It had been several weeks since the attack. The gashes on his neck somewhat healed into red ochre jagged scars. His entire community had prayed it wouldn’t take. God did not listen to their prayers. The infirmarer gave him tonics and physics and did everything short of beating him like husbands are known to do. It still stuck.
Gilbert moaned. His little cell had been the only place he had seen for a few days. He was free to leave and encouraged to do so for meals. Gilbert’s body hurt and if he moved from his cot he would vomit.
“Domine, adjuva me.” He murmured. “Domine, adjuva me.”
Someone knocked on his door. “Brother Gilbert, I am coming in.”
Gilbert was too weak to protest. The door opened and his abbot approached his cot. Gilbert looked up miserably. The abbot gave him a sad smile.
“How are you feeling, my son?”
“Kill me. Please.”
The abbot knelt down next to his bed, took his hand and gently brushed back his fringe with his other hand. “That would be a sin, Brother.”
Gilbert squeezed the abbot’s hand. “Domine, adjuva me. I’ve vomited seven times this morning.”
“I know. The infirmarer is going to bring you a tonic.”
Gilbert’s eyes widened. “Did he finally find something?”
The abbot shook his head. “It’s for your nausea. We cannot cure this, but we will treat it until it’s your time.”
Tears streamed down Gilbert’s face. “Why me?”
The abbot kissed his forehead. “Only God knows.”
“Pray for me? Please? I–I cannot pray. Every time I try I vomit.”
“Yes, yes. I will pray for you. We are all praying for you. Be strong, for God is with you.”
“I fear He has abandoned me.”
“This is a test,” the abbot did not sound so sure. “We will get through this together,” he squeezed Gilbert’s hand again. “I promise.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“Yes, for as long as you like.”
There had been a knock on his cell door. Gilbert flinched. He had refused to leave his cell ever since he noticed his normally flat stomach swelling a week ago. He hadn’t told anyone that was the reason, but he knew the others suspected it. Last night when Brother Hugh visited to bring him his supper and empty his bucket, the other monk commented on how very masculine and muscular he was looking. Gilbert had only stared at Brother Hugh and covered himself back up in his blanket. Brother Hugh had patted Gilbert’s shoulder, whispered to keep up the good fight, and everyone was praying for him. Gilbert had waited for Brother Hugh to leave before he allowed himself to weep.
There was another knock on his door.
“Brother Gilbert?” Brother John asked, “Can I come in?”
“No. Leave me be.”
“Please? The abbot has sent me to check up on you. He said I can only return after I’ve seen your face.”
Gilbert sprang out of bed, opened the door enough for Brother John to see his face, and slammed it shut.
“You know that is not what he meant,” Brother John said sadly.
Gilbert opened the door to his cell. He was wrapped tightly in a blanket. Brother John smiled at him. In his hands was a covered basket.
“I’ve brought you some items you may like.”
Gilbert sat on his cot. He winced when he realised how much more of his body there was. “Like what?”
“May I sit next to you?” Brother John asked.
Gilbert nodded.
The other monk sat on the cot a sensible distance away. Gilbert made sure his blanket covered his torso. Brother John took off the cover of the basket.
“I have brought you a new habit.”
“I have yet to outgrow mine.” Gilbert scowled.
“The one you have on now is rather dirty. It needs to be washed.”
“You are just saying that to be kind,” Gilbert turned away. He did not look down at his sweat, vomit, waste, and mucus stained habit.
“Brother Gilbert,” Brother John said, “I am saying this for everyone’s sake. I am not just bringing you a new habit for you. It’s for everyone who visits you.”
Gilbert blushed and tears sprang to his eyes. “Are you saying I smell?”
“Yes. You are covered in your own fluids. That is why I brought you new clothes.” Brother John’s blunt speech surprised Gilbert.The monk took a new white habit and several pairs of new drawers out of the basket. “Here we are.”
“Drawers?” Gilbert asked. Cistercian monks did not wear drawers and he did not know why the abbot would want him wearing them now.
“The abbot spoke to a mid–”
“What?! No!”
“He did. We want you to be in good health. She recommended you wear drawers.”
“Why?”
Brother John blushed. “I think that is a conversation for the midwife.”
“Brother John. You cannot tell me that some strange woman wants me to break the Rule of Saint Benedict and then not explain why I should put my soul in even more danger.”
“Er, something about discharge, piles, and thrush….”
“Domine, adjuva me!”
