“His name was Oliver de Penne.”
“Why would he have been offered Buckland? Why not an abbey nearer his home? Why was he sent so far from the pope?” asked Simon, his eyes narrowing as he tried to understand.
“Why Buckland? Maybe the pope thought it would be far enough away from any old temptations, from anything in his past that could persuade him to stray.”
“How do you mean, a woman?”
The old monk smiled gently. “There are many temptations, bailiff. I do not know. Maybe, yes, a woman. Who can tell?”
“Do you have any idea why he was so worried about being attacked on the road?”
“Worried about being attacked?” The old man seemed genuinely surprised at the question.
“Yes. When I met you all on the road near Furnshill, he seemed very worried about being attacked. He kept asking me to join you on your journey and seemed annoyed when I refused.”
“Perhaps,” said the monk, shrugging. “I think many people are anxious when they are in new lands, when they don’t know the roads and the villages. I am sure that he was simply hoping to have the company of a man who knew the area.”
Simon thought for a minute. “Possibly,” he admitted. Now he thought about it, could he not have been wrong?
Maybe it was just the natural fear of a man of peace in a new and seemingly threatening country? No, even as he wondered, he knew that the abbot’s fear was more than the normal caution of a traveller. It seemed to be a deep-rooted terror, almost as if he expected to be attacked. “But, surely, if he had been a knight and was proud he would not have been so fearful of a new land? He must have travelled before.”
“Ah, yes, bailiff. Perhaps he had.”
Simon sighed. “Can any of you remember anything else about him? Anything that could help me?” None of them moved. They sat staring at him in silence, apart from the older monk, Matthew, who gazed imperturbably at the ceiling.
Simon held up his hands in a gesture of disgust. “Is there nothing more you can tell me? There must be something, something in his past that could give us a hint why this should have happened to him. I cannot believe that he was killed for no reason – even a madman would have had to have a reason to kill an abbot.” He had no answer. The monks sat still and quiet, staring in their shock and fear. “In that case I can do no more here. Good day!”
He strode out angrily and paused outside in the long, dark-panelled corridor. He knew that they were confused and worried after the attack and the death of the abbot, but surely there must be a reason for his death? It was inconceivable, surely, that it was just a random attack? And one of them must know why he had been so scared of being attacked on the road.
As he put his hand on the latch to let himself out, he heard his name called, and on turning he was surprised to find that David and Matthew had followed him out. He nodded curtly, and with a questioning eyebrow raised.
“Bailiff, we will be continuing on our journey soon.
Before we go, Matthew would like to have a word with you,“ said David, and went back into the room.
Simon stood and waited. The monk seemed not to mind the silence, staring gravely at the bailiff.
“Shall we go outside, bailiff? It seems sad to be indoors like rats when the sun is shining, especially after the rains of the last two years.”
Matthew waited while Simon opened the door and held it open for him, then led the way out into the lane and slowly strolled up it meditatively, as if unaware of Simon’s presence alongside.
“There are some things, bailiff, which are better left unsaid in front of my brothers,” he began quietly. “They are unused to the secular world. Even David, who has only been in the order for a matter of a few years, has not really had much dealing with the outside world. This whole affair has upset them all very deeply, as you can imagine. That is why I stopped them all running after the robbers. David wanted to give chase, but I stopped him. I thought the others could be put into danger – and I thought the robbers might kill de Penne if they knew they were being hunted. It seemed sensible to get help instead.” He sighed. “I was wrong, it seems. Perhaps if we had given chase we could have saved him.” He stopped suddenly and turned to the moors reflectively. “They are magnificent, aren’t they?” he said as he stared at them blankly.
Glancing past him, Simon nodded, but then, wanting to keep the monk talking, he said, “So you think that his past would shock the others?” and was pleased to see the quick, suspicious frown that Matthew shot at him.
“His past? Well…” he paused, seeming undecided as he considered. “Yes, quite possibly, but not for the reason you think.” They started to walk again. “You see, the Church is a simple place for many. They think it is dedicated to the worship of God, and to the improvement of people who want to dedicate themselves to God. My brothers know that, and that is all they wish to know. I am different, because I was called late in my life. I have been many things, seen many places and peoples.” He laughed briefly, a sudden gust of laughter. “I have even been what they would call a pirate!”
“So?”
“So, my friend, I know what the world is like. They do not. I try to be humble and assume the best in people, but always I have to struggle with the cynicism that I developed in my youth. It is hard, sometimes. So, when I was called to become a monk, I felt that I could live the life of seclusion well and help others, but I can not totally believe the reasoning behind all of the orders from the church. They do not all come straight from God. Some come from men. The other monks all accept any order as if it comes from God without any human interference.”
“I don’t think I quite-”
“No, my apologies for rambling. You are right. What I am trying to say is that my friends cannot comprehend what life at Avignon is like. I can, because I was born in the secular world and lived in it for many years. And then, when I was called, it was at first to become a senior monk, joining an ancient and noble order, where it was essential that honour and honesty should be upheld. It was only quite recently that I joined this order, my friend, and I spent my first years at Avignon. Bailiff, the pope is Christ’s vicar on earth. He should be the leading Christian – pious, faithful and honourable. But this is not always so. You see, Holy Mother Church is organised and run by men, and they are as fallible as any other men. Control of the Holy See carries with it a great deal of power and wealth, so within it are many who wish to usurp that power. Men come and are promoted for money; men are given indulgences for gold. And sometimes, when the pope wants to allow it, a ruler can purchase a position for a friend. And that friend becomes strong and even more wealthy by his new position. But if the pope then changes, if the old pope dies and a new one takes over, then those men in power can suddenly have their wealth and authority removed, and they are left to find a new position.”
“Yes. So do you think that’s what happened to de Penne?”
The monk laughed again. “I have no doubt. I think he was a favourite of King Philip of France and the last pope. He nearly told me as much one night when he had drunk too much. He was miserable, bemoaning his fate, and complaining about his misfortune. He said that he had been a member of a great order, and that he had performed a service for Pope Clement, and that this was the reason for his position of power, but that the new pope disliked him, and had him removed from the papal court. Hence his move to Buckland.”
“Did he say what this service was?”
“No, my friend. Nor did I care. When you have spent some time at Avignon you tend to ignore the moaning and wailing of people who feel hard done by. There are too many who feel just that. Too many forget their vows of poverty and chastity in these harsh times.”