The days passed. Lord Eustance permitted his monastic cousin access to the chapel for the divine office. Brother Gilbert attended religiously as his bleeding lessened and eventually ceased for the month. Thierry did not particularly want to attend every single service the monk led on his own, but it was his duty to do so. The knight, as he watched the monk’s small rosebud mouth form the words of the psalms, could not help but admire the man’s dedication to the Lord.
All things considered.
Thierry swallowed. Brother Gilbert’s voice was strong and clear as he chanted the Latin psalms. Thierry wasn’t sure which one he was on or how soon it would be until they could finally leave…had Brother Gilbert always looked so womanly? Or was it the light? Thierry had never any desire for marriage. Flirting with Matilda was all good fun, but he had never any desire for outright seduction towards the feminine sex. Thierry had never considered the other possibilities.
Brother Gilbert is a man for God’s sake! Thierry thought. Mostly a man. He was a man. He’s…whatever he is now. Am I attracted to him?...No. He’s too much of a woman….I think.
Once Terce ended, the monk looked over at his companion. The knight looked back in the creeping morning light of the chapel window.
“Er, so, I was thinking we would go on a ride.”
Brother Gilbert nodded his head towards the chapel door before walking out.
“Right, sorry,” Thierry followed after. Once they were in the hallway, he said again, “Let’s get out of town, eh?”
“Not through Dartmoor.”
“No, of course not. I was thinking we would ride the River Dart. On a boat! There’s plenty to see. What do you think?”
“Is it…safe?”
“Very safe. Several sea monks live in the River Dart, so there’s always a defence against demons.”
Gilbert nodded slowly. “I will go on a boat ride with you.”
Thierry grinned, relieved at how easy it had been to convince the moody monk to have some fun. “Excellent. We shall stop by the kitchens and get more pies from Matilda!”
Matilda and Thierry flirted merrily in the kitchen as Gilbert watched them bitterly. Briefly John’s face flashed in his mind. John when he was tender towards him and smiling. Not when…Gilbert refused to let himself think about it. About the sin he had committed. Instead, he leaned against the wall and prayed. He had not been able to pray for so long without consequences. Now he prayed whenever he could.
It was a relief to do so.
“Is that acceptable to you, Brother Gilbert?” Matilda asked, snapping the monk out of his thoughts.
“Pardon?”
“I’ve packed you and Sir Thierry here some lovely venison pies with a few cakes. Is that acceptable to you?”
“I cannot eat meat. I am a monk.”
“You ate meat the last time I fed you.”
Gilbert’s blood rushed to his face. “I was given dispensation then. I…I cannot eat meat now.”
Matilda raised an eyebrow.
“It’s best to feed him some vegetables,” Thierry said quickly and with a charming smile. Matilda smiled back.
“I shall see what I can do.”
They walked out of the kitchens with a basket full of meat pies, cakes, a loaf of bread, and hastily roasted vegetables. Matilda had considered making pottage but Thierry helpfully pointed out that they were going on a boat ride and he didn’t want to risk any spillage. So roasted vegetables and bread it was. She also gave them a wineskin with red wine to share. Matilda watered it down when Thierry wasn’t looking. Gilbert noticed but said nothing. She had winked at him when she noticed him noticing. He had frowned and turned his head away.
Gilbert followed Thierry out of Nottess Castle. He felt as though every eye was on him. Why wouldn’t they be? Surely word had spread what he was. What he had done. Gilbert clutched as his prayer rope he kept tied to his belt. Usually he kept it in his pouch next to his knife. Gilbert’s knife had been taken away before he left the monastery. The abbot had permitted him to keep his prayer rope only after Gilbert swore on the abbey’s bible and to their Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ he would not use it to imitate Judas again. Gilbert was like Judas in many ways, but he would not betray the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
Thierry either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the stares. Instead, he prattled on cheerfully about the River Dart and what they were likely to see.
“If the current and weather allows it, we will visit the sea monks’ little abbey,” Thierry said. “Would you like that?”
“I suppose so, yes.”
“Then we shall!” Thierry went to clap the monk on the shoulder, but stopped before touching Gilbert. “Ah. My apologies.”
Gilbert bit the inside of his cheek. He clutched his prayer rope tighter. Did Thierry not want to touch him because of what he had done? Or because he was considerate about what had been done to him? Another haunting thought entered Gilbert’s brain: did Thierry see him as a woman?
The monk resisted the urge to run up to the top of the bailey and throw himself off it.
