“Fuck,” Gunter cursed as soon as the Queen of the Forest had left the church. Maud looked at him expectantly, with an eyebrow raised.
“We don’t need to make this a diplomatic incident,” Abbot Gunter said.
Maud rolled her eyes.
“You can’t—I’d rather you not curse the Queen of the Forest. She’s an important ally against the Northmen.”
“I think you're being foolish.”
“Maud, she knows.”
“She knows?”
Gunter nodded.
“Then she needs to be taken care of.”
“You are not killing her,” Abbot Gunter hissed.
Maud crossed her arms.
“You are not. As your abbot, I forbid it. Understood?”
Maud blinked in surprise. Gunter never pulled rank on her. No one ever pulled rank on her. She glared at him, her barely suppressed rage nearly but not quite bubbling to the surface in maleficium.
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Gunter said. “You know it's a bad idea.”
“...Who the hell told her?”
Gunter threw up his hands and shrugged. “I’m not worried about that right now.”
“You should be.”
“Well, I’m not. Not right now.”
Maud gave him a skeptical look. She said nothing for a moment as Gunter crossed his arms and then put a hand over his mouth. Maud was still furious he hadn’t told her the Queen of the Forest had arrived last night, that she knew, and that he wouldn’t let her take care of this very big problem (after all, if he was forced into a nunnery, then they might get a new abbot and one not as lenient than he was…and she had control of the nunnery. If Gunter were to become a nun, there was a possibility about a power struggle between them both and Maud didn’t want to have to deal with that). Despite it all, against her better judgement, she was sympathetic to his plight. Maud glanced around the church. They were completely alone, besides the relics and the eyes of God staring down at them.
“Shame about the pigment,” she murmured. “The sisters were excited.”
“Oh, she’s still going to give us the money,” Abbot Gunter said, heading towards the church doors. “Mark my words, she will.”
Maud followed after him, wondering what exactly Gunter’s plan was. He was a sensible man in almost every matter. The only things he wasn’t sensible about were books and the scriptorium. Maud put on a neutral face. It wouldn’t benefit her in the long term if she ever looked worried.
Brother Æthelwine was now sitting up in the infirmary’s wood rope bed. His back was feeling better. It was feeling much better, in fact. He could probably go back to working in the scriptorium today if he took it easy. Brother Æthelwine credited it to the structural integrity of the rope lattice the infirmary mattress was supported by. He could never tighten the rope lattice that held up his own mattress in his cell right. It was always slightly saggy, no matter how hard he tried. He also had too much pride to ask someone to help him out with it. (Which, upon reflection, was not a good thing for a monk. He was supposed to be humble, after all. But he was also an elf. And as an elf he had a culturally ingrained sense of superiority hammered into him from a very young age. It was a difficult habit to break, even after his over a decade of monkhood.)
But in the meantime, Brother Æthelwine ate his porridge with Brother John, Brother Ælfric, and Brother Wilbur. Brother Wilbur was having a bad day, so Brother John fed him porridge so the injured monk would be able to receive proper nourishment and to avoid any messy clean up.
The heavy wooden infirmary door opened. Abbot Gunter stood in the doorway with Sister Maud as his ever present (and angry) shadow.
“Did she love my art?” Brother Æthelwine asked eagerly.
“I need to talk to you alone,” Abbot Gunter said. “Brother John, Brother Ælfric, Brother Wilbur, you are dismissed.”
Brother Æthelwine swallowed as the other monks left. (John only with some grumbling.) As much as he respected and liked his abbot, it was never a good sign if he wanted to talk to you alone.
“Quick, come quick!” Hamon burst into the scriptorium, “He’s being thrown out!”
The monks and nuns looked up from their work.
“What are you doing out of the classroom?” Brother Edwin, the librarian and head of the scriptorium, demanded.
“Brother Æthelwine is being thrown out of the monastery!” Hamon shouted.
“WHAT?!” Brother Wulfric sprang to his feet and sprinted out of the scriptorium. The other monastics, including Brother Edwin, followed. Hamon was in the near lead and it took Brother Edwin a minute to catch up to him as they ran through the fields towards the cloisters. (He wasn’t as young as he used to be!)
“How do you know this?” Brother Edwin demanded.
“I was coming back from the privy?” Hamon offered.
Brother Edwin squinted. The privy was far away from the monastery’s exit. He did not believe Hamon for a moment and wondered how this lying youth was still blessed with angelic visions. Hamon had been a well behaved child before he hit puberty! (Granted, Brother Edwin received angelic visions as well and he was also regularly swyving Sister Bertha so in the grand scheme of things, Brother Edwin considered that perhaps lying was a lesser evil. It was placed after adultery in the Ten Commandments….No! Lying was still a great evil! Either way, as a senior monk, it was Edwin’s responsibility and moral duty to get to the bottom of this and correct Hamon!)
“Were you spying?” Brother Edwin asked.
“No!” Hamon said, rather indignantly. “I was coming back from the privy!”
“Swear to God, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and all the angels and saints you were coming back from the privy!”
Hamon swallowed nervously.
Luckily for Hamon, the swarm of monastics had reached the cloister and Brother Edwin had gotten caught behind some of the nuns as they filed through the cloister doors. Hamon sighed in relief. He pushed past some monks and managed to catch up to Brother Wulfric as they all entered the lawn near the front gates. There, Abbot Gunter stood calm and dignified as Brother Æthelwine looked remorseful and the Queen of the Forest looked extremely annoyed.
