Chapter Forty
The masons were getting ready to leave too, making a lot of noise that could be heard all over the Priory as they packed up their cart. They had more work further down the coast and were no longer needed now that the floor had been laid in the Priory Church.
She lost herself in the book of ‘Hawking and Hunting’, only to be disturbed once more by shouting outside.
Father Thomas and Brother Samuel hurried to the inner courtyard, and she followed, careful to hang back just in case, and found most of the monks crowding round the Prior and a furious Godfreyd.
‘You cannot send me there! I will not go.’
‘As Prior I can send you where I choose. It is God’s will.’
Linnet saw that the Prior was announcing Godfreyd’s banishment publicly to serve as a warning to the other monks, and to add to the humiliation.
They were face-to-face, the shorter Prior looking up at Godfreyd but with no appearance of being daunted.
‘My place is in the Infirmary. You need me here for my skills.’
‘There are other monks who have such skills. Your place for now is on Inner Farne.’
There were gasps from the watching monks. Very few of them were devout enough to emulate St Cuthbert’s example and closet themselves away on that remote tiny island. Godfreyd was definitely not one of them.
Godfreyd choked back his fury while the Prior looked steadily back at him.
The monks were silent. Not one spoke up for Godfreyd, not one asked the Prior to reconsider.
If he’d been well liked or had friends, someone might have spoken for him, or even offered to take his place.
But Linnet understood now that they all knew what he’d been doing, and although no one had been brave enough to challenge him for his sins, he was finally abandoned and exposed.
Brother Benedict took a hesitant step forward, but thought again and didn’t say anything.
The Prior stood waiting calmly. His authority was not to be questioned, the decision was final. Godfreyd, tall and handsome, could barely contain his rage.
Linnet wondered if a stranger would know which was the Prior and which was the monk being banished. Godfreyd’s habit was much better quality and he carried himself with assurance, with the air of nobility he was born to. And where did the Prior come from? She didn’t know.
Finally Godfreyd nodded. A single sharp nod seen by everyone. The Prior showed no sign of relief but raised his voice.
‘Let it be known that Brother Godfreyd will continue his devotions at Saint Cuthbert’s chapel on Inner Farne. Brother Adam will return to the Priory.’
Without returning anyone’s gaze, Godfreyd strode back to his cell to collect what he could take to make his exile more tolerable.
One of the novices ran to light the beacon to let the monks on Inner Farne know that someone was coming, and the crowd dispersed slowly, with much gossiping as they did so.
‘Are they putting him out?’ It was Isabelle, her hand taking Linnet’s, as she usually did now.
‘They’re sending him to Inner Farne.’
The child nodded, looking pleased. ‘He were cruel to Pol, serves him right. Lots of birds on Inner Farne too, they’ll be shitting on him every day.’
Linnet laughed at the vision the child had conjured.
‘And I took the thing,’ Isabelle winked carefully, ‘to the Prior. Didn’t I do well before?’
‘Yes, yes you did. Thank you.’ Linnet felt tears coming but they dried up as Isabelle nodded, pleased with herself and said, ‘Well you taught me to lie, so it were easy,’ and skipped off.
The Prior ordered the fishermen to take Godfreyd to Inner Farne at once. If he were given a day or two, he would send to his wealthy family and try and get the decision overruled. He might still try this, but it would be a lot harder from Inner Farne.
Linnet stood on the shore, watching Godfreyd overseeing novices load the boat.
He was taking hangings and blankets and bags full of ointments and sweetmeats.
It may be an austere cell on Inner Farne, but he had no intention of keeping it that way.
The Prior must have decided to turn a blind eye to this luxury.
Brother Benedict came down to see him off.
He spoke pleadingly to Godfreyd, his hand on his sleeve, explaining something with many gestures, but the taller man shoved him away.
Then, reconsidering, he brought him in close and whispered at length in his ear.
Benedict nodded, once, twice, and bustled off, looking relieved.
Godfreyd saw her watching and came over.
‘Don’t think I don’t know about you! Tom told me all about you and your past life. And I had words with your man Guy.’ It was a low hiss, too low for anyone else to hear.
She stared back at him, wondering again how much Tom had told him, what new danger she was in now.
‘I know more than you think. I know why you think you’re safe now but you’ve more to lose than I have.’ He strode back to the boat.
As they cast off, he sat straight, no sign of seasickness yet. Linnet saw him glance over at the spot where Tom had been buried. Had he seen that happen and what did he feel? He turned away and looked out to sea.
‘May he rot on that island.’
The voice made her start. Luke was standing behind her, pale and swaying, but looking a lot better.
‘Did you tell the Prior?’ he asked her.
‘No, he knew already. I think almost everyone knew.’
He looked relieved.
‘If the Inspector hadn’t left, he would have dealt with him, I’m sure of it. Where did he go?’
‘To St Patrick’s Purgatory in Ireland. He left a note for the Prior.’
‘Why would he go without saying something to all of us?’ he said, sounding plaintive.
‘There often seemed no reason for what he said or did.’
Luke bristled. ‘That’s because you didn’t understand what he was saying. He’s a prophet, you’ll see one day.’
She tried to divert him.
‘Will you be coming back to the Scriptorium?’
‘Yes, unless the Prior wants to move me. Anywhere but Inner Farne.’
She caught a brief smile – had the blow to his head finally taught him how to jest?
They walked together back up the slope to the Priory. Luke stumbled and Linnet put out a hand to help him, but he brushed it off, still filled with disgust at the idea of a woman’s touch.
The masons and Guy finally left, and the island felt smaller again and quieter. Following behind, sitting on the Inspector’s horse, was Cassian. He had the report and the letter from the Inspector in his bag, and the Prior gave him a blessing as he waited to leave.
‘Deliver this and we will send good word to the Bishop about you, my son,’ he added.
Cassian nodded in thanks, but Linnet could tell he was still confused by how things had turned out.
As the horse picked its way across the sands, the stable boy leading him from safe stone to safe stone, Linnet saw Cassian look back, thoughtfully, and cross himself.
She slipped into the Priory Church to look at the new floor.
Despite the impression the masons liked to give of being careless at work and play, the floor looked neat and well laid, the stones curving gently in a perfect pattern. She could see it in the light of the candles, which must have been lit in time for the next prayers.
But Linnet knew what was below the floor and looked hard for anything that might reveal its secret.
She knew the Inspector was well buried, the grave was at least a yard below the earth, but she felt as if he were close, waiting to burst out shouting and clawing at her.
She knew it couldn’t be, but the thought was terrifying. She shuddered and fled.