Chapter 4 #3
The mention of my specialty of magic history had Brother Eduardo once again glancing at the abbot.
Although it wasn’t an anxious glance, it held a measure of uncertainty.
Did he expect the abbot to throw us out?
The abbot had welcomed us, despite knowing our interest in magic, so I felt his worry was unnecessary.
Brother Eduardo closed the ledger and picked up a piece of paper from the desk. “I copied the entries for all the books sold to Signore Scala. Take it with you and perhaps he will negotiate a price.”
“Does Signore Scala live in the village?” Oscar asked.
“He lives at Villa Corzoni.”
My heart sank. If the new owner of the book we wanted also owned that bright jewel of a villa on the edge of the lake, he had no need of money. We’d have to convince him to sell us the book using some other means.
“It is late,” the abbot said. “You should leave now before it grows dark.” Without waiting for an answer, the tall man ducked under the doorway as he left the library and strode off. We followed.
“Perhaps they could join us for vesperae and supper,” Brother Eduardo said, trailing behind.
“No,” the abbot barked over his shoulder.
Brother Eduardo lowered his head and murmured an apology.
I expected Oscar to be equally vehement in declining the invitation to join the monks in prayer, but he seemed distracted. He lengthened his strides to keep apace with the abbot. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d removed all the books containing magic when we wrote?”
“When I wrote,” I corrected him.
Although Oscar addressed the abbot, it was the librarian, walking alongside me, who answered.
“I was not aware all the books mentioning magic were removed from the library. However, I should have written to the Professor about the purging of our collection.” He suddenly grasped my hand. “I am very sorry, Professor.”
I snatched my hand back before either Oscar or the abbot noticed.
I’d already had an inkling that Brother Eduardo was one of those men who liked other men, and had seemed to take a liking to me, but I’d not expected him to be so bold.
My outright rejection of his touch made him lower his head, his cheeks flaming.
My own heated, which only made the situation more intolerable.
Oscar was oblivious to the scene playing out behind him. “Father Abbot? You purged the books, didn’t you?”
“Si. I gave those devil books to the devil himself.”
Beside me, Brother Eduardo gasped. His fingers closed around the simple wooden cross hanging around his neck.
“Signore Scala is greedy, depraved,” the abbot went on, his accent more pronounced than ever. “I did not tell you they were gone, Signore Barratt, because I thought you might find the book you want in what remains of our collection.”
“You mean you hoped we’d root out any volumes about magic that you missed.” Oscar shook his head in disappointment. “We weren’t lying when we wrote saying we didn’t know its title.”
“We?” I echoed.
Oscar put a hand up to tell me to wait until later for that conversation. “Finding the book mentioning the spell among the abbey’s collection would be like finding a needle in a haystack. You accepted my donation under false pretenses, Father Abbot.”
A donation, too! What else had Oscar done behind my back?
“The money was not for the book,” the abbot said. “It was for informing you about your friends’ visit. As I wrote in my letter, they are expected tomorrow. I did what you asked.”
Friends!
It all began to make sense. The delayed departure for Italy, the sighting of Miss Wheeler and Mr. Defoe on the lake…Oscar had timed our visit with theirs, based on the information supplied by the abbot. Information Oscar had paid for.
A light touch to my elbow took me by surprise. I wasn’t aware I was almost on Oscar’s heels until Brother Eduardo urged me to slow down. He lowered his voice. “Father Abbot does not like Signore Scala.”
“So I gathered.”
“He is not evil, despite what the abbot says.” He lowered his voice further. “He is an aesthete, as you English say.”
“Depraved, the abbot called him. Is that because Signore Scala is interested in magic?”
Brother Eduardo didn’t answer. We’d caught up to Oscar and the abbot, waiting at the top of the staircase for us. The abbot gave Brother Eduardo instructions in Italian then switched to English to speak to us.
“Goodbye, Signore Barratt, Professor Nash. May God be with you.”
I thanked him while Oscar merely gave a stiff nod. The abbot returned to his office, leaving us with the librarian.
Brother Eduardo indicated we should go ahead of him down the stairs. “You two are very good friends,” he said, pitching his voice higher at the end, almost but not quite, asking a question.
Oscar’s only response was an indecipherable humph.
I, however, was still rather cross with him for writing to the abbot without telling me, and my response was curt. “I thought we were.”
Oscar tilted his head to regard me. “Gavin,” he began. He didn’t continue, but I suspected it was a conversation we’d pick up again on the walk back to the village.
Brother Eduardo escorted us across the forecourt to the gatehouse and shook our hands in farewell. “Be careful, I beg you. Dusk is here.”
We should have heeded his advice more closely, but Oscar and I were distracted by our argument.