Timeline - Michael Crichton [137]
“This way,” the monk said, and led them down a staircase and into a small sunlit courtyard. To one side, Marek saw eight soldiers in the colors of Arnaut, standing in the sun. He noticed that they wore their swords.
The monk led them toward a small house at the edge of the courtyard, and then through a door. They heard the trickle of running water and saw a fountain with a large basin. They heard chanted prayers, in Latin. In the center of the room, two robed monks washed a naked, pale body lying on a table.
“Frater Marcellus,” the monk whispered, giving a slight bow.
Marek stared. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing.
Brother Marcel was dead.
14:52:07
Their reaction gave them away. The monk could clearly see that they had not known Marcel was dead. Frowning, he took Marek by the arm, and said, “Why are you here?”
“We had hoped to speak with Brother Marcel.”
“He died last night.”
“How did he die?” Marek said.
“We do not know. But as you can see, he was old.”
“Our request of him was urgent,” Marek said. “Perhaps if I could see his private effects—”
“He had no private effects.”
“But surely some personal articles—”
“He lived very simply.”
Marek said, “May I see his room?”
“I am sorry, that is not possible.”
“But I would greatly appreciate it if—”
“Brother Marcel lived in the mill. His room has been there for many years.”
“Ah.” The mill was now under control of Oliver’s troops. They could not go there, at least not at the moment.
“But perhaps I can help you. Tell me, what was your urgent request?” the monk asked. He spoke casually, but Marek was immediately cautious.
“It was a private matter,” Marek said. “I cannot speak of it.”
“There is nothing private here,” the monk said. He was edging toward the door. Marek had the distinct feeling that he was going to raise an alarm.
“It was a request from Magister Edwardus.”
“Magister Edwardus!” The monk’s manner completely changed. “Why did you not say so? And what are you to Magister Edwardus?”
“Faith, we are his assistants.”
“Certes?”
“In deed, it is so.”
“Why did you not say it? Magister Edwardus is welcome here, for he was performing a service for the Abbot when he was taken by Oliver.”
“Ah.”
“Come with me now at once,” he said. “The Abbot will wish to see you.”
“But we have—”
“The Abbot will wish it. Come!”
:
Back in the sunlight, Marek noticed how many more soldiers in green and black were now in the monastery courtyards. And these soldiers were not lounging; they were watchful, battle-ready.
The Abbot’s house was small, made of ornately carved wood, and located in a far corner of the monastery. They were led inside to a small wood-paneled anteroom, where an older monk, hunched and heavy as a toad, sat before a closed door.
“Is my Lord Abbot within?”
“Faith, he is advising a penitent now.”
From the adjacent room, they heard a rhythmic creaking sound.
“How long will he keep her at her prayers?” the monk asked.
“It may be a goodly while,” the toad said. “She is recidive. And her sins are oft repeated.”
“I would you make known these worthy men to our Lord Abbot,” the monk said, “for they bring news of Edwardus de Johnes.”
“Be assured I shall tell him,” the toad said in a bored tone. But Marek caught the gleam of sudden interest in the old man’s eyes. Some meaning had registered.
“It is nigh on terce,” the toad said, glancing up at the sun. “Will your guests dine on our simple fare?”
“Many thanks, but no, we shall—” Chris coughed. Kate poked Marek in the back. Marek said, “We shall, if it is not a great trouble.”
“By the grace of God, you are welcome.”
They were starting to leave for the dining room when a young monk ran breathlessly into the room. “My Lord Arnaut is coming! He will see the Abbot at once!”
The toad jumped to his feet and said to them, “Be you gone now.” And he opened a side door.
:
Which was how they found themselves