Brother John smiled sympathetically. “She wants to speak to you about how to care for yourself in the next few days. Today the abbot has arranged for you to visit the monastery’s bathhouse. He said you can visit it alone, out of respect for your modesty.”
“ Deos gratia.” Gilbert muttered.
Brother John hummed. “I’ve made you a concoction for your feet. I’ve heard they may swell. The midwife said rose oil and vinegar will help.”
Gilbert glanced at his swollen feet. “Thank you. I—I suppose I do need assistance in that regard.”
Brother John smiled. “At chapter we decided that we would make this as easy as possible for you, my dear Gilbert. But to do that, you must allow us all to take care of you.”
“Why? Why would you do that?”
John patted Gilbert’s hand. “It’s the Christian thing to do. You don’t deserve to suffer. We know you are struggling and we don’t want this time to be completely isolating and horrid. I thought– we thought that if we can make this as comfortable as possible for you, then some day, far, far in the future, if you look back you can think, ‘My brethren supported me and things were not as bad as they could have been.’...It will help you heal faster when everything is all said and done.”
Gilbert nodded. “Thank you, John. I don’t think…I am not sure I will ever think positively on the last few or coming months. But I appreciate what you are all trying to do.”
John held out his hand. “Come now. Let’s bathe you.”
“I don’t want to see my body.”
“You will feel better when it’s done.”
“I said what I said.”
“If you will permit me to come to the bath with you, I can help you wash while you close your eyes.”
“I don’t want anyone touching me.”
John nodded. “We still need you to wash.”
Gilbert stared at John’s still extended hand. He took it.
John squeezed the other monk’s hand gently. “I promise you that you will feel better when all of this is over. Including your bath.”
Gilbert stared into John’s earnest brown eyes. He trusted the other monk. So, Gilbert nodded, and he allowed John to lead him to the bathhouse. The monastery was large and the walk was long. Gilbert kept his filthy cowl over his head so he would not have to look any of his fellow monks in the eye from his cell to the bathhouse. John walked beside him to block the other monks’ curious, worried eyes.
Once inside the bathhouse, Gilbert hesitated, but removed his previously white cowl. Two lay brothers poured boiling water into a tub with a large white sheet lining it as the two monks walked over. The water steamed.
“Is the bath not prepared?” John asked.
“Oh, er, we thought it would take him longer to come.” One lay brother said.
“When will it be done?”
“Very soon Brother John, we promise.”
“Good. Gilbert, why don’t we sit down for a bit?”
Gilbert nodded and put his cowl back on. John led him over to the stone benches at the side of the bathhouse. They sat there, watching the lay brothers working quickly to fill up the tub. Once it was filled with water, one lay brother poured sweet smelling oil into it and another threw some dried flower petals into the water. They left the bathhouse.
“Ready?” John asked.
“As I will ever be,” Gilbert slowly stood.
“Shall I leave now?” John asked.
As much as Gilbert did not want anyone even glancing at his new body, the concept of bathing alone and naked was even more terrifying to him. It was the primary reason he had trouble moving his robes when relieving himself or vomiting, even if he knew it would create a mess.
“No,” Gilbert’s voice trembled.
‘“No?”’
“I–I decided I don’t want to be alone.”
The other monk smiled at him. “Aye. I will stay. Shall I turn around while you undress?”
Gilbert nodded. John turned and Gilbert carefully removed his filthy habit. He did not look down at his changed body. He slowly approached the tub. His balance had increasingly worsened ever since the swelling began. He sighed.
“John?”
“Yes?”
“Will you help me in?”
“Of course.”
Holding John’s hand, Gilbert stepped into the tub. The sweet smelling oiled water engulfed Gilbert’s aching feet and legs. He barely suppressed a moan as he slid into the warm water.
“How does it feel?” John asked.
“Like Heaven.” Gilbert groaned. He leaned back, closing his brown eyes, placing his scarred neck against the edge of the tub, and let the boiling water soothe his aching muscles. Ever since his body changed, Gilbert found himself more sensitive to cold and more tolerant to heat. The water would have scalded any other man. Oddly enough, when he referenced Heaven didn’t make him feel ill. He wondered if it was because he was finally not in any pain. The hot water washed away his dirt and his aches. He was no longer nauseous for the first time since the attack. Gilbert wondered if it was because he was away from holy things. Ultimately, Gilbert decided he didn’t care one way or the other. He was no longer in pain. He would take what little he could get.
