Chapter One
the more clearly he realized that was no longer an option for him. His heart had been broken open to life and love, and he didn’t think he could seal it up again, even if he wanted to. And, he had to admit in the still small voice of his innermost being, he didn’t want to, not when it came to it. And he thought that might be his salvation, but it was not unconnected with being in love. This was not the first time in his life that William had used account books as a refuge from thinking about things that threatened and confused him. “Any joy with Brother Cormac?” Brother Ambrose asked him cheerily as he walked through the door. “I said he could go on ordering the rabbits from the market.” Brother Ambrose had to strain to hear him, and William did not look at him. “Oh. I see.” Ambrose thought it wisest to withdraw from further discussion of the matter. “Never mind,” he said sympathetically. “We all have that trouble with Brother Cormac.” William did not reply. He sat down at his table and picked up the next scrap of parchment from the pile of notes jotted down by the brothers, and receipts and bills from tradesmen. He looked at it in bafflement. He simply couldn’t read this monk’s handwriting at all.
✠ ✠ ✠ “I would speak with thy cellarer.” Old Mother Cottingham accosted Brother Martin on his way back to the gatehouse after the midday meal. “Brother Ambrose?” He regarded her with kindly amusement, this diminutive ancient lady, bent and leaning on her gnarled stick, her wild gray hair in disarray, her shawl awry, only a few teeth left in her jaw, but her eyes as bright and sharp as ever. Eyes that saw everything—on the inside as well as 29