Page 53 of The Daughters of Avalon
“Aye.”
And to be sure, the chaplain asked again, raising his goblet and pausing with the glass in midair, his white brows furrowing dubiously. “At Llanthony?” he asked, his voice rising, and breaking with the pitch.
Malcom shrugged, as though the answer couldn’t possibly matter. “’Tis what I’m told, father.”
Shaking his head, Ersinius swallowed the entire contents of his glass. “Ah, well… no, no, no!” he said, sounding perfectly horrified by the prospect. He sat back now, a bit less jovial and set his glass down, turning it around and around and around on the wooden table. “And, tell me, have you any business with these…ladies?”
Malcom picked up a slice of mutton and put it into his mouth—well flavored and tender. “Aside from a mild curiosity? Nay, father.”
The man seemed to relax before Malcom’s eyes. “Alas, but nay. We are ill prepared to cater to aught but the needs of our men—good men, every one. I assure you.”
Malcom nodded.
“Did you know that I once counseled King Henry’s first wife? A very pious lady. Very pious.” Without any segue, he carried on. “No girls here,” he said, “No girls anywhere at all on these premises—although we did have an emissary from Matilda once, a Brian Fitz Count. Do you know that man?”
He watched Malcom then, very shrewdly, as though to gauge his reaction.
“I do,” Malcom said, reassuring himself that the chaplain could have no inkling of Stephen’s intentions toward Wallingford.Or did he, perhaps?
Licensed by the king to enforce his law and guard against insurrection, the Rex Militum was a secret league, known to but a few. But he realized that some of the priories were used to breed select pigeons and ravens for communications… and he wondered if somehow Ersinius might have been able to intercept one…
Ersinius gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Well, yes, I’m certain you do,” he said. “But, of course, I cannot say why he has come, though I assure you it had little to do with the Empress herself. He was here one day, gone the next.” He poured himself another tall glass ofvinand Malcom had the impression that if he left the man to drink and gab, he would prattle on about everything he knew.
So, then, Fitz Count had come, after all. Evidently, Malcom had missed him—fortunately for Wallingford—and more so nowthat Malcom was otherwise occupied, because the price on Wallingford’s head was the last thing on his mind.
Malcom took his time and ate what he had been served before asking, offhandedly, “So you have no women on these premises at all?”
“Of course not!” exclaimed Ersinius. And then he chortled and added, “Even the most pious of us would be hard-pressed to focus on our ministries—if you know what I mean?” He winked at Malcom in an exaggerated fashion, his cheeks growing fiery red, like two plump red apples.
“Indeed, I do,” Malcom said with an answering grin. And the chaplain seemed so sincere that seeds of doubt once again began to creep into Malcom’s head. Lifting a hand to his shoulder, he sought the evidence again, thinking Ersinius too old—and too arrogant—to be shrewd.
What was more, the man had no qualms over revealing all the names of his notable guests, or showing Malcom all his frivolous expenditures—even recounting those Malcom couldn’t see.
“Have you seen our new windows, dear boy?” he asked gleefully. “Waldglas, ’tis called. Made in Deutschland.” He fluttered his fingers. “But, of course, Stephen could equip an entire army for the cost—more’s the pity, we’ve now had to replace the large one in the vestibule twice.” He arched a brow and gave Malcom a discerning nod. “Perhaps this, after all, is the true reason you’ve come? I sent a bitter complaint to His Grace. One of my men saw some wretched brat scurry into those woods. But you can be sure he did not act alone. These damned Welsh, to send a boy to do what a man would not dare.”
Malcom seized the opportunity. “Aye, father,” he said. “I am well aware of your troubles here.”
Malcom had long suspected the skirmishes were in protest over the appropriation of Welsh land used for the priory’sconstruction. Its proprietors had lost sacks full of gold repairing the chapel, and the constant harrowing was undermining Stephen’s efforts with the Marcher lords—particularly now with Matilda’s allies creeping around begging for support.
Chugging the contents of his glass, he set down the cup. “Would you mind if I had a look about? I hope to locate your vandals and be away, so I may report to the King.”
The frown lines eased from the chaplain’s brow. “But, of course not, my dear boy! You must do what you must. I would love to find and flog that little heathen who dared desecrate God’s house.”
Malcom smiled thinly, remembering again the chaplain who’d sat before him at Aldergh, his smile cruel.Your father does not want you, dear boy, but your God and your king surely do.He’d shut his mouth after that, and spoke not another word.
“I don’t know, father. I would suppose God himself would have you sooner forgive—would he not?”
The man blinked. His face flushed, until it turned purple, and then he recomposed himself. “Well… perhaps. However… according to Holy Scripture, ‘He that spareth the rod hateth the son: but he that loveth the son chasteneth him betimes.’ I consider it my greatest duty to love sinners the same as I do the devout.”
Equal opportunity punishment,Malcom thought. “Of course,” he said, eager to be away. He stood now, and the chaplain stood after him, looking for the first time ill at ease.
Malcom said, proffering his hand, “Thank you, good father, for nourishing this sinner at your table. I hope you will pardon my haste.”
“So soon?” the old man asked. He grasped Malcom’s forefinger, shaking it feebly with trembling hands. “But I hoped you might linger awhile, give news of court?”
“Another time,” Malcom said as he made for the door. The chaplain followed, his rickety old legs hard-pressed to keep up. He was already out of breath even before they crossed the threshold. Once outside, Malcom bade him, “Would you care to join me, father?”
The open invitation seemed to put the man completely at ease. “Oh, nay!” he said, waving Malcom on. “I have too much to do today.” He gestured toward the merchants lolling about. “Look at them all! However, you must feel free to wander as you please.”
