The Brothers' Lot - Kevin Holohan [60]
In a flash the priest made up his mind: “Well, these things are bound to happen with so many broken pieces lying around the floor. But let’s have a good look at this, shall we? This is the important thing at the minute.” As if to reinforce his unadversarial stance, Father Mulvey set to examining the statuette with renewed interest.
“Now, Brother, can you remember if Venerable Saorseach O’Rahilly spoke to you at all while you were in the oratory?”
“No, no, I don’t believe he did. No, no, he didn’t.”
“Are you sure now, Brother? It might have been very difficult to hear him with all the noise in there, what with everything falling and breaking like that.”
“No, I can’t say I heard anything. But there were communion hosts!”
“Right. But you heard nothing?” asked Father Mulvey softly and with benign incredulity. “There was nothing at all, not even a little voice in the silence after all the noise?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there was but I couldn’t hear it. What about the communion hosts I saw?”
“We’ll get to those in time. But there could have been a voice, couldn’t there?”
“Could have been. I don’t know.”
“All right, all right, Brother. No need to get yourself worked up now. It’s all fine. We’re all on your side here.” Mulvey glanced down at the statue. He bit his lip. He needed time to think about this. “Here you are, Brother, why don’t you take Venerable Saorseach back. I’ll close the light and leave you alone for a little while and maybe you might find Venerable Saorseach has something to say to you. What do you think about that?”
Brother Boland’s eyes lit up at the prospect of getting the statuette back and he held out his hands imploringly, almost greedily.
Mulvey turned off the light and gently opened the door as little as possible and stepped out into the corridor. He looked Brother Loughlin in the eye and then mustered a slight conciliatory smile.
“I think I might take you up on that offer of a ball of malt now, Brother.”
21
Ahhhhhh! That’s a fine drop of whiskey, Brother,” mused Father Mulvey as the mouthful of first-shot from the unmarked bottle teased and warmed him with its spicy fire.
“It is indeed. You wouldn’t get the like of it anywhere in the city, I can tell you. I have an old friend gets it for me at the distillery in Listowel.”
“Ah, it is a good thing to have friends in the right places.”
“It is, Father, it is.”
The pleasantries over, Father Mulvey leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. He stared deep into the glass of whiskey in his right hand. Loughlin tried hard to maintain a veneer of indifference.
“A holy man, your Brother Boland, would you say, Brother?” asked Father Mulvey carefully.
“I would have to say so, yes. He’s a pious man, a great devotion to Our Lady of Indefinite Duration and, of course, to Venerable Saorseach O’Rahilly.”
“That is very commendable, very commendable indeed. But tell me this, would there be anything in Brother Boland’s character that might, how could I put this, be used to discredit him if, for example, he were to be investigated by the Regional Subcommittee of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints?”
Brother Loughlin peered at Father Mulvey. He knew these Jesuits and their tricky rhetorical ways. He was not going to be outflanked or hoodwinked. “I’m not entirely sure I understand what you’re driving at, Father.”
“Let me put it this way. Every year the Subcommittee investigates about a hundred alleged miracles or apparitions. They keep as balanced a view as possible but they must play devil’s advocate to each case. My question is whether Brother Boland would stand up to the rigors of such an investigation?”
“How rigorous an investigation are we talking about?”
Father Mulvey took a long draught from his glass and allowed Brother Loughlin to refill it. He sat back in his chair and observed the Brother as if from a great distance. “The most rigorous. Here’s the thing, Brother: to a man on a galloping horse it all looks like a first-class