The Rose Demon

food across he whispered how the entire monastery knew that Prior Jerome had been summoned to the Abbot’s chamber.

    ‘The brothers are beside themselves with glee,’ the guestmaster informed Matthias. ‘The cellarer overheard the Abbot say that, by the end of the week, Prior Jerome will be gone.’

    Matthias wondered what had happened. He went across and lifted his clothes from a peg on the wall. His war belt had been removed! Someone had slipped into his chamber during the night and quietly taken it. A key turned in the lock. He whirled round. Prior Jerome, accompanied by four burly lay brothers, all carrying staffs, burst into the chamber. The Prior was grinning cynically. He pushed Matthias back on to the bed.

    ‘Assassin!’ he snarled, his finger thrust only inches away from Matthias’ face. ‘Assassin and son of the Devil!’

    Matthias tried to get up but two of the lay brothers seized his arms.

    ‘What’s the matter?’ he protested.

    ‘Last night, Brother Roger,’ Prior Jerome hissed, ‘was killed. Some force picked him up and flung him against the wall, dashing his brains out. More seriously, Abbot Benedict has also died. We found him lying on the floor of his chamber.’

    ‘God rest him,’ Matthias breathed. ‘But--’

    ‘His heart failed him,’ Prior Jerome retorted. ‘Yet what was the true cause, eh? Are you a warlock, Fitzosbert? Did you silence Brother Roger and Abbot Benedict?’ He took a step back. ‘The Abbot of St Wilfrid’s has his own jurisdiction: the power of the axe and tumbrel, the sword and the gallows. Now Abbot Benedict is dead, those powers are vested in me. You will stand trial, warlock, for your hideous crimes!’

29

    Matthias was confined to his chamber. He received no visitors and his only food was bread and water. The cell was closely guarded by three lay brothers. Matthias was only released to relieve himself in the latrines at the far end of the guest house. The lay brothers refused to answer any questions but Brother Paul came down. The guestmaster had lost all his jollity, his eyes were red-rimmed from crying. He managed to gain admission to Matthias’ chamber by bringing the bread and water himself, for which he apologised.

    ‘The whole monastery is in uproar,’ he declared. ‘Two deaths in one night. Brother Roger was madcap. Abbot Benedict’s heart seems to have failed him.’ Brother Paul leant closer. ‘Matthias, your situation is most serious. Prior Jerome is now Acting Abbot. He has the same powers of life and death as any manor lord. He is claiming that you are a warlock, a magician, who brought about the good Abbot’s death and that of poor Brother Roger.’ He breathed out noisily. ‘Both their funerals take place this afternoon.’

    ‘Isn’t that too soon?’ Matthias asked. ‘They’ve only been dead two days. Prior Jerome’s haste to inter them is unseemly!’

    Brother Paul looked at him from under lowering brows. ‘What are you implying, Matthias?’

    ‘Of Brother Roger’s death nothing. Yet I do find it strange that, on the very day the Abbot decided to send his prior to another house, Benedict dies. There are many potions, Brother Paul, to make an old man’s heart fail!’

    ‘Is that what you think?’ the guestmaster asked.

    ‘Abbot Benedict was my friend. A holy scholar, a man who was going to help me deal with a truly terrible problem.’ Matthias picked up the hard rye bread and nibbled at it.

    Brother Paul got to his feet. ‘Such problems are nothing,’ he whispered, ‘to what will happen tomorrow. Prior Jerome is convoking a full Chapter meeting. You will be tried on charges of sorcery and black magic.’

    ‘Nonsense!’ Matthias sprang to his feet. ‘He has no evidence.’

    ‘Hasn’t he?’ Brother Paul replied. ‘Are you prepared to tell the brothers why you are here? Why you visited Abbot Benedict at night? What was so important? Why did Brother Roger mention you? How could a madcap monk know anything of a visitor to our monastery?’ He grasped Matthias’ hand. ‘These are only some of the questions Jerome, in his malice, is whispering among the brothers. He has sown a deadly crop, Matthias. Tomorrow you may well harvest it.’

    After Brother Paul left, Matthias sat back on the bed. The full dangers of his situation now confronted him. He’d hoped that Prior Jerome would be only too willing to expel him from St Wilfrid’s. Matthias would have collected the parchment, whatever Abbot