The Abbot's Agreement by Mel Starr Page B

cares little for a son-in-law’s appearance,” I said. “If his daughter wed the son of the lord of a manor his position would be much enhanced.”
    “Aye. Sure enough.”
    I thanked the man for his time, and he replied with a toothless grin. Well he might. He had earned a penny for but two cups of ale.
    “Lots of fellows who’d be displeased to know a novice of the abbey was payin’ court to Maude,” Arthur said as we left the ale house.
    “Aye. It will be well to speak to them. But first I will visit Abbot Thurstan and see how he fares.”

H e did not fare well.
    I found Brother Guibert attending his abbot, both men silent, waiting. I thought Abbot Thurstan to be asleep, so spoke to the infirmarer.
    “Does he complain of pain?”
    It was the abbot who replied. “He does not,” the old monk said softly.
    “The hemp seeds,” Brother Guibert said, “seem effective. He has slept some this morning.”
    “Has he taken any more of the seeds since before dawn?”
    “Nay.”
    “It is near to noon. Perhaps he should have another potion, and again after compline, so he may sleep the better.”
    The infirmarer rose from his bench and silently left the chamber. I took his place upon the bench, to sit with Abbot Thurstan until Brother Guibert returned.
    “For many years,” the abbot said softly, “I have desired death. But now that it is near, I fear it.”
    “All men do,” I said, “if they be truthful. ’Tis a great mystery, but all will be plain when you see the Lord Christ and gaze upon His blessed face.”
    “Aye. But I fear many years will pass before I am able to do so.”
    I knew then what Abbot Thurstan feared.
    “My sins are many,” he continued, “and I have not confessed them in chapter as I ought, as I require of those under me. My pride will send me to purgatory for many years. And now ’tis too late to confess… What penance can I do from my bed?”
    “Your faith is strong?” I asked.
    “Oh, aye. But I am a weak man in many ways. My sins will not soon be purged.”
    “Did not the Lord Christ already do so?” I said. “Upon His cross, where He died for men’s sins?”
    “Aye, He did so… but my sins…”
    All men’s sins loom large before them, I think, when death draws near. ’Twould be well for our souls if we were more attentive to our sins when we are hale and hearty.
    “My punishment will be great,” the abbot said after a time of silence.
    “Why? Was not the Lord Christ’s death enough to gain a man’s salvation?”
    “Nay. A man must suffer for his unrighteousness.”
    “I remember, when a student at Baliol College, discussing this matter. One read from the first epistle of St. John, where the apostle wrote, ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ Another read from St. Paul’s letter to the Colossians: ‘Now He has reconciled in the body of His flesh through death, to present you holy, and blameless, and irreproachable in His sight – if indeed you continue in the faith.’”
    The abbot said nothing for a moment, and closed his eyes as if he sought sleep. Then, with eyes yet closed, he spoke. “Was Master Wyclif one of these?”
    “Nay. But he was present.”
    “I thought as much. His views are becoming known. How is it you recall these verses so well?”
    “When I heard them it seemed to me that they contradicted the teaching I had always heard. Next day I sought a Bible, and found the scriptures true as they were read. I took pen and parchment and copied them, and having read these passages often, I now remember them well.
    “Do these scriptures not bring you comfort?” I continued. “Do you confess your sins?”
    “Daily,” Abbot Thurstan replied.
    “Then believe the apostle when he wrote that you are cleansed from all unrighteousness. Why must you be cleansedof sin in purgatory when the Lord Christ has taken away all unrighteousness?”
    “I retained you to seek a