The Dalwich Desecration Page 30

  “Yes . . .” was all I could muster in response as the awareness that he had actually suffered the same sort of night as me began to penetrate my murky brain. He was, I now realized, operating solely under the force of his determination to see this case brought to its inexorable conclusion. And it was providing him with a drive that I had to admire. “Have you solved this murder then?”

  “Solved it?” He tilted his head slightly before taking the few steps to the door. “Let us just say that I know enough to be nettlesome and I suspect enough to be lethal.”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “Indeed.” He nodded as a smile ghosted across his lips. “Just as soon as we have gathered together the fine brothers of this monastery.”

  I was about to protest, to insist he take me into his confidence, but before I could do so he pulled a small cloth from the waistband of his pants, its corners appearing to have been folded in upon themselves many times over. He handed it to me and I realized at once that it was not a cloth at all but one of his cummerbunds that had been rolled up and pressed flat. “What is this . . . ?” I mumbled as I squeezed the contents, noting their pliability and yet quite unable to discern precisely what was nestled inside.

  “What does it feel like?” he asked as a cockeyed grin slowly bloomed onto his face.

  I unrolled the cummerbund partway and was immediately struck by the pungent scent that rushed up at me, caustic and harsh. There was no need for me to unwrap it further as I knew at once what it was. “Where . . . ?” I started to say before he interrupted me.

  “I need you to secrete that from everyone until I ask you to hand it to me.” His eyes crackled with exhilaration and I finally understood the nature of his mood this morning.

  “Did you . . . ?” But the rest of my question halted in my throat as Colin reached over and flung the door open.

  “Let us be on our way and have this unfortunate business resolved,” he muttered, all signs of his earlier grin vanquished from his face.

  I carefully folded the cummerbund again and slid it beneath my suspenders at the small of my back so no one would see it until Colin deemed it time. I tugged on the back of my coat to ensure there was no telltale bulge and then hurried after him, my heart thundering heavily, and I only hoped that we were ready for this final joust.

  “Father Demetris . . .” I heard Colin call as the priest rounded the corner from the chapel with a bevy of monks at his heels.

  “Mr. Pendragon . . .” He glanced behind Colin and gave me a quick smile. “Mr. Pruitt . . . God’s blessings on you both this morning.”

  “And the same to you, Father,” Colin replied at once, though the tautness in his voice was unmistakable to me. “Might I trouble you and some of the brothers to join us for a meeting in the refectory? Much progress has been made on the abbot’s murder and I should very much like to discuss it with those of you who have been most helpful.”

  “Of course.” Father Demetris managed to summon up something that faintly resembled a smile, but like Colin, there was no joy behind it. “Who do you wish to address?”

  Colin stepped forward as the monks filed past on the way to their daily obligations. “Most certainly these good men right here,” he said, gesturing toward Brothers Silsbury and Wright, before pointing across the hallway at Brother Bursnell, who was just on the verge of ducking into his library. “And perhaps Brother Clayworth and Brother Green . . . ?” Colin’s smile turned warmer when he said the last monk’s name, though I was instantly disheartened to hear that he would need that congenial man to take part in this final parley. “Good morning, Brother Hollings . . .” Colin called to the young man, clouting his back as though they were aged comrades, but the gesture only earned him a grimace for his efforts. “You will join us, won’t you?” he asked before turning to find Brother Morrison ambling toward us in the young monk’s wake. “And, of course, Brother Morrison.”

  “Of course Brother Morrison what . . . ?” the elderly monk repeated, his visage as unyielding as ever.

  “Mr. Pendragon and Mr. Pruitt have asked that a few of us gather in the refectory for a short discussion,” Father Demetris answered before Colin could do so.

  “I really must get out to the brewery,” Brother Clayworth reminded, giving an uncharacteristic scowl. “Those young neophytes don’t know what they’re doing without me to keep an eye on them.”

