A Tempest in a Chalice of Wine

TITLE: A Tempest in a Chalice of Wine

GENRE: OC, discipline, finished story

SUMMARY: A new abbot arrives to the monastery and young brother Lawrence finds that life will change, but for the better or the worse?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I reserve the right to not know at all what I’m talking about ;-) It’s set in a monastery in the Middle Ages and I’m no expert on monastery life so there will most likely be faults in this. And while I’m at it; no offence towards Christians is intended, if someone felt they were about to be offended.

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A Tempest in a Chalice of Wine

By: Dice

He came on a rainy August night, riding a black horse, and draped in a heavy, soaked mantle. The other younger friars and I, were peering through the windows of the dormitory, trying to see what he looked like. From above he seemed very short and I shoved my friend, Brother Alvin, with an elbow and whispered that he wouldn’t be a problem.

If one would believe Brother Walter, Alvin and I were the reason for Father Oswald’s sudden departure on a pilgrimage, which really was a bit risky, especially for a man of his age. Alvin and I had indeed been somewhat of a nuisance to the old man, but at least I had thought of him as a rather sympathetic oldster and generally tried not to force him to give me that sad look that made my heart ache. The only trouble was that as soon as his eyes were no longer on me, I forgot that the old man, and his rules, even existed.

“I think we can break him in quite easily”, Alvin mumbled to me and I smiled. “I wonder how old he is”, he continued.

“Over sixty, to be sure, they always are!” I said confidently.

“What a beautiful horse”, I heard tiny Brother Simon say.

“I hope he keeps it in the stable”, Brother Roderick with the limp said.

A light flickered at the door and we turned around, Brother Thomas was standing in the doorway, glaring at us with a candle in his hand. Brother Thomas was one of the few I had any respect for of the older brothers, he was in charge of the garden and I usually helped him there. He didn’t need to say anything, we all went back to bed without a word.

As soon as he had closed the door, Alvin, who slept in the bed next to mine, turned to me and said quietly:

“Let’s have some fun with him in the morning, I have an idea that’s hilarious. We’ll sneak into the chapel tomorrow before prayers and…” his voice lowered to an almost inaudible whisper and I could not keep myself from chuckling at his idea, he was right it was hilarious.

The next morning we rose before the chime and hurriedly got dressed. Our brown frocks flapping around our legs we then ran through the corridors, taking care not to be seen by any other early riser.

We stole into the chapel and into the vestry, it was empty as usual. While I picked the lock to the chest where the communion wine was kept, Alvin brought out our hidden treasure – a case full of dead and dry flies and spiders.

I put the flies in the only opened bottle and shook it so that the flies would not be seen at once when poured into the chalice. We then skulked back to the dormitory and luckily nobody had yet gone up. We took our clothes off and crept hastily into bed.

I fell asleep again despite my excitement and when the bells called to prayers I was slow to rise again from my warm bed.

Kneeling in the chapel Alvin and I were thrilled anew at the thought of our prank, it would be unspeakably funny to see the new abbot spit flies at communion. If the prank worked that was.

I looked at the abbot, whom I could only see from behind. Gone was the mantle from the night before, and instead he wore the clothes that befitted a man of his position, the same as every other friar in the chapel.

The priest began the communion by leaning slightly forward and then taking both parts of the Sacred Host and paten in his left hand. He struck his breast with his right hand and said with a raised voice as the bells rung:

“Panem coelestem accipiam, et nomen Domini invocabo.” He repeated the words three times and continued, “Domine, non sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea.” This too said three times as the bells tolled.

He then made the Sign of the Cross with the Sacred Host, holding it in his right hand over the paten, saying:

“Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam meam in vitam aeternam. Amen.”

I could see that Alvin, alike myself, was bursting with laughter and rapture when the priest held the chalice for the abbot to drink. We could see him take a sip and our exultation rose to the point where it was hard to hide it and we both leaned forward to see him explode. But nothing happened. Silence, I could hear my heart beat. I saw him speak to the priest who turned pale and nodded quickly. He looked around and then he left towards the vestry, he came back and then did the whole tedious ritual again.

Alvin and I glanced at each other in disappointment, but dared not show any feeling. I was both puzzled and annoyed by the unsuccessful prank, and also somewhat troubled, since I hadn’t thought that it would fail as miserably as it had.

