The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [74]
‘They were royal gifts, Adam,’ the abbot pointed out.
‘Given long ago. Perhaps the king would not mind.’
King Edward I, that mighty legislator and warrior, had spent much of his reign subduing the Welsh and was planning to do the same to the Scots. He might not be interested in what the abbey did with its royal endowments. But you never knew.
‘I’d hate to ask him,’ the abbot confessed.
‘Well,’ said Brother Adam with a smile, ‘I have satisfied my conscience by bringing the matter before you. I can do no more.’
‘Quite. Thank you, Adam.’ The abbot indicated that he could retire.
For some time after he had gone, the abbot remained gazing silently into space, while John of Grockleton, his claw-like hand resting on the edge of the table, sat watching him. At last the abbot sighed.
‘He’s right, of course.’
Grockleton’s claw clenched just a little, but he did not interrupt.
‘The trouble is,’ the abbot went on, ‘many of the other Cistercian houses own churches too. If we make a fuss, the other abbots might not take it very kindly.’
Grockleton continued to watch. Privately he couldn’t have cared less if the abbey owned a dozen churches and hammered half the vicars in Christendom.
‘As abbot,’ the abbot mused on, ‘one has to be careful.’
‘Very.’ Grockleton nodded.
‘His first recommendation is clearly right. This Cornish vicar must be squashed.’ He sat up briskly. ‘What else have we to deal with?’
‘The assignment of duties, Abbot, while you are away. There were two appointments you mentioned: the novice master and the new supervisor of the granges.’
After the recent violent episode involving Luke at the grange the abbot had decided that, for a year at least, a trusted monk ought to act as a permanent supervisor, visiting the granges continuously. ‘I want them to feel’, he had said, ‘an iron hand.’ It was not a pleasant task for any monk; he would miss many of the daily offices in church. ‘But it must be done,’ the abbot had decreed.
‘Novice master,’ the abbot began. ‘Brother Stephen needs a rest, we all agree. I was thinking, therefore, of Brother Adam. He’s awfully good with the novices.’ He nodded contentedly.
Grockleton’s claw remained at rest upon the table. When he spoke, it was quietly. ‘I have a request, Abbot. While you are away and I am in charge, I should like you not to put Brother Adam in charge of the novices.’
‘Oh?’ The abbot frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because this matter of the churches is in his mind. I do not doubt his loyalty to the order …’
‘Certainly not.’
‘But if, for instance, a young novice should ask, while reading the Carta Caritatis …’ He paused conscientiously. ‘Brother Adam might find it hard not to criticize us …’ He stopped, then added meaningfully: ‘That would leave me in a very difficult position. I don’t think I’d be adequate …’
The abbot gazed at him. He wasn’t deceived. He could just imagine the care with which Grockleton would ensure that Brother Adam was embarrassed. On the other hand he couldn’t deny that there was an element of truth in what the prior said. ‘What do you propose?’ he asked coldly.
‘Brother Matthew is still shaken. But he would make a perfectly adequate novice master. Why not let Brother Adam supervize the granges? His period of meditation, I believe, will have strengthened him for the task.’
The sly dog, the abbot thought. That last was a dig at him for favouring Adam with light assignments. The message was clear: I’m your deputy, making a reasonable request. If you don’t give your favourite an unpleasant task I’ll make trouble for him.
And then an unworthy thought occurred to him: if I can put up with the prior, then Adam can put up with the granges for a while. He smiled at Grockleton sweetly. ‘You are right, John. And if, as I suspect, Adam may one day be abbot, a reforming abbot, perhaps’ – he enjoyed watching Grockleton wince when he said that – ‘then this experience will be very useful to him.’
So, before the abbot left the monastery at the ending of the year, Brother Adam