Gilbert sat on the little wooden row boat, opposite of Thierry. The knight smiled at him as he rowed. The monk glanced at Thierry’s arms. Even through his sleeves, he could see they were rather muscular, probably from all the sword work he did. John wasn’t–hadn’t been –wasn’t particularly muscular.
Gilbert rested his chin on his hand. He stared out to the river bank and into the bustling town. They had just gotten into the boat a few minutes ago, so they had a little bit of time before they’d reach proper nature. The scars on his neck itched, but he didn’t dare scratch them and risk Thierry seeing. It had been bothersome enough hiding the scars from everyone. When strangers saw, they tended to ask questions the monk didn’t want to answer. Gilbert knew Thierry was clever enough to piece it together. Lord Eustace and Lady Eleanor had been. Their faces had been enough to tell him that. He didn’t need or want the knight’s pity. Not on what he prayed would be a semi-tolerable boat ride.
Thierry waved at a few men who waved back, before whispering to Gilbert, “Horrible knights, they are. One can barely hold a sword straight.”
“Is that an issue with most knights?” the monk asked.
“More than you’d think. Not me, of course.”
“What are their names?”
“Of those two?”
Gilbert nodded.
“Hugh and Hugh.” Thierry paused. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” Gilbert lied. He was going to bring the subject up to Lord Eustace as soon as he could. Poorly trained knights should not be at Notess. “How far is the abbey?”
“Perhaps about an hour or so down the river. Is that acceptable to you?”
Gilbert nodded. He resumed watching the world go by. Notess was a small town, yet the river here stank of shit. As subtly as he could, Gilbert covered his nose with his hand. He had spent nine months vomiting almost uncontrollably and had no desire to do it again. Thierry grinned.
“We’ll be away from the town soon. River smells better downstream. Promise!”
Gilbert scowled.
Thierry laughed despite his barely hidden annoyance. The surly monk’s attitude was slowly starting to get the better of him. He couldn’t show it. He was already on thin ice after the incident with Lady Eleanor. Lord Eustace had made that very clear.
Gilbert adjusted his white habit and stared down into the cloudy water. They were outside of town but not so far outside the water had cleared up. He wondered if Thierry would drag him out if he threw himself in.
“River is shallow here,” Thierry said cheerfully. “Barely up to my waist.”
“Still deep enough to drown in, in a habit,” Gilbert sneered.
“Not if the sea monks get you! Or the local selkie.”
“Selkies don’t come this far up the river.”
“Tell that to him.” Thierry nodded at the river bank. Gilbert turned his head in the direction of Thierry’s nod. He yelped. Laying on the riverbank, half in and half out of the water, was a nude man with extremely defined abdominal muscles and long grey hair. Under him was a seal skin.
“Hello!” Thierry shouted and waved.
The selkie glanced up. He gave a half committed waved and went back to sunbathing.
“He’s a bit of a recluse,” Thierry whispered. “But he does have a taste for female flesh.”
“In the sense that he eats them…?”
“In a way.”
Gilbert nodded slowly. Perhaps in the past he would have been shy about this sort of thing. But after what happened, after what had happened to him , and what he and John had done…
Gilbert glanced at the selkie as they drifted by. It was only when they were almost but not entirely out of sight, did he see a human woman come out of the trees and join the selkie. The monk couldn’t help but think, Lucky bastard.
Gilbert turned back towards Thierry. He tried not to let his jealousy of the selkie consume him. It was difficult. In the past he looked like that…somewhat like that. Sculpted muscles. Broad shoulders. Trim waist. Defined jawline. A cock. Masculine . Now…Why did it happen to him? Did God hate him? Had he done something wrong to deserve it? John hadn’t…
I hope she stabs him. He thought compulsively. Instantly full of regret, Gilbert closed his brown eyes, crossed himself and murmured a psalm for forgiveness.
“Miserere mei Deus secundum magnam misericordiam tuam et secundum multitudinem miserationum tuarum dele iniquitatem meam. Amplius lava me ab iniquitate mea et a peccato meo munda me. Quoniam iniquitatem meam ego cognosco et peccatum meum contra me est semper….Ecce enim in iniquitatibus conceptus sum et in peccatis concepit me mater mea….”
He stopped. Every child had been conceived in sin….even….
No, do not think about it. You promised yourself you would never think about it again and you will not. Gilbert opened his eyes. Thierry was staring at him.
“What?” Gilbert snapped.
Thierry grinned and nodded his head in the direction of the selkie. “You like what you saw?”
Gilbert’s eyes widened. “Are you implying I have unnatural feelings for the selkie?”