John knelt by the edge of the tub, careful not to loom over Gilbert. “Shall I leave you?”
“No,” Gilbert murmured. “Please stay.” He opened his eyes. “Do you want to leave?”
“I only want to make sure you are comfortable and safe.”
Gilbert gave John a small, nearly unnoticeable smile. “Thank you. I’d like you to stay. I will need help getting out once I am washed.”
John nodded. He sat by the edge of the tub and waited for Gilbert to say when he was done.
After an hour, Gilbert requested assistance leaving the tub. John took his hand and attempted to guide him out. Gilbert’s balance failed, lurching him straight into John. The other monk grabbed Gilbert before he could fall, wrapping his other arm around his waist. Gilbert’s wet body pressed against John’s.
“Oh!”
“Do not worry,” John smiled. “I’ve got you.”
Gilbert nodded. He clutched onto John’s habit. Keeping his hand firm but gentle around Gilbert, the other monk helped him out. They both held each other until Gilbert’s feet were solidly on the ground. Once Gilbert felt like he wouldn’t fall, he immediately let go of John. John followed his lead. He handed Gilbert a towel. Gilbert quickly wrapped it around his body before making his way to the stone benches and sitting down. He stared at his feet. They were wrinkly from the water and swollen. John’s eyes followed Gilbert’s over to the basket. John picked up the basket. Gilbert leaned against the wall as John sat by his feet.
“I promise you will feel better afterwards.” John looked up at him.
Gilbert nodded. “I trust you.”
John smiled. He removed the vial from the basket, uncorked it, and poured a portion of the rose oil and vinegar into his hands. Then, gently taking Gilbert’s left foot, he began to message the concoction into his skin. Gilbert sighed. John rubbed him gently.
“Let me know if I’m too rough.”
“You aren’t.” Gilbert hesitated, before placing his hands on his shrinking lap. He didn’t want to even look at his torso but to look down at John, he had no choice. He had never been this big before in his life. Gilbert hesitated again before resting one hand on his stomach. It felt more natural somehow. After another few moments, he rested his other hand over that one. John looked up at him again.
“Is she moving?” he asked.
“No, Deo gratias. ”
John nodded. He put more oil in his hands and picked up Gilbert’s other foot. “Do you know what you’ll do when she does?”
Gilbert shook his head. “I hope it doesn’t move.”
John patted Gilbert’s calf. “I hope so for your sake too.”
Gilbert froze in the middle of the mandatory cloister walk the abbot was making him do daily. It moved. It moved again and again and again. Gilbert sat down on the wall between the arches. One of his fellow monks came over from his studying place in the cloister green.
“Are you alright, Brother Gilbert?”
Gilbert shook his head.
“Shall I fetch the infirmarer?”
He shook his head again. “It’s moving.”
“Oh. Oh God.”
Gilbert placed his hands over his belly. He struggled to catch his breath. When he did, all he managed to say was “Domine, adjuva me. Domine, adjuva me. Domine, adjuva me.” until John came.
When John did come, Gilbert threw himself into the other monk’s arms and sobbed uncontrollably. John embraced Gilbert and petted his tonsure.
“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered. “It will be over soon. I promise.”
“Not soon enough,” Gilbert moaned.
“No, you’re right. Not soon enough.” John held Gilbert as close as he could with his bump in the way.
In the abbey’s guesthouse, Gilbert sat by the roaring fireplace on a cushioned bench. He stared into the fire. The spawn inside him squirmed and wriggled. He wondered if it did that to torture him. The flames leapt and crackled, tempting him with their welcoming warmth. Gilbert reached out and put his fingers in the fire. They did not burn him. They merely tickled. The demon brat stopped moving. He thrust his hand in deeper.
“Careful Brother!”
Gilbert jumped. The midwife the abbot arranged for him to meet stood in the doorway.
“Surely you know it cannot burn me.”
“It can burn your clothes.”
Gilbert pulled his arm out of the fire. He had enough rumours about him. He was the fecund monk. The last thing he wanted was to be known for burning down the abbey guesthouse too. He didn’t want to be known at all for this. It was probably too late. The abbot had to write to the bishop and the pope for permission for him to stay at the abbey. While common enough in the past for monks to be attacked by demons in pagan times, it was less and less so now. Gilbert could not repress a scowl as he thought about all the eager chroniclers documenting his story for centuries to come. Gilbert sighed. He wanted to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying, but the last time he did that the chit had caused him to be so nauseous he wasn’t able to move for an hour.
