Chapter Twenty-Two #3
She held the pages down as she dipped in and out, copying the fragments she loved most into her household book.
She would choose for this Lord’s book anything she liked.
She was sure Lady Margaret wouldn’t be able to read any of it, and the Prior would be looking at the book as a whole, and who knew if the Lord would even look at it.
The nouns of venery were her favourite. It started with herds, a herd of harts, a herd of swans, a herd of harlots.
Then an eye of peacocks – she paused, imagining a beautiful peacock with all the coloured inks she had – tail aloft over all the veneries.
A shame there weren’t to be illuminations in this one.
A clattering of chuffs, a flight of doves, and an unkindness of ravens.
She made a note to tell that one to Isabelle.
A rout of knights, a pride of lions, a kyndyll of kittens.
So many beautiful words in this book. Before she shut it up she came across two more that had her laughing out loud – a rage of maidens and a blush of boys.
Luke looked up frowning, not understanding when she laughed and his colour rose.
She went back to the drawing for the Gospels book, but as she continued, her mind was on the Prior.
It must have been him who took Oswyn’s household book.
Only he, and perhaps Isabelle, had anything to do with the duck.
But why hide it? He had every reason to have it, on his desk with the other books.
There must be something hidden in it and it must be something he didn’t want known.
Once Luke left for prayers, she would look again at the entries to see if she had missed anything.
She also wanted to get those scraps of paper and see how they matched.
Luke lingered – or so it felt to Linnet – but finally the call to Sext summoned him.
Alone in the Scriptorium at last, Linnet opened Oswyn’s book and read the entries, one by one.
He had marked with a star those purchases he and the Prior had intended but not completed.
She looked through them carefully but it seemed to agree with what she knew already.
She saw Oswyn had kept a tally of ‘scribe expenses’ too, far above what she was eating and costing them she thought sourly.
Unless it wasn’t a case of what was in the book but what was missing from it.
Where was the entry for the lapis lazuli?
The Prior would have told him he was planning to buy it so it should be in here.
And why hadn’t the pedlar given a reckoning for that?
She remembered the Prior calling him careless but it would be one of the most costly items on his cart.
She could see him forgetting a note for pins or the like, but not for a precious powder.
She’d entered the cost of the lapis into the accounts as the Prior had instructed but if he’d not spent it on that, he could do anything with that money.
But there had been a note in the accounts – the Inspector had found it when they were talking the other day.
Why hadn’t he noted it into his household book first as he had with everything else?
She looked around the desk. The lapis was certainly there but still not making the beautiful blue colour she expected. So if he’d not bought it from the pedlar – where had it come from?
She started to trace the occasional torn edges, with their scraps of words falling away. She needed that bag of paper scraps to see if she could match them
Luke came back in and went to his desk with an assured stride. As he settled down to the scribing he looked up at Linnet disdainfully.
‘Is there something…?’
‘I was thinking about how kind the Prior is to let you scribe.’
She bristled. ‘Why so, Brother Luke?’ she asked, trying to keep calm.
‘Well you’re not in holy orders. You may have some skill but that’s not the same, of course. The Inspector says women should spend their time beautifying the church for God, but in embroidery and the like, not in books.’
‘Does he?’
‘Yes, women are to support our true purpose, but they should keep to their allotted tasks.’ He was leaning back in his chair, waving grandly around the room, like a man twice his age instructing a child.
The duck let out a loud quack, perhaps adding her voice to the argument, and Luke, startled, nearly fell off the chair.
‘Why is that duck here?’
‘The Prior wanted it out of his rooms while Lady Margaret was here,’ Linnet said. Well he might have done if he’d thought about it.
‘I don’t know how I am supposed to do my work with birds and women in every corner,’ he said.
She’d finally had enough, but she still strove to keep her voice calm.
‘This woman has shown you how to scribe and is busy correcting your errors. I think you’d find it a lot harder without me here.’
Offended, he turned back to his quire. She would look at it carefully later. This kind of pompous pride often led to careless errors.
‘Brother Luke! I need you for the priest’s boils, they need lancing.’ It was Godfreyd, and in a trice, the young monk seemed to shrink, all pomposity gone.
Linnet tried and failed to conceal a smirk at the thought of him dealing with the irascible priest, and Luke glared as he left.