“Those wouldn’t be unnatural feelings.”
“I. Am. Not. A. Woman.”
“You blee–” Thierry stopped when he saw the absolute wrath on Gilbert’s face.
“The Bishop of Exeter and the Pope agree with me! Do you dare question the Pope’s authority? If you do, that is heresy! And heretics are burnt at the stake!”
“I didn’t know you had papal dispensation.”
“I do!” Gilbert’s voice squeaked unnaturally high. His face burned and he pulled his cowl over his face. “I do not wish to talk to you until we reach the abbey.”
Thierry grunted and rowed on.
Thierry rowed the boat up to the abbey. After the monk had threatened him with accusations of heresy, his annoyance had grown extremely great. However, he had promised Lord Eustace he would take Brother Gilbert to it. Thierry was a man of his word. The abbey itself was located in the middle of the vast inlet in the River Dart near Kingswear. It was mostly underwater for the monks, but it had a rather large section above the surface for pilgrims and souls the sea monks rescued. The section had a small dock, a chapel, a guesthouse, and infirmary. It was all rather small.
“Here we are, Brother Gilbert,” Thierry grunted as he rowed the boat towards the dock. Brother Gilbert nodded but said nothing. Thierry frowned. He had rowed all the way here and still couldn’t get a proper thank you? His arms ached, he had tried to make conversation (even if that had gone poorly), his flesh was sunburnt, he had watched the monk in case he tried to throw himself off the boat, and now nothing? In his anger, he couldn’t help but say, “No thank you? Nothing at all?”
The monk pulled back from him.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“You are welcome!”
“Thanks be to God, we are here.” Brother Gilbert faced towards the abbey. Thierry pulled up to the dock. No soul was there to help him, which added to his irritation. Hastily, Thierry stood up, rocking the little row boat. He jumped out of it and turned, just in time to see the now standing Brother Gilbert cry out, wave his arms a little, and fall backwards into the water.
The monk could swim, but not with his woollen habit pulling him further and further down. As Gilbert sank down, down, down, into the darkness he regretted ever wanting to jump off of Notess Castle or drown himself. He had not even thrown himself into the water! He had lost his balance when the boat rocked and fell in! Not even his death was his bodily choice. Gilbert screamed for help. Only bubbles escaped his wounded throat.
He sank further down into the depths. The pressure on his body grew painful as he ran out of air in his lungs. It reminded him of how the demon had pushed him to the ground, pinned him down, and physically castrated him before creating his body anew. The deeper into the darkness he went, the brighter Hellfire flashed before his eyes. Something swam by. In his terror, Gilbert saw the grinning glow of demonic eyes and felt It grip the back of his habit from above. The church may have thought a single demon couldn’t be in two places at once, but It clearly was! He struggled to free himself but once again, like before, it was too strong. He kicked and fought and finally broke free and sank deeper.
The demon swam by him again. It grabbed him around waist and before Gilbert could escape, It raced them both to the surface.
“God’s teeth,” Thierry sighed. He waited a moment for the monk to resurface. The way Brother Gilbert had plunged into the water was surely ineffective for any sort of proper attempt on his life. Brother Gilbert did not surface. Thierry started to feel nervous. He really started to feel nervous when only bubbles emerged.
Thierry kicked off his tan leather shoes and dove into the water. He swam down deep in the direction of the sinking white fabric. Thierry thanked God that the monk was a Cistercian. If the man was a Benedictine, he’d have to hope a sea monk spotted him. Thierry grabbed his habit and began swimming back up. Then the monk started fighting him on it! Thierry struggled to keep his hold. Brother Gilbert escaped his grasp and sank deeper. Thierry let out a scream of frustration in the water, partially hoping the sea monks would hear and help. He didn’t even have to hope for long as something swam by him, another thing grabbed his tunic, and within moments he was at the surface. The current had taken him a little ways away from the dock.
“Hello!” A friendly voice said. “It seems you’ve fallen in!”
Thierry turned around. A fat sea monk with red hair and buck teeth was behind him. In front of him, another fat sea monk, this one with black hair and sharp teeth, had pulled Gilbert up to the surface. Thierry was about to scold him for being foolish, stupid, and selfish for thinking he could kill himself like that, but the monk was not gasping for breath. He was sobbing. He sobbed like a woman. It made Thierry feel uncomfortable. After all, he had only been teasing before. (At least that is what he had told himself.)
“ Domine, adjuva me, Domine, adjuva me,” The monk gripped the sea monk’s shoulders. His knuckles were so white Thierry feared they would burst out of his skin.