  “I give you my word that I shan’t take more time than is absolutely necessary,” Colin responded. Still, it was evident Brother Clayworth was not happy about being thusly restrained from his duties, and I wondered if his demeanor was at all attributable to the fact that he had likely not gotten any fire into his belly yet this morning.

  “Fine, fine,” he mumbled, turning and following Brother Bursnell into the refectory.

  “Then I should think we have a quorum,” Colin announced grimly as he too pushed through the door.

  “A quorum?!” Father Demetris turned to me, the look on his face as confused as it appeared uneasy.

  “It’s just an expression,” I said with the fragment of a shrug, though in truth I had no idea what Colin’s intentions were.

  The priest and I went inside to find the seven monks assembled around the nearer table with Colin strolling casually across the front of the room, his arms held firmly behind his back. Father Demetris took his place at the head of the table and I sat at the opposite end, closest to the door. It was reminiscent of other cases where I was meant to create a physical barrier with my presence, though I had to remind myself that these were monks, seekers of religious devotion, not common miscreants looking to undermine the cogs of justice. So I forced myself to expel a determined breath as I sat back in my chair and waited for Colin to begin.

  But it was Brother Silsbury who finally broke the uneasy silence. “You wished to speak with us?” he said with the thinnest underpinning of annoyance in his tone.

  “Yes.” Colin finally stopped moving and turned to face the monks as though just realizing that they were all quite suddenly assembled in front of him. “Indeed.” A tight grin flashed across his face in an instant, his lips drawn tight and his eyes likewise pinched but noticeably watchful. “I have some questions I should like to pose to the lot of you, and thought this far more expedient than continuing to putter about one at a time.”

  “Oh, fie,” Brother Morrison groused, the heavy lines pocking his face drawing tight with disapproval. “How much longer must we endure this?”

  “Perhaps we can end this sorrowful business here and now,” Colin shot back, and that got their attention just as he had meant for it to. “So, let me ask you, Brother Morrison, did you ever have occasion to discuss with Abbot Tufton the circumstances of his spiritual crisis?”

  “Well, of course I did,” the elderly monk huffed. “Most of us did at one time or another. That is the way of it in a monastery. When one of us bleeds we all suffer.” He turned quickly and glared down the table to where Brother Hollings was seated. “Except for our youngest members,” he corrected, pointing a finger at the ginger-haired young man who seemed quite content to try and go unnoticed. “Why in the Lord’s heaven do you even have him here?”

  “He found the abbot’s body,” Colin reminded with unaccountable patience. “There may well be pieces to this case that he still has not yet remembered.” Colin smiled gamely at the young man but got no response whatsoever. If Brother Hollings had anything he wished to add to the conversation I knew it would take some doing for Colin to extricate it.

  “We shall let Mr. Pendragon do as he sees fit,” Father Demetris announced with the authority that had been granted him from Bishop Fencourt. “It is time that we have this done.”

  Colin gave the priest a slight nod as he moved his gaze to Brother Wright. The slender monk with the jawline beard had his thin brown hair swept back from his forehead and was holding himself with the rigidity of a man who does not suffer tensions well. It was a decidedly unfortunate truth considering there were so many tens
ions to be suffered.

  “Are you feeling well today?” Colin asked.

  “Well enough,” Brother Wright responded.

  “I am sorry for your affliction. I can remember my mother suffering such bouts when I was a boy. Sometimes they would last several days.”

  “They are a curse,” Brother Wright answered stoically, and I could tell that he too did not like to be the center of attention for his monastic brothers.

  “Is there anything particular to which you attribute the cause of your sufferings?” Colin pressed.

  “Were I able to attribute a cause I would avoid it with my life. I should think that someone who has witnessed such sufferings firsthand might have discerned that answer for himself.”

  “Quite right,” Colin agreed, allowing the wisp of a grin to brush across his lips once again. “I wonder if tension and strife do not play some role in your unease as even now your brow is beginning to bristle with your displeasure.” Brother Wright did not respond, but I could see the furrowing of his forehead just as Colin had pointed out. “Has there indeed been particular tension and discord here at Whitmore Abbey of late?”

