The Abbot's Agreement Read Online Free PDF

be so.”
    “I am told that you took a boar’s head to the edge of the wood, near to where John was found,” I said to Brother Gerleys as we returned to the novices’ chamber.
    “Aye.”
    “We will see it tomorrow, after terce,” I said, “to learn if the birds have found it yet.”
    “’Tis an odd thing,” the novice-master then said, “about John. Most did not see, for a man might swoon to look upon a face so ravaged as was John’s, but when we covered the lad with a black linen shroud this morning, and took him to his grave, I saw water leaking from his mouth and nose… or what remained of the poor lad’s mouth and nose.”
    His words caught my attention. “Water, you say? Not blood?”
    “Nay. ’Twas but a trickle, but ’twas water.”
    When I turned the novice to discover the wounds in his back I had not noticed water, or any other fluid, draining from his nose or mouth. Of course, I was not seeking such a thing, and after I saw the lacerations in John’s back and the slashes in his habit I had eyes only for these signs of death. There may have been water I did not then see, but if so, from whence had it come?
    “This water you saw, did it appear while the novice was laid out upon his back, or when he was turned?”
    “He was upon his back before the altar. And ’twas but a trickle. We have buried several brothers of this house recently, but I never before saw water issue from a dead man’s mouth. You think it due to the manner of his death… being stabbed so many times?”
    “Nay. I’ve seen men slain with dagger and sword, but none was ever found with water coming from his lips.”
    Brother Gerleys told Osbert and Henry to remain in his chamber until his return, then walked with us to the guest house. The way took us past one of the abbey fishponds, its calm waters reflecting the stars and the sliver of new moon in the fading light. The tranquil scene belied the wickedness which had visited the abbey.
    The guest-master showed us to our chamber in the guest house and told us that a lay brother would soon arrive with a meal. The monk spoke true, for the words were but out of his mouth when two men appeared at the door with a bowl of water for washing hands, a roasted capon, maslin loaves, and ale.
    Arthur and I ate by the light of a single cresset. Arthur was silent but for the smacking of lips and licking of fingers as he consumed his portion of the fowl and loaves. Nor did I speak. Brother Gerleys’ tale of water leaking from John Whytyng’s torn lips as he lay upon his bier would not leave my mind. As it happened, the announcement also puzzled Arthur. He drank the last of his ale, pushed his bench back from the table, and unburdened his mind.
    “Seen men dead before, but never seen one what leaked.”
    “And his wounds did not,” I replied.
    Arthur peered at me quizzically.
    “Yesterday,” I said, “when we found the lad, do you remember? There was no blood upon his habit, nor upon the soil and leaves beneath him, nor even upon his flesh.”
    “How could that be?” Arthur asked. “Even was he slain somewhere else and left where the birds found ’im, there would be blood upon ’is habit.”
    “Unless he was already dead when his assailant plunged a dagger into him. Dead men do not bleed.”
    “Oh,” Arthur said thoughtfully. “Then why stab a dead man three times?”
    “Perhaps he was yet alive when the felon pierced him.”
    “But you said… would he not then bleed?”
    “Aye,” I said. “Much.”
    “You speak in riddles,” Arthur complained.
    “Nay. I show you a riddle. And I have no solution for it.”
    The guest-master had seen that a blaze was laid upon the guest house hearth to warm us, but this fire now burned low. I placed another log upon the embers and sought my bed.
    Whenever I share a sleeping chamber with Arthur the fellow always falls to sleep before me. He snores like an ungreased millwheel and this makes slumber difficult for any near. So I lay abed,