At the end of mass the front row stirred and the abbot rose, but not to leave the chapel, but to address the gathered. When he stood up in front of us, seeing him at his full length, I gasped at how forceful and authoritative he looked – he had none of Father Oswald’s frailty, nor was he of the age I had thought, but much younger.

“Brothers”, he began gently with a voice that wasn’t loud, but still clear and easily heard throughout the entire chapel, “I am rather displeased with the welcome I’ve received today, which shows a lack of both discipline and humility in this abbey.”

I glanced at Alvin, who winked at me – the prank had worked after all. However I could not share his enthusiasm, something didn’t feel right.

“I have been subject to, and I presume without much doubt that it was directed at me, a cruel joke on God’s expense, and I can’t begin to say how distressed and angry this makes me.”

I couldn’t help but smile – he exaggerated enough to make it sound like we had turned the crucifix upside down (which we had on another occasion and which was not appreciated). He began pacing, first a short bit down between the rows, and then further down. He frowned and seemed to be musing. Our prank had affected him and I was beginning to feel quite contented with myself. He stopped in halfway down the aisle and looked around saying:

“I hope that the wrongdoer or wrongdoers will have the honesty to step forward.”

What was he thinking? Was he stupid? Who would admit to a trespass when he had no proof? I smirked with my head bent and felt Alvin’s small push at my side.

“Brother, do you find this amusing?” I heard him ask not a yard from me and stiffened, but I knew better then to look up and acknowledge my guilt. “Yes, you, the little redhead!” he said sternly and this time I had to look up, since I was the only one in the abbey with such apparent redness in my hair, though I resented the remark about my size.

He was standing right next to me, hands folded in front of him and even though he looked quite serene, there was a certain rigidity to his gaze that made me feel small. I swallowed and shook my head in an attempt to dismiss his question.

“No? Then I suggest you wipe the smile off you face!” he looked through me with grey, steely eyes and the tone of voice was frightful.

He turned away from me and walked up to the first row. He spoke to the friars there and Brother Walter, the abbot’s aid gave us a look and nodded while he said something with a grim face. I swallowed and when the abbot looked at us I looked away, afraid to meet his glance, like I had never been afraid to meet anyone’s eyes before.

“Since nobody has the honesty, or the fortitude, to confess his misdeed, I will have to pray for God’s guidance in this matter.” The abbot said at length.

In the refectory the usual serenity was replaced by slander and chatter. Brother Roderick with the limp asked Alvin with a convinced tone if he knew anything about the misdeed and Alvin laughed it off like he always did, I laughed too but not so effortlessly as he.

After grace the normal tranquillity fell over everyone as we ate and I had time to think about what he had said about our prank being on God’s expense. The more I thought about it the less appetite I had and finally I left the food to the dogs resting at the kitchen door.

I walked out in the garden to begin weeding the flowerbeds. As so many times before when I knelt on the pebbles in the path I felt as if God expected me to pray. I felt that in this place as in no other he could see right to my heart.

I thought about saying a little prayer to make him know we had meant no harm, but just then I pricked my finger on a thorn.

“Damn it!” I said and at the same moment a shadow fell over me. I looked up with an apologetic face, expecting a reprimand from Brother Thomas for cursing in his garden. Instead my eyes met the new abbot’s and I felt faint for a moment. “Oh, my God”, I gasped, “I’m sorry!”

“God forgives all those who repent, Brother”, he said gently.

I rose and looked at him warily, he held his hands behind his back and he was smiling friendly at me.

“I have always loved gardens, I feel closer to God out-of-doors, don’t you?” he said and stepped over the flowerbed I had been weeding.

“Yes, Reverend Father”, I whispered.

“Oh, don’t be so formal, Brother. Call me Father Matthew”, he smiled at me again and then putting a hand on my shoulder he asked me to show him the garden.

“I think Brother Thomas would like to do that, it is he who is to thank for its beauty”, I said hesitantly.

“No, Brother, it is God who is to thank, Brother Thomas is just the tool that makes God’s gifts come to life and bloom”, the abbot said quietly. “You embarrass your brother to think is so vain as to take pride in God’s creations.”

