Abbot Gunter sat in his chamber, penknife in hand, furiously scraping the filth off of the extremely expensive vellum. He had to be careful, lest he tear the vellum. If he did, he would need to sew it back together. Normally when that happened, he would send the parchment over to the nunnery for them to do it, but Abbot Gunter did not want the nuns to see such lecherous scribbles. As he scraped off a drawing of some man’s arsehole, Gunter briefly considered just burning the entire thing. But that would be a waste of perfectly good vellum and the calves that had been slaughtered would have died for nothing. 

Why in God’s good name did Brother Æthelwine have to be so skilled at creating intricate line art? Why couldn’t he have just drawn the idea of cock penetrating an arsehole rather than every single vein and crack?

Abbot Gunter’s fury grew. Brother Æthelwine had a lot of audacity to be drawing erotic and sensual scenes after he had taken a vow of celibacy. He had even more audacity to be drawing trash of his fellow monk. Gunter was somewhat comforted in the fact that Brother Æthelwine would have to look him in the eye every day for the rest of Gunter’s life knowing that Gunter had seen and scrapped off his sin. Perhaps the embarrassment of it all would humble Brother Æthelwine. (Gunter doubted it, but it was a nice thought to have.) At the very least, Gunter would be justified in beating Brother Æthelwine in chapter and excommunicating him for a few weeks if he wasn’t able to get the money for the ultramarine.

Gunter stopped scraping the arsehole and put his penknife down. 

“The one who is slow to anger is better than the mighty,” Abbot Gunter muttered to himself. “One who rules his spirit, than he who takes a city.” He took a few deep breaths. “A fool vents all of his anger, but a wise man brings himself under control.” He took a few more deep breaths and remembered the words of The Rule of Saint Benedict:

An Abbot who is worthy to be over a monastery should always remember what he is called, and live up to the name of Superior…let the Abbot be sure that any lack of profit the master of the house may find in the sheep will be laid to the blame of the shepherd. On the other hand, if the shepherd has bestowed all his pastoral diligence on a restless, unruly flock and tried every remedy for their unhealthy behavior, then he will be acquitted at the Lord’s Judgment and may say to the Lord with the Prophet: “I have not concealed Your justice within my heart; Your truth and Your salvation I have declared. But they have despised and rejected me.” And then finally let death itself, irresistible, punish those disobedient sheep under his charge.

Gunter sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair. He was far too neglectful with his flock and was reaping what he had sown. He would have to actually do his job and punish Brother Æthelwine, but in a reasonable manner. He glanced back at the drawings. Brother Æthelwine truly was wasting his talent by drawing this obscenity. 

He went back to scraping the ink. Finally he was done with the first page and moved onto the next one. Gunter yelped when he saw the figure of the man with his entire forearm up Æthelwine’s ass. He put his penknife down and looked at the drawing closer. The arm was up to the elbow. 

…Was that even possible? 

No. Gunter decided. There’s no way this is possible. This is…a fantasy. A fantasy I do not understand, but it’s not possible…how am I going to stand before the Lord on Judgement Day and explain how I allowed one of my monks to think this? God, I wish that idiot didn’t let me see this!

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Gunter quickly shut the sketchbook. He walked to the door, unlatched the lock and opened it. The Queen of the Forest stood in front of him with Brother Hywel slightly behind her.

“Your Grace,” Abbot Gunter said.

The Queen of the Forest walked into his chambers. Brother Hywel followed her and stood behind Abbot Gunter, the ever obedient chaperone. He kept his eyes down, but Abbot Gunter could tell the man found this all very amusing. That annoyed Gunter slightly. 

The Queen of the Forest folded her hands. “I have spoken to my son.”

Abbot Gunter nodded wearily. 

“Tonight, my human slaves need to sleep.”

“They are welcome to stay in the guesthouse,” Abbot Gunter said. “Brother Hrodberht will prepare your rooms and theirs.”

She nodded. “Tomorrow, I will look at my son’s artwork to ensure any money I gift him will be used for something…less lewd.”

Abbot Gunter’s heart leapt with joy. He tried to keep the eagerness off his face. 

“Ah, thank you–”

“But I will only gift him the money if I find the art appropriate.”

“It is.”

“I expect to see every piece of his that is currently still in the monastery.” She paused. “Besides the sketchbook. Everything else, I must see.” 