Oh, this was going to be good.
Abbot Gunter was quite annoyed when his flock frantically approached. He didn’t let it show. He had a plan and this made it more difficult to enact, but he could do it. He prayed his whispers would be too quiet for his nosy monastics with excellent and seemingly inhuman abilities to hear. He would also speak and reprimand Brother Finnguine, the novice master, for not keeping a better eye on Hamon later.
But right now, he’d make an example out of Brother Æthelwine.
“Brother Æthelwine,” Abbot Gunter said loud enough for everyone to hear, “You have broken your vows and have lied about your capability to gather donations. As per my original statement, I am excommunicating you.”
Brother Æthelwine had the sense to pretend to look sad at this declaration.
“I don’t believe you,” The Queen of the Forest said.
“Pardon?” Gunter asked.
“I don’t think you’re actually throwing him out,” she sneered. “I think this is all a big ploy to get me to give you the money.”
“It’s not,” Abbot Gunter said calmly. “He has stolen expensive vellum, defaced sacred materials with obscene erotic sinful filth, lied to my face and yours.” He leaned in close, so only the Queen could hear. “Mother to mother, I know how much you must miss your son.”
He stepped back. The look of shock on the elven woman's face was almost worth the risk of admitting his maternal status. Gunter turned, gestured to his flock, and strode back into the monastery. All but Brother Æthelwine followed. The Queen grabbed her son by the arm, escorted him protectively to a spare horse one of her entourage had scrambled off of, and soon they were riding away.
About an hour after Abbot Gunter officially excommunicated Brother Æthelwine from the monastery, the elf came sauntering back with a big smug smile on his face and an even bigger pouch of jingling coins. He grabbed the hemp rope hanging beside the gate and rang the doorbell.
Brother Christopher, the porter, poked his head outside his watch tower. “You’ve been excommunicated. Go away.”
“Fetch the abbot!” Brother Æthelwine shouted. “I have the money!”
“So? You’ve been excommunicated.”
“Christopher, if you don’t open this fucking door right now, I’ll give you elf shot.”
Brother Christopher made a big show of rolling his eyes, but he opened the door. Brother Æthelwine started to skip inside, thought better of it when he felt a twinge in his back, and walked at a reasonable pace to Abbot Gunter’s chambers. Once he arrived at the door, he knocked.
“Enter.”
Abbot Gunter was waiting patiently for him at his desk.
“It worked.” Brother Æthelwine held up the money.
“How did you annoy her?” Abbot Gunter asked, his face unsmiling but his tone pleased.
“Well, after I denied Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ once–upon her insistence, I shall do whatever penance you require of me for that–I talked in depth about marriage, how I wanted to get married to a woman who would let me do as I please, who would obey my every command, and of course, who was extremely hairy as I am impotent with anyone who is not. And of course, this woman had to be an elf. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen a naked elf, sir, but it would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than find a hairy elf.”
Abbot Gunter gave him a look that very much indicated Brother Æthelwine was pushing his luck quite badly.
Brother Æthelwine coughed. “Anyway, it’s all here and it won’t disappear. It’s actual money, in case you were worried about that.”
“What does she want in repayment?” Abbot Gunter asked, folding his hands.
“Uhhhhh….for me to stay at this monastery for the rest of my earthly days.”
“What does she want in repayment?” He repeated.
“No, that’s it. She made it very clear that I am a disgrace to the family and that if I am ever excommunicated again, I shall not be welcome home. She may also insist on visiting once every so often to ensure I am remaining chaste. But elf time is different from human time. That might be in like a century. So, not your problem, certainly.”
“Does she still think you worthwhile enough that she is willing to protect us from raiders? And that Brother John can trade for his medicine?”
“Sir, with all due respect, she thinks I’m a disgrace, not a lost cause!” Brother Æthelwine sat down on the stool exclusively reserved for naughty oblates and bad monks. It was less comfortable than the old one the abbot had had. Brother Æthelwine was not quite sure what happened to that one, but he had once heard the abbot swearing and throwing things in a fit of rage and then the next week there was a new stool. “My mother loves me as her son, but hates me as a Christian, monk, and artist.”
Brother Æthelwine looked at him expectantly. Abbot Gunter sighed.
“I am sorry to hear that, Brother Æthelwine.” The older man said.
Brother Æthelwine sometimes wished Abbot Gunter would be more willing to provide counsel without him having to explicitly ask for it.
“Anyway, I suppose I just have to learn to live with it,” he said. “I’m sure my mother will come around.”
“Mothers sometimes do,” Abbot Gunter said.
They stared at each other.
“Thank you for finding this donation,” Abbot Gunter said after a few moments. “You will get priority to use it.”
“Really, you mean that?”
“Yes. You risked your own mother’s wrath and her disappointment. You can paint whatever you like in my psalter–as long as it is chaste and godly.”
“Of course! That, er, that art was for my own, er, use.”
Abbot Gunter’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. He stood, went over to his basin, and washed his hands.
“You are dismissed.”
“I didn’t mean like that–!”
“You are dismissed.”
Brother Æthelwine decided to take the opportunity to flee and fled.
