The Nameless Day. Sara Douglass
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Thomas checked back through the records for the 1320s, trying to find when the friar had first arrived…to his amazement and increasing unease, Thomas discovered that the friar had been moving in and out of St Angelo’s all through the 1320s.
All without apparent permission, and always twice each year at the same time.
In late 1327 the incumbent prior had died, and when, five months after the new prior had been elected, this troubling friar had again departed without explanation, there was a record that the new prior had requested an interview with the friar on his return, no doubt to demand an explanation.
And there, at Lammas in 1328, was the record showing the interview had taken place on the friar’s return. The only comment on the outcome of this interview was, to Thomas’ mind, an outrageous statement that the friar was to be allowed to come and go as he pleased.
No friar came and went as he pleased! His individual interests were always subordinated to those of the Order.
Thomas checked back yet further, scattering rolls of parchment about in such a haphazard manner that, had the brother librarian been present, Thomas surely would have earned an angry hiss.
The friar had arrived at St Angelo’s in late 1295.
Scattering more rolls, Thomas searched forward until he found the last reference to the friar.
1348. The man had presumably died in the pestilence which had swept Christendom that year.
Thomas sat back, thinking over what he’d learned.
For some fifty-three years this friar had come and gone from St Angelo’s twice yearly with no explanation and no permission from his prior.
During those fifty-three years five priors had died, and each incoming prior—the last being Prior Bertrand in 1345—had called the friar into their private cell to ask for explanations and, presumably, to mete out discipline.
In all five cases the results of the interview were much the same: the friar was to be allowed to come and go as he pleased, no matter the inconvenience to the friary.
Thomas wondered what threats had been made in those five meetings.
Eventually, after carefully rolling up the parchments and placing them back in their slots, Thomas went to see Prior Bertrand.
He felt both curious and nauseous in equal degrees, and Thomas knew that he’d stumbled upon something of great import.
Prior Bertrand was again sinking down to his knees before the cross in his cell when the tap sounded at the door.
Sighing, Bertrand rose stiffly, one hand on his bed for support. “Come.”
Brother Thomas entered, bowing slightly as he caught Bertrand’s eye.
“Brother Thomas, what can I do for you this late at night?”
“I have come to ask a favour of you, Brother Prior.”
“Yes?”
“I would like to ask about Brother Wynkyn de Worde.”
Bertrand stared, unable for the moment to act or speak.
Wynkyn de Worde! He’d prayed never to have that name spoken in his hearing again!
In return, Thomas watched the old man before him with narrowed, speculative eyes.
“Brother Prior? Are you well?”
“Yes…yes. Ah, Brother Thomas, perhaps you will sit down.”
Thomas took the stool, as he had on the night of his arrival, and Bertrand again took the bed. “May I ask, Brother Thomas, why you ask about Brother Wynkyn?”
Thomas hesitated and Bertrand shifted uncomfortably.
“I have been reading through Saint Angelo’s registers, Brother Prior, and it appears to me that Brother Wynkyn must have been a considerably disruptive influence to the peace of the friary. I am curious as to why the brother was allowed to continue such behaviour for over fifty years without a single act of discipline from the prior. I—”
“Are you here to examine me, Brother Thomas?”
“Of course not, Brother Prior, but—”
“Are you here to demand explanations of me, Brother Thomas?”
“No! I merely wished to—”
“Do you think that I exist to satisfy your every curiosity, Brother Thomas?”
“Brother Prior, I apologise if I—”
“Your tone carries no nuance of apology or regret, Brother Thomas. I am deeply shocked that you think you have a right to demand explanations! Brother Thomas, you are no longer the man you once were! How dare you bludgeon your way into my—”
“I did not bludgeon!”
“—private devotions to order me to satisfy your curiosity.”
“It is not curiosity, Brother Prior,” Thomas was now leaning forward on his stool, his eyes angry, “but a desire to understand why such an extraordinary breach of discipline was allowed for so long!”
Bertrand paused. “I think Prior General Thorseby was right to be concerned about you, Thomas. Perhaps you are not suited to the rigorous discipline of the Order after all.”
Thomas sat back, shocked and bitter at the threat. About to speak a furious retort, he suddenly caught himself, and bowed his head in contrition.
“I apologise deeply, Brother Prior. My behaviour has been unpardonable. I do beg your forgiveness, and ask of you suitable penance.”
Bertrand watched the man carefully. His contrition did seem genuine—although it was a trifle hasty—and perhaps it was not surprising that such a man as Thomas should still lapse into the habits of his old life from time to time.
“You must learn more discipline, Brother Thomas.”
“Yes, Brother Prior.”
“Blessed Gregory’s funeral mass is in five days’ time. I would that until that day you spend the hours from Prime until Nones in penitential prayer in the chapel. After dinner and until Vespers you will take yourself down to the streets about the marketplace and offer to wash the feet of every whore you can find.”
Thomas’ head flew back up, his brown eyes once more furious.
Bertrand held his stare.
Thomas finally dropped his gaze. “Forgive me, Brother Prior,” he whispered.
“You must learn humility, Brother Thomas.”
“I know it, I know it.”
“Then learn it!”
Thomas’ head and shoulders jerked. “Yes, Brother Prior.”
“You will attend Gregory’s funeral mass with the rest of our community,” the prior continued, “and then you will continue your penance until the day of the conclave.”
Thomas stiffened, but did not speak.
“You may leave, Brother Thomas.”
Thomas nodded. “Thank you, Brother Prior.” He rose, and walked towards the door.
Just as he opened it, Bertrand spoke again. “Brother Thomas?”
Thomas turned back.
“Brother Thomas…it has been many a year since I spoke of Brother Wynkyn. Now I am an old man, and I should hesitate no longer. Once our new Holy Father is elected, and when you have completed your penance—and this penance you must complete—you may seek audience with me, and I will speak to you again. You may go.”
Thomas bowed, and closed the door behind him.
Later