“I can confirm you’ve already seen one of Brother Æthelwine’s wood carvings,” Abbot Gunter gestured to his crozier in the corner. “He’s also painted several murals in my chambers. You are welcome to look at them now. The sun has still not yet set and the setting sun illuminates his talent.”

The Queen of the Forest nodded. “Show me.”

Abbot Gunter went to his chambers. Brother Hywel followed them behind. 

The three stood in Abbot Gunter’s sleeping quarters. The Queen of the Forest raised an eyebrow at the metal bars carved with sigils on the windows. Her eyebrow raised further when she noticed the sigil covered sword by the bed and the poppet partially tucked under the blanket. Abbot Gunter casually sat down on his bed and slid his blanket fully over the doll. He was embarrassed he had allowed it to be seen. He had no desire to explain to the Queen of the Forest and his cellarer that the doll was the only way he could sleep properly at night. Brother Hywel pretended not to notice. Her eyebrows raised even further at the sight of the long strips of dirty breast binding cloth Gunter had left on his wooden chest in his frantic attempts to find some clean ones. Brother Hywel sat on them. He crossed his legs.

“I hope you don’t mind we are sitting, Your Grace,” Brother Hywel said, “I’ve got a bad knee and Abbot Gunter has a bad leg.”

Gunter was fully aware that Brother Hywel was lying about having a bad knee, but he wasn’t lying that Gunter had a bad leg. He had broken it over a decade ago quite badly and sometimes it still gave him trouble.

“I will forgive you both this time.” The Queen of the Forest said primly as she looked around the room at the murals. “My son mentioned your ill health, Abbot Gunter.” 

“There are good days and bad days.” Irritation at Brother Æthelwine for telling everyone about his health seeped into the polite but vague words. 

“Yes, I am sure there are.” 

The words were dripping with implied meaning and Abbot Gunter’s blood ran cold. Could she know his secret? Did his monks know? Sister Maud and Brother Finnguine knew, but as far as he was aware, no one else did. Then again, he had told everyone he had surgery on a lump and was now a eunuch. Abbot Gunter wanted to believe that was what she meant, but her cold, dignified but sly tone indicated she knew more. He was also aware that any attempts to change the subject would be looked down upon.

Instead he nodded. “I am grateful to our Lord that he has allowed me to live.”

“Your Lord. Not mine.” The Queen of the Forest said.

“Yes. Exactly.” Abbot Gunter smiled but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced over to Brother Hywel. The man’s usually calm and personable demeanour seemed to be slipping into worry and concern. Once Brother Hywel noticed Abbot Gunter’s glance, his face became neutral once more. This annoyed Gunter greatly. 

The Queen of the Forest continued to look at the murals. They were of their Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ sitting in Heaven, ruling over the angels and great saints. Sigils of protection against the demonic were hidden but still visible if one looked closely amongst the figures. And the Queen of the Forest was looking closely. 

“I take it you have a demon problem,” She smiled coldly.

“Yes,” Abbot Gunter said, his voice without a bit of tremble. “A severe one.”

The Queen of the Forest nodded slowly.

“And they attack monks?”

She knew. 

“Yes. Severely.” This time Abbot Gunter’s voice wavered completely against his will.

“Brother Æthelwine has helped us with preventing them from breaching our walls,” Brother Hywel said. “He’s painted sigils around the monastery to protect us.” 

“Yes, I can see that,” The Queen of the Forest’s tone was slightly patronizing. “Humans are certainly weak….Æthelwine must be truly dedicated to your Christian faith.” 

There was something loaded in those words. 

“Not as much as he should be, as evidenced by his sketchbook,” Abbot Gunter said. 

She nodded. 

“He is a monk,” Abbot Gunter continued, “And as a member of my flock, we must all use our talents to protect the least and last of us.”

“You truly are a good mother,” The Queen of the Forest said.

Abbot Gunter’s stomach dropped. 

“I–I beg your pardon?” 

“I think our Grace meant ‘father,’” Brother Hywel said.

“I said what I said,” The Queen of the Forest said. “Fathers do not notice these types of things. Especially not human males.”

“We are more perceptive than we are given credit for,” Abbot Gunter said. 

“Certainly,” The Queen of the Forest said smoothly. “Enough with the niceties. As you are a perceptive human male, as you claim, I have one question for you: is my son a Christian?” 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Bible quotes in this chapter:

Proverbs 16:32 (World English Bible)

Proverbs 29:11 (World English Bible)

Quotes from The Rule of Saint Benedict: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/50040/pg50040-images.html#chapter-2