The Raven in the Foregate by Ellis Peters Read Free Book Online

interrupt his saying of the office, he preached somewhat stern sermons,
conducted his services reverently, visited the sick, exhorted the backsliding.
His comfort to the ailing was austere, even chilling, and his penances heavier
than those to which his flock was accustomed, but he did all that his cure required
of him. He also took jealous care of all the perquisites of his office, tithe
and tilth, to the extent that one of his neighbours in the fields was
complaining of having half his headland ploughed up, and Aelgar was protesting
that he had been ordered to plough more closely, for the waste of ground was
blameworthy.
    The few boys who had been learning a smattering of
letters from Father Adam, and had continued their lessons under his successor,
grew less and less willing to attend, and muttered to their parents that they
were beaten now for the least error, let alone a real offence.
    “It was a mistake,” said Brother Jerome loftily, “ever
to let them run wild, as Father Adam did. They feel a proper curb now as
affliction, instead of fair usage. What says the Rule on this head? That boys
or youths who cannot yet understand how great a punishment excommunication is,
must be punished for their offences either by fasting, or by sharp stripes, for
their own good. The priest does very properly by them.”
    “I cannot regard a simple mistake in letters,”
retorted Brother Paul, up in arms for lads no older than his own charges, “as
an offence. Offence argues a will to offend, and these children answer as best
they know, having no will but to do well.”
    “The offence,” said Jerome pompously, “is in the
neglect and inattention which caused them to be imperfect in answering. Those
who attend diligently will be able to answer without fault.”
    “Not when they are already afraid,” snapped Brother
Paul, and fled the argument for fear of his own temper. Jerome had a way of
presenting his pious face as a target, and Paul, who like most big, powerful
men could be astonishingly gentle and tender with the helpless, like his
youngest pupils, was only too well aware of what his fists could do to an
opponent of his own size, let alone a puny creature like Jerome.
    It was more than a week before the matter came to the
notice of Abbot Radulfus, and even then it was a relatively minor complaint
that set the affair in motion. For Father Ailnoth had publicly accused Jordan
Achard, the Foregate baker, of delivering short-weight loaves, and Jordan,
rightly pricked in his professional pride, meant to rebut the charge at all
costs.
    “And a lucky man he is,” said Erwald the provost
heartily,”that he’s charged with the one thing every soul in the Foregate will
swear is false, for he gives just measure and always has, if he does nothing
else justly in his life. If he’d been charged with fathering one or two of the
recent bastards in these parts, he’d have had good cause to sing very low. But
he bakes good bread, and never cheats on the weight. And how the priest came by
this error is a mystery, but Jordan wants blood for it, and he has a fluent
mouth on him that might well speak up usefully for others less bold.”
    So it was that the provost of the Foregate, backed by
Jordan the baker and one or two more of the notables of the parish, came to ask
audience of Abbot Radulfus in chapter on the eighteenth day of December.
    “I have asked you here into private with me,” said the
abbot, when they had withdrawn at his request into the parlour in his lodging,
“so that the daily duties of the brothers may not be disrupted. For I see that
you have much to discuss, and I would like you to speak freely.
    Now we have time enough. Master Provost, you have my
attention. I desire the prosperity and happiness of the Foregate, as you do.”
    His very use of the courtesy title, to which Erwald
had no official right, was meant as an invitation, and as such accepted.
    “Father Abbot,”