He was right, Brother Thomas never took credit for all his work, though he spent almost every waking hour in this garden, it was I who was proud of him. I looked away and nodded.

I showed him around and told him all about our work, I felt less and less uncomfortable, but was still attentive, listening to every change in tone and speech. He stopped at a rosebush – Brother Thomas’s dearest plant – and I told the abbot all about how Thomas had worked from nothing more than a small root to what you could now see – a splendid bush with roses red as blood.

“He says that it’s Christ’s own blood that has given them this colour”, I said softly and touched a flower with a light hand.

“You seem fond of him”, the abbot said.

“I am, he’s kind to me. He let’s me do what I want, and doesn’t tell me what to do all the time, unlike all the others around here.” I knew I sounded churlish, but didn’t care.

“You’re something of an untamed spirit then”, he said laughing. “An unbridled colt.”

I looked away, I felt shy when he laughed and knew that I blushed.

“It was you and your friend who played that prank on me this morning, wasn’t it?”

I had expected the question, but when it came I was unprepared and I winced, looking at my feet and swallowing hard.

“Now, while I’ll never be as forgiving as God, I am not an unreasonable man, and if you confess I’ll abate the penance.”

Penance? What was he talking about? There had never been talk of penance in our abbey, not even when we poured water over a visiting bishop. I looked at him and knew at once that he was certain and that he only wanted me to confirm his suspicion. Slowly, I felt my head leaning forward in a nod and my lips moved. No sound came, but still he sighed and nodded in appreciation.

“Good, I will send for you when I have decided what penance I shall give you.”

I watched him leave, my heart pounding and my hands trembling. I hadn’t been this afraid since I was an urchin living of what I could obtain by stealing and begging. It was so many years ago now, but the memory of cold nights and never a kind word stalked me still. I wasn’t sure, but I expected to be severely punished for this prank and one part of me said that I deserved it – the other said run. But where could I run to, I only had this life, the safety of the abbey and the brothers’ jovial familiarity. An old fear of rejection came over me and for a moment I felt weak with dread that I would have to leave.

Brother Thomas found me by the bush, a single withering rose in my palm and tearstains on my cheeks. He didn’t scold, nor did he comfort me. He had found me in this state only one time before.

“Come, you need to eat!” he said and made me rise.

I washed my face and looked at him. I saw him sigh, his face was sad and I knew that look. It meant he knew what I had done and soon he would, in his own quiet way tell me that he wondered what a young, careless man like myself was doing becoming a friar.

“Why did you do it, Lawrence?” he said gently. “I can’t understand what drove you.”

“It seemed like a diverting notion, that’s all”, I whispered.

“But, didn’t you think of the consequences?”

“What consequences? There has never been any!” I said louder, but with a choked voice. The thought of the abbot’s stern eyes made me feel small and frightened.

“I shall not say anymore than this; if one mocks the church, one mocks God, and if one thinks that God will not find a way to guide his straying lambs, one is, not that it needs saying, senseless.”

Brother Thomas shook his head and ushered me into the refectory without another word. He didn’t even give me the opportunity to answer him, but at any rate, I had nothing to say.

Alvin caught up with me as I was on my way to the privy behind the kitchen area.

“Where are you going?” he asked with a testy voice grabbing me by the arm. I hesitated, watching his brown eyes as they fixed me with a glare that was so typical for him. It was the irritable, bitter look of a young man loosing a battle with the spoilt child inside him.

“I was going to have a pee, if you don’t mind”, I answered mildly and removed his hand from my arm.

“Well then I’ll go with you!” he declared, as if he did not trust me and thought I would run off.

“Fine”, I answered.

The privy was a close hut, inside was a wooden raising to the right, with four holes in it and wooden covers with handles over. I took my time and he sat next to me scowling at me until I lost my temper.

“What is it?” I demanded to know.

“You told!” was all he said.

I let my frock drop and stared at him – I had forgotten what he would say. We had always had an unspoken vow never to tell on each other and I had broken it without thinking of him. I turned away. I had been selfishly worrying about myself, but now I realised that since it had been his idea, he might be punished worse than I would.

“I’m sorry”, I murmured as I tried to rethink what I had said to the abbot.

“Why?”

