“Well, good day.” Augustine turned to go into Sister Janet’s office, leaving Koesler alone in the corridor.
Strange, strange man, thought Koesler. After all those heated words in the sacristy, he had expected discomfiture, at least, in their relationship for the remainder of this workshop.
On the contrary, Father Augustine seemed to possess a most rare and uncanny ability to compartmentalize. Able to work himself into a sanctimonious frenzy then have almost no memory of it. Turn the outlaw in, to the authorities, immediately followed by washing his hands of the whole matter. Even slow to remember what it was all about.
Koesler chuckled. He’d met Augustine for the first time last evening. The very next day Augustine accuses Koesler of engaging in an unauthorized ecumenical service. The poor Trappist must think Koesler to be utterly without regard for Church law.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Koesler’s life revolved around the Church. He read ecclesiastical periodicals voraciously and faithfully. In short, his grasp of theological trends and developments was easily as up-to-date as anyone’s.
Thus, in the matter of concelebrating with an Episcopal priest, Koesler knew he was on arguably solid ground. Nothing now stood in the way of Rome’s recognition of the validity of Anglican orders except what to do about women who wanted to be priests. It was seen as inappropriate to make the declaration of unity while the Anglican Church allowed women priests and the Episcopal Church had a female bishop. However, none of that had anything to do with historical accuracy and true doctrine.
The way Rome felt about women priests, let alone women bishops, it was not likely the current Pope would put his stamp of approval on the validity of Anglican orders, no matter how valid they really were.
In any case, the incident this morning between himself, Augustine, and Benbow was revealing.
Obviously Augustine was strongly wed to the letter of the law. Yet to be determined was whether he inflicted this tight interpretation, this legalistic rigidity, on himself as well. Over the years, Koesler had met any number of people eager to demand of others slavish obedience to rules and regulations. But when it came to themselves, they were much more understanding and permissive. Of course there were those whose legalism applied as equally to themselves as to others. In which camp was Augustine? Perhaps time would tell.
One thing about Augustine was certain: He could be cruel. And, indeed, this morning he had been brutal to David Benbow and, by extension, to Martha Benbow. Augustine had shown no sensitivity whatsoever in the delicate matter of liturgical practice.
As he strolled the manicured campus of Marygrove College, Koesler wondered about this mean streak revealed by the Trappist. How strong was it? To what extremes could it lead?
Last night, when the charade of Krieg’s murder was played out, Augustine was the only character in the psychodrama who never became a suspect. That was due solely to his being very much under the weather. What if it had not been make-believe? What if Krieg actually had been murdered? What if Augustine had not been taken ill? Or had he really been ill?
Did anyone else on this “faculty” know about Augustine’s quick temper and his churlishly cruel streak? If the others knew, would Augustine have been a prime suspect?
Interesting, if moot, questions. But purely hypothetical. As far as any of them knew, Krieg-who had not as yet this morning deigned to arrive on campus-was alive and well. There had been no murder. There were no suspects.
So, Koesler decided to forget about it. For all practical purposes, the incident was over and done with. Undoubtedly, the Benbows would not return to attend any future liturgies. They had been pretty effectively scared off.
Augustine thought he had learned something about Koesler. But the inductive reasoning process, arguing from one example to a general principle, would prove incorrect. Under ordinary circumstances, Koesler was anything but a lawbreaker.
On the other hand, Augustine was an interesting study.
Koesler had no first-hand knowledge of current monastic practices. He wondered if the monks still observed a “chapter of faults.” For centuries, members of most religious orders, men and women, held a daily “chapter of faults,” during which individuals openly and publicly accused themselves of violations of anything from the Ten Commandments to their monastic rule of life. And, as if that weren’t enough humiliation, others in the community were invited, again openly and publicly, to add to the accusations any faults that the individual might have forgotten, overlooked, or been too ashamed to own up to.
If that practice was still in place, Koesler was grateful he was not a member of Augustine’s community. Without doubt, Augustine would make certain there was hell to pay for everyone.
Father Koesler had no scheduled duties to perform in this workshop until early afternoon. He had toyed with the idea of returning to his parish, if only to go through the mail and get a few other chores finished-make it a little easier on himself when these five committed days were completed. But experience had taught that when one stepped into one’s rectory office, one thing led to another. A whole day’s work could snowball from a simple, innocent visit to the office to open the morning mail.
All in all, he decided to enjoy the gorgeous fall weather, walking through the cool shadows of Marygrove’s acres of trees.
11
By anyone’s standards, the schedule for the first day of this workshop was undemanding.
Apparently, whoever had set it up-Jack Regan? — realized that with a five-day conference, there was no great call to cram in nonstop events. The schedule provided ample time for students and faculty to get to know one another informally, for the faculty to have the leisure to fully develop their material, for the students to have every opportunity of tapping the faculty for all possible information, suggestions, guidance, and encouragement.
Morning was occupied largely with orientation-type activities: a tour of the campus, sale of books written by members of the faculty as well as some put out by P.G. Press. Sister Janet had the students gather in small group sessions for informal discussions on the nature of religious mystery novels.
All of this was punctuated with coffee and, at the earliest session, doughnuts.
There was only one major event in the afternoon. It was held in Alumni Hall. Since the group consisted of only 150–200 students, the large hall was shrunken by a room divider.
This event was the first and, until the final session, the only time the entire faculty would appear together. Each member of the faculty presented a synopsis of what he or she intended to teach and treat in the individual classes during the week.
Father Koesler, as the one and only “resource person,” sat with the faculty on the platform. But, since he would not be formally teaching any classes, he was not expected to make a presentation. As far as he was concerned, he was auditing this session.
He found the present gathering fascinating due to the extraordinary interactions that had already gone on between the various members of the panel. Koesler had had the leisure to study the interplay since he was, in effect, a spectator.
This was the first any of them had seen of Klaus Krieg since supper last night. Koesler wondered if the students could detect the tension flowing back and forth across the stage. It was, at best, uneven, since Father Augustine had not played any role at all in Krieg’s little psychodrama. Fortunately, in a sense, he’d been spared the emotional investment that make-believe fiasco had demanded. In all probability Augustine had been told what had happened. Still, that was in no way comparable to having gone through it.