The only reason any man would be sent here was for committing a sin of remarkable evil. That was the thing. Cryspyn knew what he had done: it would be good to know what crime that sad figure Luke had committed. Cryspyn had some shrewd suspicions. He had seen Luke giving a sermon, and could not help but notice that the fellow appeared to have eyes only for the women. None of the men merited a speech, apparently. That probably pointed to his past offence. Not that it affected the way that the Prior treated him. As far as Cryspyn was concerned, any man who was sent here to live deserved his sympathy, and that was why as soon as day broke, he had sent one of the lay brothers to check on the man and make sure that he was all right. The tide was flowing early today, so the man should be able to cross on foot to St Elidius and Bechiek. Another was sent the other way to see that the chaplain at St Sampson was safe.
The chaplain was fine, as was the priest at Bechiek, but the matter that was causing Cryspyn’s irritation and dissatisfaction with his lot, was the report that Brother Luke had been snoring, drunk again. The servant had been unable to wake him. Instead he left Luke lying on his palliasse, the vomit pooling by his head. It was not enough that the fellow should have arrived here unwanted and without explanation; now he was rapidly turning into an alcoholic who had no respect for his chapel or those who visited it. St Elidius was the focus for a small but loyal group of pilgrims each year. The priory could ill afford to lose them just because of a wine-sotten fool. Cryspyn would speak to Luke. If he didn’t mend his ways, Luke would be removed again. Cryspyn would see to it.
His unhappy thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking at his door. With a bellow he ordered his visitor to enter and stop trying to ruin a perfectly good piece of wood with his banging.
‘You look surprised to see me, Prior.’
‘I am. It’s a long enough while since you came here, David,’ Cryspyn said coolly. His manner, he hoped, indicated a lack of welcome, but he knew he couldn’t conceal his interest. This fellow was, after all, the leading man on the island after Cryspyn himself. David was the source of many of the disputes, the cause of much of the hostility between St Nicholas’s Priory and La Val.
The reeve was well-known to him, of course. David was responsible to the priory for most issues because the vill was a part of the community of St Nicholas, which meant that legally the people who lived within it were all owned by the priory; David no less than any other man. Yet Cryspyn was not keen on too much involvement with the folk of the vill. There was always the risk of temptation. Where there were women, there were dangers for a man sworn to celibacy, and Cryspyn had some youngsters like Luke who were potentially at risk of being tempted beyond their meagre wills’ power to refuse. Then again, there were other reasons why a man like Cryspyn disliked David. No, he didn’t dislike the man, that was too soft and generous a term. It was more that he despised the man. David stood for many things that the Prior loathed. Although Cryspyn had no proof, he was certain David led the men in occasional piratical raids.
‘I know you don’t want too much to do with me,’ David said with a flash of his yellowing teeth. ‘I might pollute you and your little chamber here. But I thought you’d like to know that we found a man on the beach today.’
‘Christ Jesus, give me strength!’ Cryspyn muttered, and let his head fall into his hands. He went to his chair and stood by it, his back to David. When he eventually turned and sat, he fixed his most contemptuous glare at the reeve. ‘So tell me how he died, then. Not that you’d have been there to see, I don’t suppose!’
‘What do you mean?’ David asked in a hurt tone of voice.
‘Don’t whine at me, you pathetic piece of bird dropping! You murdered this fellow, didn’t you? Why? Did he possess a cargo you craved? Let me guess: it was a tun or more of wine, yes? And you met him on the open seas and killed him.’ His modulated speech hardened. ‘Don’t come here to lie to me, Reeve. I know about you and your piratical companions! You murdered him and now you want me to bury him for you, is that it?’
‘I am offended that you should say such things, or think them, Prior,’ David said.
‘Maybe you are. In your intolerable pride you thought you had hidden your crimes from everyone, did you?’
‘Prior, he is alive. He is recovering in the cottage of Isok,’ David said with quiet dignity. ‘You will find him there. It was my duty as reeve to tell you, and I have done so.’
Cryspyn was so astonished, he could say nothing as David left, walking from the room with a pained expression.
It looked to Cryspyn as though the man had a severe toothache. He sincerely hoped he did.
Chapter Seven
It was cold on the island of St Elidius, and Brother Luke woke to the sound of water slapping at the rocky shore. It made him remember the meeting last night. At the memory, he began to sob anew.
Christ’s pain, but he hated this place. It was miserable. No one here apart from the swine-like peasants who infested this far-western group of islands, and they were good for nothing, not even rutting. The one woman, Tedia, with the soulful eyes and soft breasts thrusting at the thin material of her tunic, she would have been worth a rattle, but as soon as Luke thought he had her convinced, up she’d jumped like a rabbit seeing the ferret, and she bolted. He could almost imagine the ferret where she had been sitting, a mouthful of white fur from her arse in his mouth. Luke would dearly have loved to get his own mouth about her arse, but she obviously didn’t want him. There was still Brosia, but Luke had noticed the looks which David threw his way. No, he’d best leave her alone for a while.
This was the usual process of his waking. He would curse the place first, for he loathed and detested it. Then he would dream idly of Tedia and one or two other women, before he set himself a task or two during the day. Two was the most, because so much of his day was spent sitting at the highest point of St Elidius, staring eastwards towards the mainland and home.
It wasn’t his fault he was here. Any man would have succumbed to the luscious nuns in that convent. He couldn’t help the fact that he still had warm blood beating in his veins, and yet the Bishop had made his feelings very clear on the matter. Luke had been sent here in exile. He could repent his crimes in solitude, over a long period, for it would be a very long period, Bishop Walter said frostily, before he could be brought back to civilisation. All Luke had done was make one nun pregnant. And then there was Ireland too, but Luke didn’t want to think about that right now.
At first he hadn’t believed that any man could be so cruel. Sure, as the priest at the Belstone nunnery, he shouldn’t have got the nun with child. But it seemed impossible that he had been sent here to die. He was only young, and he’d had so much life in him. All he had wanted was feminine company. There was nothing wrong in that for most men, and he knew perfectly well that other priests were allowed their concubines. They were not ejected, forced into exile. Why should he not be allowed back? Yes, fine, she was a nun, but that wasn’t his fault. He would argue that the Church had sent him to Belstone to perform an impossible task, expecting him to be immune to her attractions. Any priest would have desired her; most would have tupped her. It wasn’t his fault!
He felt the familiar gloom assailing him. It was so unreasonable. And now, here he was, on this miserable little island of Elidius in the middle of the sea. No women to speak of, and few ships. The ones that did stop at Ennor were no good for him. He couldn’t just walk out of here and ask for a ride. The shipmaster would laugh at him, and Luke had had enough of ridicule. He wouldn’t try that.
This was why he had taken to drinking strong wine at midday and snoozing through the afternoon. He had been told to mend his ways by the Prior, but what was the point? He was here to die, so why behave like a martyr? He was depressed, and he saw no reason to hide the fact. His last chance had been last night, but that had come to nothing. All he had wanted was a ship to take him away from this place. He could have gone to the mainland, maybe even to Guyenne, but no! He would get no help from Thomas, the bastard!