I set a place for the two of you?”

  “No, thank you. . . .” Colin waved him off gently. “We must get back to Dalwich soon. I’m afraid we’ve another matter that requires our attention before this evening is through.”

  “Well, you will be missed,” Brother Green said with his usual exuberance, though I hardly thought that likely.

  “There is something that I wonder if you might do for us?” Colin added quite unexpectedly.

  “Of course.”

  “Could you arrange for us to speak with your newest member? Brother . . .” Colin turned to me, his face blank.

  “Nathan,” I dutifully supplied.

  “That will be easy,” Brother Green beamed. “He’s just come in from the fields with Brother Duncan. I’m sure he’s in the balneary washing up. It is difficult work they do out there, bless their hearts. Much too much for a man like myself,” he added with a chuckle as he patted his ample belly. “Come into the refectory when you’ve finished here and I’ll fetch Brother Nathan for you. You are welcome to speak with him there.” His broad, smiling face puckered slightly, his eyes revealing a trace of disappointment. “Are you sure I cannot convince you to stay for supper?”

  “Perhaps another time,” Colin answered in a tone that assured me how unlikely that would be, though it didn’t seem Brother Green caught it. “For now we shall briefly trouble Brother Nathan and be on our way.”

  “Of course,” Brother Green nodded, his ever-present smile once again in place as he ducked back out the door.

  “Such a kind man,” Colin noted as he turned to Brother Bursnell. “Everyone has been accommodating,” he hastened to add, “but there is something distinct about him.”

  “Brother Green came rather late to the calling,” Brother Bursnell said as he began straightening the papers we had already gone through. “He grew up in Liverpool and was apparently something of a hellion in his youth. It seems to have made him more grateful now that he has devoted himself to God.”

  “How long has he been here?”

  “Ten years. Almost from our founding. He is a bedrock for many of the other brothers.”

  “I can imagine that would be so,” Colin remarked with a flickered grin as he slid the remaining documents back to the young, fresh-faced monk. “I cannot help but notice gaps in the abbot’s writings. He appears to be quite regimented in his daily musings and yet there are days here and there where there seems to be nothing. Or in this instance”—he snatched up two sheets of paper and held them out—“this first page is starting to detail a story about Saint Catherine’s Monastery in Egypt, yet on the page that follows he is talking solely about forgiveness and there appears to be no correlation with the preceding page. It’s as if”—he flipped both papers over and glanced at their empty backs—“well . . . as if there is a page missing.”

  Brother Bursnell frowned as he leaned in and studied the two pages. “Perhaps someone has borrowed a portion of this manuscript. It’s quite common. The purpose of keeping these writings is to let the other brothers study the ministries of our abbot. And those of the other senior members, of course,” he seemed oddly compelled to add.

  “Do you not keep a record of who takes what? It would seem rather arbitrary—these missing pages.”

  The monk gave an amused laugh, his light blue eyes as filled with merriment as surprise. “Really, now, Mr. Pendragon, we number but thirty-three. Do you suppose such things could not be easily found amongst the brothers should the need arise? And I am sure you don’t mean to suggest that one of us, devotees to the church, might actually pilfer pages?” He gave a chuckle, but it sounded vaguely arid and harsh.

  Colin tilted his head slightly and crooked a single eyebrow, giving a thin smile that I thought was meant to be reassuring but looked nothing of the sort to me. “Well, it doesn’t seem you have any way of knowing if they were.” He stood up and glanced back down at hastily reassembled piles of papers. “Did your abbot bring any writings back from his time in Egypt?”

  Brother Bursnell’s face had gone quite sober, though whether it was because he had taken offense at Colin’s words or because Colin had actually given him something to ponder, I couldn’t tell. “Yes,” he answered crisply. “He brought several journals back with him. Would you like for me to retrieve one of them?”

  “Very much.”

  The monk nodded and headed to the back of the library again.

  “Could you try not to look so pleased with yourself,” I whispered to Colin.

  He leaned right over by my ear. “I am rather pleased with myself. We might finally be on to something here. Saint Catherine’s Monastery in Egypt . . .” he said quite pointedly, as though that should mean something to me.

  “I can’t lay my fingers on them at this precise moment, Mr. Pendragon,” Brother Bursnell called from the back. “Things are quite a jumble back here and it has undoubtedly gotten mislaid.”

  “That could be your fault,” I reminded Colin under my breath.

  “No need to concern yourself with it then,” Colin called back after tossing me an amused look. “Perhaps you’ll be able to locate it for us by tomorrow.”