“Because he was…” I began, but rephrased, “I think I was ashamed of it and felt… I don’t know what exactly, but he seemed to want to… I don’t know, be kind.”

“He was just being kind to make you blab your big mouth!”

I didn’t want to believe him, but that sentiment got to me and I shivered. He might just have wanted to lure me into trusting him so that he got the confession he needed. I swallowed hard.

“You don’t really think so, do you?” I said doubtingly.

“He is a snake!” there was no doubt in Alvin’s voice.

I shook my head and left the privy. The thoughts swirled through my mind, I couldn’t believe that Alvin was right, that he had been kind only to make me talk.

I decided to go to the chapel and pray, I needed to think and I hoped that God would listen and give me some guidance, despite the fact that I had been neglecting my praying lately.

However, I didn’t get there. Suddenly Brother Walter stood in front of me, a condescending look on his face. I stopped and bowed my head humbly, since he was my superior and I was already in so much trouble.

“My, my”, he said smugly. “Have you hit your head on something, Brother Lawrence?”

“No, Brother”, I answered with a wry face that I quickly straightened out.

“Well, good for you”, he said with a sarcastic smile that turned dire. “Father Matthew wishes to see you and that nuisance, Brother Alvin.”

“Now?” I swallowed.

“Immediately”, Brother Walter answered coldly.

I had been in the abbot’s private study many times, and stood before the kind and compassionate Father Oswald. The old man had always had a sad face and pleading eyes that met mine and begged me to change – I hadn’t.

This was different. I stood at Alvin’s left and watched the pattern of the carpet – this was one of the few rooms in the abbey that actually had carpets – it was very obscure and I had to stop following the twists and turns, since I was beginning to feel faint. Though, the faintness might’ve come from the growing apprehension I felt. I was now sure that he would throw me out of the abbey.

To the right of the abbot stood Brother Walter and Brother Thomas both watching the abbot expecting him to begin.

“As I earlier told Brother Lawrence and now will tell you, Brother Alvin, I am a fairly reasonable man and all I wish to hear from you is a confession and I will ease the penance inflicted on you”, Father Matthew said with an adamant voice.

“Well, I’m not guilty of anything!” My head flew up and I stared at him, feeling betrayed.

“Oh?” Father Matthew turned and glanced at Brother Walter who shook his head slightly a distrustful look on his face. “Is that so?”

“I had nothing to do with it, and I am sure Brother Lawrence has not said otherwise, since that would be a profound lie”, he said I swallowed hard and looked down.

“Brother Lawrence?” Brother Thomas said doubtingly.

“Please, Brother Thomas? Allow me to do the questioning”, the abbot said gently.

“Forgive me, Father”, Brother Thomas said quickly.

“Brother Lawrence has said nothing, not exactly”, the abbot continued doubtfully. “However he gave the impression – or at least I took his silent reply as an assent. Was I wrong to do so, brother?”

He had walked up to us, and standing before me, lifted my chin between thumb and forefinger, gently making me look up at him. I winced.

“I didn’t mean to… to suggest that… that my brother was…” I whispered with a trembling voice.

“I understand”, he nodded sympathetically letting me off. “If this is the case, then I suppose you may be allowed to leave, Brother Alvin. I have no reason to believe that either you or Brother Lawrence should lie to me.”

Alvin left without so much as a look at me and I felt like crying. It was dreadfully unfair that I would have to take the whole blame, but what could I do?

“Brother Lawrence are you ready to undergo penance?” Father Matthew said sternly and I looked up.

“Y-yes, Father”, I whispered.

“I have decided that your penance will be a birching. You may choose to perform the birching yourself, but it might feel easier if it’s done for you. And then a week, or more, of fasting and prayer.”

I shivered and began to sob, as quietly as I ever could – I didn’t want Brother Walter to see me cry. I had had enough of his smugness for one day.

“Please, Father, he has never gone through something like this”, Brother Thomas pleaded for my sake. “He has no comprehension of what will be done to him.”

Yes I did. I understood it all too well, and I was terrified.

“Perhaps you should give us some privacy, brothers”, Father Matthew said with a calm, quiet voice. When we were left alone I found myself trembling as he walked over to the window facing the garden. “You must of course give your consent”, he said to my reflection in the glass.

“M-my consent?”

