The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [100]
Then a terrible thought occurred to him. He was seized with a sense of panic. What if he had blurted something out? What if he had said her name? Or worse. Hadn’t his mind just been dwelling upon her body? The innermost recesses. The taste, the smell, the touch. Dear God, had he shouted something out? Was he doing so now, unaware of it?
They all sank down to pray. But Brother Adam did not murmur the words. He closed his mouth, clamped his tongue between his teeth just to make sure. He blushed with his sense of guilt and stole a look at the faces opposite. Had he said anything? Had they heard? Did they all know his secret?
It did not seem so. The tonsured heads were bowed in prayer. Was anyone stealing a furtive glance in his direction? Was Grockleton’s eye about to stare at him in terrible judgement?
It was not so much guilt that afflicted him; it was the terror that he might have blurted it out in that enclosed space. The morning service, instead of refreshing him, brought him only a nervous torture that day. He was relieved, when it ended, to get outside.
After breakfast, somewhat calmer, he went to see the prior.
The time of morning business in the prior’s office was normally given over to routine administration. But there were other matters that could come up. If, for the sake of the community’s well-being, it was necessary, as it was your duty to do, to make any personal reports – ‘I am afraid I saw Brother Benedict eating a double helping of herrings,’ or ‘Brother Mark went to sleep instead of doing his tasks yesterday’ – then that was when you did it.
Wondering whether anyone was going to report on him, he waited until the end before he went in. If he had been caught, he thought he’d sooner know now. When he finally joined Grockleton, however, the prior gave no sign of having such information.
‘I’m afraid’, he explained, ‘it’s Tom Furzey.’ He gave Grockleton a precise account of what had taken place in the field and the prior nodded thoughtfully.
‘You did quite right not to send the man home at that moment,’ Grockleton said. ‘He would probably have struck his poor wife again.’
‘He must go now, though,’ Adam pointed out. ‘We can’t have indiscipline.’ He knew the prior would heartily agree with that.
Yet instead, Grockleton paused. He eyed Adam thoughtfully. ‘I wonder,’ he said, pushing himself gently back in his chair with his claw, ‘if that is right.’
‘Surely, if a hired worker insults the monk in charge …’
‘Reprehensible, of course.’ Grockleton pursed his lips. ‘Yet perhaps, Brother Adam, we need to take a larger view.’
‘A larger view?’ This was indeed a new departure for the prior.
‘Perhaps it is better if this man and his wife are apart. He will miss her. Let us hope he will repent. In time one of us may speak to him, quietly.’
‘Doesn’t that leave me in an awkward position, Prior? He will feel – all the men may think – that they can speak to me rudely with impunity.’
‘Really? Do you think so?’ Grockleton looked down at the table where his claw was now very comfortably resting. ‘Yet sometimes, Brother Adam, we must work hard not to consider our own feelings, but the greater good of others. I have no doubt, if we leave Furzey where he is, that the work will still be done and well done. You will see to that. Perhaps you may imagine you look foolish – even feel humiliated. But we must all learn to live with that. It is part of our vocation. Don’t you agree?’ He smiled quite sweetly.
‘So Furzey must stay? Even if he is rude to me again?’
‘Yes.’
Brother Adam nodded. He’s paid me out nicely for humiliating him at the river, he thought, although that was really his fault and not mine. But it was not so much his public humiliation that he was thinking of, as he now bowed his head before the happy prior.
By sending Furzey away, he would have ensured that he returned home to his wife. That would make any further relations with her on his own part almost impossible. But now she would be alone. He wondered what would happen.
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