  “I shall do my best,” he answered as he poked his head out from around the shelving, his face betraying his obvious chagrin.

  “Then we have troubled you enough for one day,” Colin announced as he gestured for me to follow. “We shall leave you be and find Brother Green. You have, as always, been most generous with your time.”

  Brother Bursnell offered a fleeting grin but said nothing further as we let ourselves out and walked the short distance down the hallway toward the refectory.

  “Since when do you give a whit about Egypt?”
I muttered quietly.

  “Since the abbot went to visit Saint Catherine’s Monastery,” he said as though the answer was as obvious as the sunlight itself. Nevertheless, it meant nothing to me and I wondered how it could mean something to him. “The Codex Sinaiticus . . .” he prodded, but it only sounded like another form of influenza to me and I had not known of any such illness to have come out of the African continent. “You haven’t heard of it?! I’m rather stunned . . .” he admitted as he plastered on an obligatory smile and barreled into the dining hall. “Brother Green!” he called out.

  “Mr. Pendragon and Mr. Pruitt!” came the warm response as Brother Green stood up from the farther table where he’d been sitting next to a rail-thin, young monk. The young novitiate had short dark blond hair slicked back and was wearing the telltale scruff of one too young trying too hard to produce a man’s beard. “Permit me to introduce Brother Nathan. I’m afraid he’s a bit disheveled yet as he’s just returned from his day’s work as I told you.”

  “I washed up some,” the young man defended himself as he ran a quick hand through his damp hair.

  “It will take more than a touch of untidiness to turn us away,” Colin assured with a chuckle. “We are grateful for your willingness to give us a spot of your time. I promise we shall leave you to your evening’s routine as quickly as possible.”

  “You mustn’t worry about that,” Brother Green answered for the young monk. “Brother Nathan is at your service. So I will leave you gentlemen be.” True to his word, he ambled over to the side door that led to the kitchen and was gone.

  “He is truly one of the most pleasant-natured men I have ever met,” Colin said as he ushered Brother Nathan to a seat. “Is everyone here like him?”

  To my amazement, the young monk actually took Colin’s bait. “Mostly, though some of the older brothers can be prickly at times. Not that I blame them, mind you,” he quickly added. “They have been devout for most of their lives and I’ve been here less than a year. I know I must tax their patience.”

  “Why would a faithful young monk such as yourself try their patience?” Colin pressed. “I should think they would be pleased for the freshness of a new devotee.”

  “Freshness?” He stared at us with confusion. “The order does not seek freshness in their ranks. They are following tenets that go back nearly two thousand years. There is no freshness, sir, only the word of God. And that precedes even time itself.”

  “Yes, of course,” Colin mumbled, and I could tell he was surprised by the voracity of the young man’s answer. “I meant no offense.”

  “None taken, sir,” he answered right back.

  Colin managed to rouse up an awkward sort of smile before finally proceeding. “Might I enquire as to the impatience you feel from the senior monks here?”

  “It’s really nothing of any matter,” he said with a confidence that seemed to belie his youth. “We are rather like a small family and with any small family there are bound to be disagreements now and then. I came from Kinnoull Monastery in Perth, Scotland, and we had no such discord there, but then there were over a hundred and fifty of us at the time. If there had been discord, I doubt I’d have heard about it anyway.” He gave an easy grin that made me quite like this self-assured young man.

  “Discord?” Colin repeated casually, the fingers of his right hand tapping on his knee, alerting me to the fact that he was obviously aching to snatch a coin from his pocket and begin twirling it around.

  “Yes, the usual sorts of disagreements from like-minded individuals. There can be great passion in debates, and I think it fair to say that these brothers are most certainly men of passion.”

  “Men of passion . . . ?!” Colin parroted with notable disbelief.

  “Most certainly. Our entire adult lives are dedicated to God. Would you not consider that choice the very summit of passion?”

  Colin turned to me with such an expression of incredulity that I was almost unable to suppress the laugh that begged to leap from my throat. “Your point is well-made,” he conceded as he glanced back at the young man. “And what sorts of debates do the good monks of Whitmore Abbey have? Has there ever been one that brought you any level of concern?”

  “Never. No matter the flare of temperaments or harshness of words, at the end of every evening we lower our heads as one community and pledge our lives, hearts, and souls to God. We are but vessels for His word and struggle only in our desire to better understand what He would have us know.”