  Brother Wright did not answer at once, his discomfort palpable, choosing instead to look as though he was pondering his answer, his brown eyes brooding and his thin lips pressed firmly. “We are a brotherhood . . .” he began after a minute, “. . . a family. As there is disharmony amongst any family, so it can be found here from time to time. Our devotion to God does not preclude the fact that we are but mortal men.”

  “So I have been told.” Colin’s response was quick and dismissive. “But is there anything of note that brings you specific distress?”

  “Are you looking for me to admit something?” the monk snapped back, his brow now every bit as pinched as the rest of his face.

  “Yes,” Colin answered with marked simplicity. “I should like you to admit the truth.” He flicked his gaze to Brother Silsbury, whose broad shoulders and powerful torso rose higher than any other monk’s with the exception of the soft, round Brother Green. “You provided Brother Wright with the laudanum he required to endure his pain. Did you ever seek to ferret out the foundation of his enfeeblement?”

  “I am not a physician,” Brother Silsbury reminded in a tone more harsh than seemed necessary.

  “I am well aware,” Colin allowed with the flash of his own bit of curtness. “Yet the good brother here seems quite coiled, which, as I remember with my own mother’s sufferings, is not good. So tell me, Brother Silsbury, is there any particular disharmony that picks at the binds of your brotherhood?”

  “Really, Mr. Pendragon. You seem determined to find something untoward when no such crisis exists.” To his credit, Brother Silsbury actually managed to force a slight snicker though no one else joined him.

  “Then why were you so determined to keep me from the abbot’s personal papers and Bible?”

  “I showed them to you!” he fired back, the offense thick in his voice. “I gave you access to all of them the second time you came to the infirmary.”

  “And so you did.” A gracious smile eased onto Colin’s face for just a moment and I knew he was finally stroking the spine of what he had been after all along. “Yet you proscribed time limits and restrictions, and until Father Demetris returned and forced you to do so, you had no intention of letting me study the abbot’s most personal papers at length. Instead you gave me some twaddle about needing to review them first yourself, which would defeat the purpose of my looking at them entirely if you chose to redact or omit pages.” If Brother Silsbury intended to respond he was not given the chance as Colin quickly turned on Brother Clayworth, whose thin, well-lined face seemed to grow gaunter as Colin singled him out. “What have you to say, Brother Clayworth? You are one of the most senior members of this brotherhood. In fact, your running of the brewery provides the lifeblood from which this monastery runs. I cannot believe that you would be unaware of a powerful dissent amongst your fellow members.”

  “It was nothing at all as you seek to make it . . .” he blurted out before quickly ceasing and rubbing at his eyes.

  “It . . . ?! ” Colin seized the word, repeating it slowly, kicking the proverbial door wide that poor Brother Clayworth had inadvertently cracked open.

  “Abbot Tufton struggled with doubt after the Codex Sinaiticus was found,” Brother Clayworth answered, his voice slow and soft, his eyes pinned on his hands resting on the table in front of him. “So many thousands of changes to our Bible. A book we had thought sacrosanct. It was hard for many of us to accept. It is why Abbot Tufton went to Egypt in the first place.” Brother Clayworth looked pained, his white hair framing the colorlessness of his face. “I think for myself the most shattering thing to learn was that the last twelve verses in the canon of Mark were not even part of the original text. They were added much later.” He shook his head. “It changes so much of what we thought we knew about the Resurrection. . . .” He fell silent.

  “I cannot sit for this,” Brother Silsbury spoke up into the stillness. “These were private struggles of our abbot’s and are most certainly not meant to be bandied about like some sort of fodder. Do you mean to condone this conversation?” He turned an outraged glare onto Father Demetris, who quickly averted his eyes, gesturing for Colin to continue nevertheless.

