Isle of Glass by Judith Tarr Read Free Book Online

tonight in bed. Asleep. That’s an order, Brother Alfred.”
    “Yes, Domne.”
    “And don’t look so sulky. One obeys with a glad heart, the
Rule says. Or at least, one tries to. Start trying. That’s an order, too.”
    “Yes, Domne.” Alf was not quite able to keep his lips from
twitching. “Immediately, Domne. Gladly, Domne.”
    “Don’t add lying to the rest of your sins.” But Morwin’s
glare lacked force. “See me tonight before you go to bed. There are messages I
want to give to Aylmer.”
    o0o
    In spite of his promise to Alun, Jehan dragged himself
through that long day. No one seemed to know that Brother Alf was leaving, nor
to care. Monks came and went often enough in so large an abbey.
    But never so far alone, through unknown country, and against
their will besides.
    At last he could bear it no longer. He gathered his courage
and sought the lion in his den.
    By good fortune, Abbot Morwin was alone, bent over the rolls
of the abbey. He straightened as Jehan entered. “This is stiff work for old
bones,” he said.
    Jehan drew a deep breath. The Abbot did not seem annoyed to
see him. Nor did he look surprised. “Domne,” he said, “you’re sending Brother
Alf away.”
    Morwin nodded neutrally. That, in the volatile Abbot, was
ominous.
    “Please, Domne. I know he has to go. But must he go alone?”
    “What makes you think that?”
    Jehan found that he could not breathe properly.
“Then—then—he’ll have company?”
    “I’ve been considering it.” Morwin indicated a chair. “Here,
boy. Stop shaking and sit down.” He leaned back himself, toying with the simple
silver cross he always wore. Jehan stared, half- mesmerized by the glitter of
it. “It’s as well you came when you did; I was about to send for you. I’ve been
thinking about that last letter from your father.”
    The novice almost groaned aloud. The last thing he wanted to
hear now was his father’s opinion of his life in St. Ruan’s.
    But Morwin had no mercy. “Remember what Earl Rogier said.
That your life was your own, and you could ruin it by taking vows here if that
was what you wanted. But he asked you first to try something else. He suggested
the Templars. That’s extreme; still, the more I think, the better his advice
seems to be. I’ve decided to take it in my own way. I’m sending you to Bishop
Aylmer.”
    Bishop Aylmer...Bishop Aylmer. “I’m going with Brother Alf!”
It was a strangled shout.
    “Well now,” Morwin said, “that would make sense, wouldn’t
it?"
    Jehan hardly heard him. “I’m going with Brother Alf. He told
me I couldn’t. He’s going to be surprised.”
    “I doubt it. I told him a little while ago. He was angry.”
    “Angry, Domne?”
    Morwin smiled. “He said I was hanging for the sheep instead
of for the lamb— and brought you these to travel in.”
    On the table among the heavy codices was a bundle. Jehan’s
fingers remembered the weight and the feel of it—leather, cloth, the long
hardness of a sword. “My old clothes...but I’ve grown!”
    “Try them. And afterward, find Alf. He’ll tell you what you
need to do.”
    o0o
    Miraculously everything fit, though the garments had been
made for him just before he met Brother Alf on the road, over a year ago, and
he had grown half a head since. But Alf’s skill with the needle was legendary.
The boots alone seemed new, of good leather, with room enough to grow in.
    It felt strange to be dressed like a nobleman again. He
wished there were a mirror in the dormitory, and said a prayer to banish
vanity. “Not,” he added, “that my face is anything to brag of.”
    “Amen.”
    He whipped about, hand to sword hilt. A stranger stood
there, a tall young fellow who carried himself like a prince. He smiled wryly
as Jehan stared, and said, “Good day, my lord.”
    “Brother Alf!" Jehan took him in and laughed for
wonder. “You look splendid.”
    “ Vanitas vanitatum ,”Alf intoned dolefully. “‘Vanity
of vanities, all is