“Your consent”, he repeated now turning to face me. His eyes were unwavering and his face showed either compassion or anger.

“And if I say no…” I whispered, but my voice broke.

“I wouldn’t advice it, but it is up to you”, he said.

“What… what will happen if I do?” I forced myself to ask, though my fear of what the answer might be nearly choked me. He kept his glance firm while he walked closer to me, but there was kindness in the light hand he put on my shoulder.

“Nothing will happen, child”, he assured me softly, “but then I must ask you; if you are not prepared to repent before God for an obvious wrong, then why are you here?”

I felt as if everything I knew was running through my fingers like sand. Tears of distress and anger filled my eyes. I had been safe here, it had been warm and friendly, and nobody wanted to hurt me, but now it was all changing rapidly and it was all because of him. I tried not to cry, but my eyes stung sharply and I felt the warm rills of tears slowly finding their way down my cheeks again.

“There now”, his gentle hand stroke my shoulder and upper arm, “how can I make this easier for you?” he asked and directed the question to something in the distance.

“I swear I will never do anything like it again, Father”, I trembled as his grip tightened. “I swear it!”

“Don’t swear, I don’t abide swearing”, was his only reply to my plea and I felt as if doomsday was upon me, at the very least. “I am prepared to be as lenient as your conscience will allow, Brother”, he continued after a short silence.

I wondered briefly if I still had a conscience, or if I had lost that someplace many years ago. But where else did this gnawing shame I felt come from, this inopportune feeling that I did deserve a good thrashing and that I, if I had still had a father would have surely received one from him?

I let out a long doleful sigh as a token of my resignation and nodded as I lacked the words to tell him I was ready. He needed no words to understand, which in itself was relieving.

“Will you do this on your own?” he asked and without reflecting on either tone or looking at him I shook my head hard. “Then I ask you to remove your frock and kneel by the stool there.”

I looked at the stool, it was low with four sturdy legs and a leather-covered seat, and it had up till now merely been used as a perch for Brother Walter.

Closing my eyes and blushing intensely, I pulled my frock over my head exposing a lanky frame that was as bare as the day I my mother bore me. I could suddenly feel the chill in the room despite the summer outside and I shivered. The abbot misunderstood my shudder and said in a soothing voice: “Don’t be frightened, my child, it’ll be over soon.” It was strangely comforting to hear his calm voice, although it did nothing to lessen my dread or warm my freezing body.

I kneeled as if for prayers and he put his hand on the back of my head, moving me forward without force until I lay across the stool. The cold sweat on my chest glued my skin to the leather and I clung to the legs of the stool with desperation. Hearing him move behind me caused my body to shudder from something other than the chill and I was ready to stand and flee, but I didn’t. I didn’t because I had nowhere to run, I didn’t because I was too frightened to move and I didn’t because, in all honesty, there was nothing to run from.

One part of me, the still reasoning part of me, knew that this wasn’t dangerous, that this man would not let harm come to me. It was my conscience that made the rules. If I thought I had had enough he would stop, or so I had understood him. He moved again behind me, walking away and then again towards me.

“Father?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“I can’t…” I began not knowing how to continue since those were not the words I had wanted to say.

“You can and you will. Not that I’m forcing you, but once this first step is taken, there is not many who goes back”, his patient tone and then a kind hand stroking my hair and I was back to my first resolve. “Pray, child, and you’ll see you’ll soon forget all about the pain.”

If I’d had more practise praying that might’ve been true, though I sincerely doubt it. None of the beatings I’d had up until that day was ever so bad, or so it felt. The sound was like water tossed from a high window onto cobblestones – again and again – and the pain was too fierce, too acute to be described in mere words. I didn’t try to rise and all I could think of was the agony – the blazing intensity of it; there was not a prayer in the world that I could remember at that point.

I can remember crying, shrill cries of anguish, but I cannot remember that they were mine, or that that was when he stopped. The tears I’d wept before he started had been from anger and guilt combined with mere fright. The tears that now ran freely were from a combination of distress and relief.

“Shush now, shush, lad”, he bent forward and gathered me up against his chest and I huddled like a terrified lamb. For awhile I was what he kept calling me – a child – and I was safe there. It was a new safety, not just the safety that comes from finding refuge, but the safety that comes from finding home.