  “Did you discuss your abbot’s doubts with him?” Colin looked back at Brother Clayworth.

  “Of course. As Brother Morrison has already told you, I am certain most of us here did.” He nodded but still did not remove his gaze from his folded hands. “I reminded him of Proverbs 3:5—‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart . . .’ ”

  “‘. . . and lean not unto thine own understanding,’” Colin finished for him with a slight nod. “And it is my belief that your abbot very much wanted to follow that advice as that particular proverb was included in the last communication Abbot Tufton had with the bishop.”

  “Through God’s grace I know Abbot Tufton had been healing spiritually,” Brother Clayworth said, glancing around at his assembled brothers as though looking for agreement, of which I saw none. “And then those two women released those accursed photographs of the four excised gospels they had just found in that same blasted abbey in Egypt. . . .”

  “The Smith sisters,” Colin supplied. “Which appears to have reignited your abbot’s questions . . . and doubts . . .”

  “There are no doubts for a man of true faith,” Brother Morrison rumbled into the conversation, his craggy face matching the finality with which he spoke. “If believing were easy, there would be no need for men like us.”

  “Are you suggesting your abbot was not a man of true faith?” Colin asked. But he got no further reply, and after a moment his lack of doing so began to invoke the response he seemed unwilling to give.

  Obviously content with the inference of the protracted silence, Colin turned his attention toward Brother Bursnell. Even with his pleasing features and dark blond hair, he suddenly looked every bit as gaunt and strained as the rest of his colleagues. I wondered at the change in him since our first meeting in the library, but could do nothing to explain his evident hindrance to our investigation beyond the growing feeling that he was somehow involved in the abbot’s murder. And if not, then he surely knew who was.

  “I know you have had no success in learning the whereabouts of your abbot’s Egyptian journals,” Colin said with resignation. “It is a pity as they would seem the most likely place where he would have detailed his misgivings.”

  “It is not for lack of effort,” came Brother Bursnell’s cautious reply.

  “Is that so?” Colin tipped his head to one side as though considering the younger monk’s words with some measure of skepticism, as I well knew he was. “Because I was able to find them in only the second place I looked,” he announced as he flicked his eyes to me and gave a single nod, the assembled monks instantly beginning to rustle and glance about at one another.

  None of the men spoke as I stood up and r
eached beneath my coat, extracting the rolled cummerbund from its hiding place beneath my suspenders at the crux of my back. Colin had already reached me by the time I held the small package in my hands, so I turned it over to him and quickly retook my seat. As Colin made his way back to the front of the room I became aware of the lingering stares of Brother Clayworth and Brother Bursnell watching me. It felt almost as though I had betrayed them in some fashion, and I wondered at the depths of dissension within this group of men.

  “This is what remains of your abbot’s Egyptian journals,” Colin was saying as he freed the small, blackened books from within the cummerbund. “I found them last night in the incinerator behind the infirmary. It would seem someone had a mind to destroy them,” he added unnecessarily, the two books heavily charred with only small amounts of writing legible on the innermost pages. “And yet it is enough. Enough to see tortured musings about the many manuscripts found in Saint Catherine’s Monastery, most especially the Codex Sinaiticus. He also makes mention of the non-biblical testaments brought back from the White Monastery in Egypt. Though they remain unrecognized by the church, they still clearly left him with needling doubts.

  “All of it bore out the proof of Man’s hand everywhere amongst the words that were said to belong to God. The thousands of changes, excisions, errors, and discrepancies that threatened the very foundation upon which you and your abbot have dedicated your lives. The abbot’s writings make plain his torment not only for himself, but for all of you as well.” He set the savaged books onto the table in front of Father Demetris and cast his eyes to Brother Bursnell again. “You did not look for these journals because you already knew they had been cast to the flames.”

  Brother Bursnell looked stricken, and though I had always thought him a handsome man I could see no traces of it now. “I did not know any such thing. They had been borrowed from the library and I had no reason to believe they would not come back in due course.”