Temple of the Grail(5)

Finally, the abbot also washed Eisik’s hands, an action that impressed me a great deal, but caused the inquisitor and the bishop to bless themselves and exchange looks of disbelief, the Cistercian to glare with indignation, and the Franciscan to say a paternoster.

So it was that after the ritual the abbot entrusted us to the care of the hospitaller who was to take us to our quarters.

The hospitaller told us that our cells were situated in the pilgrims’ hospice, connected to the infirmary by another building, all facing the main courtyard, and merging with the body of the eastern wall. The inquisitor and his colleagues would be housed in the main cloister building, closer to the abbot’s own quarters, and thankfully some distance away from us.

My cell had a window overlooking the compound. My master’s, on the other hand, faced east and had a wonderful view over the mountains and the valleys beyond. To my surprise he seemed unhappy with this arrangement, and asked to change cells with me. I agreed readily, but the hospitaller was a little concerned.

‘I have been instructed,’ he shook his head. ‘This is most unusual –’

‘My dear brother,’ my master answered, a little irritated, ‘it concerns me not if the cell is smaller and other such things, I merely wish to have my window face the compound and not the external world, which I find a distraction.’

The hospitaller nodded his approval. ‘So it is, so it is . . . If one could only ignore external things, oh!’ he sighed. ‘What a blissful place the world would be then, preceptor,’ adding hastily, ‘but the wine?’

‘The wine?’ My master raised a brow.

‘Yes . . . the honey wine, our specialty. Every room is graced with one flask, that is, with the exception of the novices, of course, though we only have two, and that is a good thing’, he gave me a sideways glance, ‘for the young have no control over their urges; they drink wine as if it were water, they eat too much, and they are filled with pride.’

‘I see,’ my master smiled with amusement. ‘I do not partake of liquor, dear brother, so you may take it away.’

He stared at my master as if he had not understood him. ‘No liquor?’ he said with a vacuous mouth. ‘None at all, preceptor?’

‘Not a drop these days.’ He patted his middle, the circumference of which had increased of late.

The man hesitated a moment longer and left us with a frown, returning again in a mood of agitation because he had omitted to advise us that after the service there would be a dinner in the refectory, in honour of the legate. Having said this, he rushed off into the cold night, talking to himself as old men do.

My room was sparse, but comfortable. My pallet was constructed of wood, fashioned into a crude frame and filled with clean, fragrant straw. I had one sheepskin for warmth, and the only light came from a lantern attached to the wall by iron clasps, a luxury extended only to guests. The abbey monks would have no light in their cells.

In the centre of the small room a large vessel had been filled with warm water. This, too, was a rare pleasure, and I must admit that the thought of it made one instantly glad. I said a small prayer thanking the Lord that this abbey did not follow that aspect of the Benedictine rule which forbade regular bathing, for I had become very accustomed to it in the East.

I sat heavily on my pallet, feeling an overwhelming weariness. From my cell window I could see only a strange greyness. I stood and found that I could look down on the forest, now almost completely in shadow, to see directly below my window smoke coming from the fire at the encampment we had seen on our way to the abbey. I shuddered with cold, thinking of the poor pilgrim as I prepared for my bath. I said a short prayer that this night would not be too cold for him, shed my road-soiled clothes, and immersed my broken body into the grateful warmth. And, having resolved that I must be exceedingly tired, I set out to prove my hypothesis by falling into a deep and contented sleep.





2


Capitulum


Prior to Vespers

I awoke to the sound of a loud knock. Still in the bath, my head dull, I realised that I was very nearly frozen. I dressed in the habit provided me by the fine monks of the abbey, and in haste opened the door to reveal my master standing before me, his foot tapping the ground and his face contorted into a scowl.

‘Come, boy,’ he remonstrated. ‘What have you been doing? You look like a plucked chicken. Have you been sleeping?’ He searched my face, and I nodded, uncertain of his response.

‘Well, good for you.’ He smiled then, and slapped me on the back. ‘There will be little sleep these coming nights, for we must be prepared to make our inquiries at the oddest hours, at the same time attempting to follow the customs of the abbey. Come, we must conduct our preliminary inspections before dark.’