“You’re safe, you’re safe.” His sea monk said, “I’ve got a good grasp on you.” The sea monk looked past Thierry and towards the building on the surface. “Claudius! CLAUDIUS!”
From inside, Thierry could hear banging and doors slamming and soon enough a small male faun in a red tunic came running out.
“Yes Brother Moses? Oh! Oh no!”
“Where were you?”
“I-I was inside! Washing the dishes!”
“Your main job is to collect pilgrims!” Brother Moses swam Gilbert over to the dock. “Help him out of the water!”
Thierry’s sea monk started to swim him over.
“I can swim,” Thierry gave as dashing a smile as he could given the current circumstances.
“That’s what they all say!” The sea monk did not let him go.
“It’s not what they all say,” Brother Moses said with a frown.
“It’s what the vast majority of humans say!” The sea monk exclaimed in an equally cheerful tone as he corrected himself.
“ I can swim,” Thierry insisted. It was pointless as by this time the sea monk had swum him over to the little dock. Thierry hauled himself out with as much ease as is possible when crawling out of the water. The little faun and Brother Moses had already managed to get Brother Gilbert out of the water. The monk lay on the dock, still sobbing in agony, and coughing up water.
The red haired sea monk patted his back. “There you go, Brother. Get all that water up.”
“Why are you just swimming there?!” Brother Gilbert moaned. “There are demons in the water!”
“Demons?” Brother Moses asked.
“Aye! It grabbed me! Tried to pull me up!”
“I did that,” Thierry said awkwardly.
“What? No, no, it was the demon. I know it was. I saw it!”
“Demons don’t tend to go underwater,” Brother Moses said gently. “That’s our domain.”
“I know what I saw!” the monk grabbed his chest. “It grabbed me round the waist!”
“Did It pull you up to the surface?” Brother Moses asked.
Brother Gilbert bit his lip and nodded.
“That was me,” Brother Moses smiled sadly. “You’re safe here. The guest house is covered in sigils and built on consecrated ground. We haven’t had a demon attack here in five hundred years.”
Brother Gilbert bit his trembling lip and pushed his soaking brown hair off his face. He nodded. “I–I want to go inside now.”
“Claudius,” Brother Moses said, “Take our guests inside and get them some new clothes. I’ll join you shortly.”
“Yes Brother,” Claudius escorted the two soaking wet men inside. The room was small with a stone floor with what appeared to be a wooden trap door in the middle of it. In the corner was a roaring stone fireplace with several stools and chairs surrounding it. The ceiling was somewhat high with wooden beams holding it up. The walls were whitewashed. The sound of lapping waves seemed to come from either outside or the little door in the floor. Thierry wasn’t entirely sure.
The little faun sat the monk down by the fireplace. Thierry noted how Brother Gilbert trembled. He felt sorry for the man and how he had treated him. Once Claudius left to fetch some towels and new clothes, Thierry went over to him.
“I am sorry about what I said earlier. That wasn’t right of me.”
Brother Gilbert looked up from the fireplace. It was impossible to tell where his tears began and the water ended. The man’s lip trembled.
“It really wasn’t,” Thierry said. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Brother Gilbert coughed up a little more water rather miserably. “I have papal dispensation.”
Thierry sat on a stool beside him. “I know.”
He didn’t have time to say more before Claudius reentered the room with some towels and new clothes. The faun bustled around them, handing them each a towel and a habit.
“I can take your current clothes for a washin’ and a dryin’,” Claudius grinned, revealing a large gap between his two front teeth.
“We will need privacy before we do that,” Thierry said firmly.
“Oh, of course. I’ll step into the other room.” Claudius put down the towels and habits and left the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click .
“Thank you,” Brother Gilbert murmured.
Thierry nodded. “Well, you are under my care…” Thierry grabbed a towel and a habit and went to the corner of the room to change. He glanced back at the monk. Brother Gilbert remained seated by the fireplace for a few moments longer, before standing up. Thierry turned around. He dried and changed slowly, allowing the monk to take his time. It was taking him a long time.
“Are you done changing?” Thierry asked.
“You’re still treating me like I am a woman.”
Thierry turned around. Brother Gilbert yelped. He was naked. If Thierry wasn’t sure what the monk looked like under his robes, he had no doubts now. He certainly looked womanly. Brother Gilbert scrambled to grab the dry habit from the nearby stool.
“What are you doing?!”
“I’m treating you like a man.”
“I am a monk! I am supposed to be modest. ”
“At this point I do think you are picking fights with me.”