  It took Colin a moment to respond. “Of course . . .” he finally said with a nod that I supposed was meant to cover his clear astonishment at having so thoroughly lost control of this conversation. “I wonder if we might trouble you to allow us access to your abbot’s cell one more time.”

  “Oh . . .” Brother Nathan’s expression instantly showed his disappointment. “The priest padlocked it and I certainly don’t have a key. You might ask Brother Green.”

  “Thank you,” Colin said as he stood up, once again offering something of a mirthless grin. “We appreciate your time and shan’t trouble you a moment longer.”

  “As you wish.” The young man gave a quick nod as he too stood up. “Shall I see you out then?”

  “No, I think we shall take your advice and speak to Brother Green.”

  “Very well,” Brother Nathan said as he padded back to the door and let himself out with the same remarkable silence these men seemed so practiced at.

  “Well . . .” I heaved a sigh. “At least he’s the first of these monks to admit there’s been even the slightest amount of friction here.”

  “Indeed . . .” Colin muttered as he headed over to the kitchen door, “it seems this day may prove to be a watershed.” Which instantly put me back in mind of the Codex Sinaiticus he had mentioned earlier. While I knew a codex to be a collection of ancient manuscripts, most often of scriptural texts, I had no notion of what a Sinaiticus was. And yet, before I could ask for even the most banal of explanations, he pushed open the door and called out for Brother Green. “Might Mr. Pruitt and I trouble you one more time?”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Brother Green stated patiently as he strolled back from the kitchen, his manner as genuine as ever. “Have you changed your mind about staying for dinner?”

  Colin’s eyebrows elevated and his smile warmed markedly. “You do make it hard to decline, but I am afraid we simply cannot stay tonight. I was actually wondering whether you might be able to let us into the abbot’s cell for one more quick inspection. It is vital that we not overlook anything.”

  For the first time I watched Brother Green’s face crumple as though his imminent failure was a distinct cause for humiliation. “I’m afraid Brother Morrison has the only key. Father Demetris gave it to him before he returned to Chichester. I would take you to Brother Morrison right now, but I know he’s in vespers with most of the others and it would be so inopportune to disturb them. Perhaps you can wait until tomorrow?”

  Colin’s face went still, his own disappointment nearly as evident as Brother Green’s. “Of course,” he said. “Then permit me one last question.”

  “Anything at all.” Brother Green practically beamed again.

  “We have heard mention of several heated debates amongst the senior members of the abbey over the past year. Have there been any recently that elicited any sort for concern on your part?”

  “Oh no,” Brother Green chuckled, his broad face and ample belly jiggling at the very thought. “There’s never been anything like that.” He leaned forward as though about to impart a great secret. “As I am sure you can imagine, one of the hardest attributes of being a monk is the depth of our solitude, even as we live together in this community. Some of the brothers tend to forget diplomacy and end up being far more confrontational than they mean.” He chuckled again. “But there’s never any offense meant or taken. It is nothing more than friendly discourse, often with a dollop of ardor.”

  “And are you one of those fiery monks?” Coli
n asked.

  “I’ve been known to have my say,” he muttered unconvincingly, “but it is our most senior members who, rightfully, carry the heaviest responsibility for having their convictions deliberated.”

  “Of course . . .” Colin nodded. “Well, I’d say it’s time we left you to your dinner preparations.”

  We thanked Brother Green and as I followed Colin out I took note of the sudden bounce in his step. While I too found it interesting that these men did not always agree, I hardly felt uplifted to learn that the elder monks debated their passions now and again. “You seem awfully pleased,” I grumbled as we stepped outside.

  “I’m beginning to feel there is much to be pleased about.”

  “Debating monks and some monastery in Egypt I’m rebuked for never having heard about?” I complained. “It all means nothing to me.”

  Colin glanced back at me with an amused grin. “Then allow me to tell you a most extraordinary story about a monastery at the foot of Mount Sinai while we walk back to Dalwich,” he enticed.

  CHAPTER 14

  We arrived at the boardinghouse where Constable Brendle resided with remarkable speed, a feat I attributed to the fact that we’d had much to discuss on our way. What pleased me the most was learning that Sinaiticus referred to the foot of Mount Sinai where the codex bearing its name had first been found, hidden away in the same Saint Catherine’s Monastery where the abbot had gone several years before. And while I had not yet received answers to all of my questions, Colin had nevertheless begun to educate me on the astonishing facts surrounding the ancient monastery in Egypt and how it could conceivably correlate with the abbot’s murder and mutilation. All of which left me flooded with mixed feelings when we managed to reach the constable’s flat long before I was ready to do so.