I bowed respectfully to the abbot as he walked past me to his hall. If he noticed he gave no sign.
Brother Alnett also bowed and turned, prompted more by the departing abbot’s fading footsteps than the sight of the abbot’s back.
“M’lord abbot,” the monk said when he was sure his superior was beyond hearing, “is an even-tempered man. He is always angry. But he did grant permission for you to restore my sight. Will you do so? This day?”
“Nay. Tomorrow will be soon enough. I am weary from the day’s travel. My hand may not be steady, and I must sort through the instruments I have with me to see if any will serve in place of couching needles.”
The monk seemed disappointed at the delay, but had borne his affliction so long that another day would seem but small abeyance.
Brother Alnett sent a lay brother with straw pallets for Arthur and Uctred. Our chamber in the guest-house had already a bed where I might seek my rest. We were served a light supper of pease pottage, maslin loaf, and ale, and because the days grew long there was enough light after supper that I could sort through my instruments for lancets and thin scalpels which might serve in place of couching needles.
The sky was yet aglow when we three took to our beds, and soon Arthur’s rumbling snore filled the chamber. Uctred duly joined the chorus, adding his tenor to Arthur’s bass. I reviewed in my mind’s eye what I had seen of couching for cataracts while a student in Paris, planning the next morning’s work. The effort was not conducive to slumber, and I heard the sacrist ring the bell for vigils before I slept.
Brother Alnett appeared at the guest-house as soon as Lauds was sung. The man was eager to undergo treatment for his affliction; more eager than I to venture the work. I have heard scholars suggest that St Paul might have suffered cataracts — the “thorn in the flesh” he prayed unsuccessfully for the Lord Christ to remove. Now I spoke a silent prayer that my hand might be guided to good success this day, and Brother Alnett’s burden be lifted, even so the apostle’s was not. Perhaps St Paul required a surgeon.
I chose the abbey infirmary for the work. While I had brought instruments, I had not thought to bring herbs and salves. These the infirmarer could supply, though, in truth, few are needed to couch a cataract. When the needle is applied the patient feels little pain. Nevertheless, I prepared a draught of crushed lettuce and hemp seeds mixed in a cup of ale. Brother Alnett did not need to be persuaded to drink it down.
The seeds of wild lettuce will calm an anxious man. I know not if the draught succeeded with the monk, for he seemed a phlegmatic sort anyway, but I was tempted to prepare a cup for myself.
The patient whose cataract is being couched must not be permitted to blink while the work is done. I required the infirmarer and his assistant to fix Brother Alnett’s upper and lower eyelids in place, took a deep breath, and began my work.
I had among my instruments a needle, used for stitching wounds, which would serve, I thought, to couch a cataract. The milky corruption of a cataract is but a humor collected between pupil and lens, thus obstructing vision. My task was to clear this space, so that when it was empty vision might be restored. The monk’s cataract was of many years and fully formed, so no medicinal treatment would avail.
I inserted my needle into the outer edge of Brother Alnett’s whitened lens and worked it into the space between lens and pupil. I felt resistance when the needle touched the suffusio, for the cataract was large and firm. But because it was so it came free from its place in one whole, rather than breaking apart. When the cataract was loosened I thrust with the needle until I had worked it down and away from the pupil.
My work was done, so long as the suffusio stayed where my needle had pushed it. If it did not it would require breaking into fragments and these pieces would then be depressed. I prayed this would not be necessary, stood from my patient, and wiped sweat from my brow with the sleeve of my cotehardie. It was not a warm morning, but I noted perspiration also upon the brows of the infirmarer and his assistant. Brother Alnett seemed not so affected. Perhaps it was the lettuce seeds.
The monk blinked rapidly several times when his eyelids were released, then turned his head to the infirmary window whence came a shaft of golden morning sun. The beam struck the infirmarer’s table, upon which lay an opened book. Brother Alnett’s gaze fastened upon the volume and he stood and walked to it.
We who observed were silent as Brother Alnett stood over the pages of the infirmarer’s herbal. He peered down upon the book, then turned and spoke.
“The letters are much blurred, but I see them. Lenses will make them distinct and I shall read again.”
The monk spoke these words with such radiance upon his face as to rival the sun which framed him against the window.
“I would learn this work,” the herbalist’s assistant said softly. “Yesterday Brother Alnett could not have seen there was a book upon the table; now he can read it, or near so. Will you teach me the procedure?”
“There are others at the abbey who suffer from cataracts?” I asked.
“Not presently. Brother Ailred was so afflicted, but he died last year. Had I your skill I might have lifted some part of the burden of old age from him. And if some brother suffers a cataract in the future I might ease his affliction.”
I was of two minds concerning the request. An herbalist who could successfully couch a cataract would be a blessing to the town and abbey. But I knew so little of the business that I was just competent to perform the work. Could I teach another from my limited store of knowledge?
Brother Alnett heard the request. “Master Hugh travels to Exeter,” he said. “When he completes his business there he has promised to again visit Glastonbury, when he will restore my other eye. You may observe and learn then.”
A distant bell signaled the time for dinner. Brother Alnett led me to the guest hall, where Arthur and Uctred and nearly a hundred other guests joined me. Surely the abbey lands must be great to provide such hospitality. The hosteller left us with the promise that he would return after the meal. I had spoken of a wish to see the wonders of the abbey, and Brother Alnett was eager to display them.
Monks ate their meal in the refectory, but when we three finished our dinner the hosteller awaited, ready to show us marvelous things. Brother Alnett led us first to the great church. We entered through the north porch. Where the choir meets the crossing he displayed the tomb of Arthur and his queen, Guinevere. From Arthur’s tomb the monk directed us to the south transept, where is found the great clock, pride of the abbey, if monks be proud, as they have sworn not to be. Next we saw the Glastonbury Thorn, said to have sprung from Joseph of Arimathea’s rod. ’Tis surely a miracle that a tree will flower at Christmastide as well as the spring, when other, more common blooms appear.
“Our holiest place,” Brother Alnett advised, “is St Mary’s Chapel, for it is on this site that the old church, first in Glastonbury, was built.” He led us there and indeed it was not possible to stand in the place and escape a sense of awe and the presence of God. Arthur and Uctred felt this also, and crossed themselves.
“The view from the tor is wonderful,” Brother Alnett claimed. “I thought never to see the abbey from its heights again, but now I shall. I will take you there next.”
The climb to the top of the tor is laborious, but worth the toil. The Church of St Michael at the top is nearly completed. What effort it took to haul the stones to the eminence! Arthur and Uctred had chattered as we began the climb, but were soon too winded to continue their prattle. At the top the magnificence of the view seemed to strike them dumb, and me as well. It was Brother Alnett who spoke: “The death you spoke of… is it a murderer you seek in Exeter?”
“Aye. The man I seek was once in league with another to blackmail those who had confessed to him their sins, for he was a priest assigned to a small chapel near Bampton. His accomplice in the felony was found hanging from a tree near the town three weeks past.”