“I am not!”
Thierry pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around. The man was irrational. “I really do not know what you want.”
“To treat me like a man!”
“You want me to treat you like a man?” Thierry’s knightly anger was getting the better of him.
Brother Gilbert took a few steps back. Thierry stopped. If he had gone one step closer, he probably would have struck the monk. Brother Gilbert trembled. The man had ghastly scars on his neck. Thierry took a step back.
“What happened to your neck?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t–oh.”
Guilt flooded Thierry. Had he really lost all self control that he was about to not only strike a monk, but an injured one at that? Thierry turned around. “For your modesty.”
“Thank you.”
Suddenly there was a creak and the monk screamed. Theirry turned around. The door in the floor had opened, revealing Brother Moses.
“It’s only me,” the sea monk said. “Have you found everything satisfactory?”
“Am I not allowed privacy?!” Brother Gilbert was pressed against the wall, holding the black habit to his chest.
“My apologies,” Brother Moses said. “I will return shortly.”
He slipped beneath the waves, shutting the trap door behind him. Thierry turned back around. The monk groaned behind him.
“Are you alright?”
“I am fine.”
Thierry waited. After a few moments he heard, “You may turn around.” Thierry did. It was odd to see Brother Gilbert in a black habit instead of his usual white. Brother Gilbert went over to the trap door. He tapped on it with his foot before taking a step back. The door opened. Brother Moses’ head peaked out.
“Is everything comfortable?”
“Yes,” Brother Gilbert said. “I wish to confess.”
“Ah. Of course. Shall I meet you in the chapel?”
“Please.”
“Claudius!” Brother Moses shouted. The little faun came running back inside.
“Yes, Brother Moses?”
“Take Brother….?”
“Gilbert.” The monk said.
“Take Brother Gilbert to the chapel. I will meet you there.”
“Yes, Brother.” The faun gestured to the door and the human monk followed. The sea monk slipped beneath the waves. Thierry sat back down on a stool. He wondered if he should have just taken Brother Gilbert somewhere else instead. He also wondered if Brother Gilbert would be willing to get back on the boat to go up the river.
Probably not. Thierry thought. I suppose I will have to hire a wagon or we’ll need to walk. Ah well. I didn’t want to row upstream anyway.
Gilbert sat across from the sea monk. His shame was so great, he couldn’t look Brother Moses in the eye. Brother Moses sucked in his cheeks.
“Well, I must say, I have heard worse.”
“You are just saying that.”
“No, I have. I can’t tell you what, as that would break the seal of confession.”
Gilbert nodded.
“Do you know if he’s well?” Brother Moses asked.
Gilbert shook his head. “I haven’t heard from my abbot since I came to Notess. I never meant to hurt him. I thought he was…you understand why I didn’t know? That if I wasn’t–I didn’t know!”
Brother Moses sighed. “Do you repent?”
“Yes. For everything I’ve done.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“Then God will forgive you.”
Gilbert wiped away a few tears. “Thank you.”
“For your penance, you must fast every Wednesday for three months.”
“Forgive me, but that seems rather lenient.”
“You were in a state of lunacy. You know not what you were doing,” The sea monk paused. “It’s not uncommon after parturition.”
Gilbert blushed. “It’s not?”
“No,” he smiled gently. “I’ve counselled several men and women who have suffered in that way.”
“What do I do?”
“Continue to pray for John’s soul. And stop being so hard on yourself and the knight. He seems to be trying,” Brother Moses said. “It will do you all good.”
Thierry extended his hand. Gilbert took it firmly and grabbed the knight’s shoulder as he stepped into the boat. Thierry helped Gilbert sit.
“Thank you,” the monk said.
“You’re welcome,” Thierry sat. Claudius untied the rope. Gilbert waved good-bye to the little faun and the sea monks. Thierry rowed away from the abbey. Claudius went back inside. The sea monks watched them briefly before descending beneath the waves.
“Did your confession go well?” Thierry asked.
Gilbert smoothed out his slightly damp habit. He wanted to be irritated at the knight, but remembered Brother Moses’ words. “It did. I needed it. Thank you for asking. And thank you for taking me to the abbey. My soul has been in agony the past few months. God has finally granted me some relief.”
Thierry smiled. “Glad to hear it.” He paused. “We didn’t eat. Do you want to tuck in before we make it to shore? I’m going to see about getting us a wagon back to Notess. Faster than walking and easier than rowing upstream!”
Gilbert smiled. “Yes, that sounds quite nice.”