The midwife smiled sympathetically at the monk as she walked over. She sat on the chair across from him.
“How are you feeling, Brother Gilbert?” she asked.
“I can feel it move,” he could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“Now?”
“No, Deo gratias. It stopped when I touched the fire. ”
“I see.”
Gilbert stared into the fire again. “Why did you come?”
“Your abbot wanted me to talk with you.” The midwife smiled gently. “I’ve worked with other men in your situation.”
“You have?” Gilbert looked up.
“Yes,” she hesitated. “Yes, I have.”
Gilbert scowled. She hesitated. The midwife was not being entirely truthful. The foetus wriggled. Gilbert pressed his hand down on his belly.
“Are you in pain?” the midwife asked.
“Discomfort. You’re not saying the entire truth.”
The midwife sighed. “I’ve only helped men who wanted their babies.”
“Who could want a cambion?” Gilbert sneered.
The midwife blinked. “Those who are desperate to be mothers.”
“I was not desperate! Nor am I a mother! I never wanted this! Why would It do it to me, and not someone else?!”
“I–I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
Gilbert threw his hands up in the air. “Do you know anything?”
“I do,” The midwife sounded slightly indigent. “We should discuss your health.”
“No.” Gilbert stood. “Go back to your men who want their demon brats and treat them.” He barely resisted the urge to spit on the ground at her feet before he left.
Gilbert sat outside on the nearby hill, watching monastery sheep nibble at the grass. He cradled his abdomen bitterly. For the past several weeks it had not stopped moving or growing. The abbot allowed him to do what he pleased while his time grew near. Anything except for hiding in his cell. It was the only thing Gilbert wanted to do as the evidence grew too big to hide. The abbot had made it clear that was his punishment for treating the midwife so disrespectfully.
“I am coming behind you,” John said.
Gilbert turned his head around. The monk smiled at him and sat beside him.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“The hills.” John smiled.
“I suppose.” Gilbert pressed hard down on his side to remove the tiny foot lodged between his ribs.
John reached out, stopped, and put his hand on his thigh.
“What were you doing?” Gilbert asked.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”
“Were you going to touch me?”
“I was…I was thinking about it.” John flushed red in shame.
Gilbert stared at him. John stared at the sheep.
“You can feel it move,” Gilbert said after a while. “Maybe it will stop then.”
John nodded. He put his hand on Gilbert. The child moved under his hand in an alarming fashion. John gasped, but did not take his hand off Gilbert.
“Does it hurt?” He asked. “Surely it’s painful.”
“Sometimes. It’s been getting worse the bigger it gets.”
John nodded. Gilbert stared at him. Slowly, he put his hand over John’s. John didn’t move his hand.
“I never wanted this,” Gilbert murmured.
“I know,” John murmured back.
“I just wanted to go into town and do my errand. I wanted…I wanted to…” Gilbert trailed off. “Why did I believe It?”
“It’s not your fault.” John said.
“What?”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“I—I knew It was a demon.”
“You didn’t know what It would do.” John placed his other hand over Gilbert’s. Gilbert breathed heavily as his demonic spawn churned inside him. John met Gilbert’s eyes with his own. They sat there quietly.
Gilbert leaned forward and kissed the other monk on the lips.
John pulled back, still keeping his hands on Gilbert’s abdomen.
“I—I apologise,” Gilbert said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” John paused. “Not without asking first.”
“May I kiss you?”
“You may.”
Gilbert leaned over and kissed him before pulling back slightly. “You may kiss me.” Gilbert whispered. John kissed him tenderly on the lips. He tasted sweet. Gilbert closed his eyes and wrapped one arm around John’s shoulders. John brought Gilbert onto his lap and they kissed. They kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed. The spawn didn’t move. Gilbert wrapped his other arm around John and they kissed some more.
“John?” Gilbert breathed through their tender kisses.
“Yes?”
“Will you lay with me?”
“Yes.” John whispered. “Just tell me what I should do.”
Gilbert smiled.
The abbot stared out his window. He frowned.
“I’m terribly disappointed in you, Brother John,” the abbot said. They were alone in the abbot’s chambers. The monk stood before the abbot, filled with terror. After John had made love with Gilbert in the fields, they laid in the grass, kissed, held hands and quietly took joy in the few moments in which the child had ceased its movement. They had remained there for too long. As soon as they reentered the cloister, the abbot summoned them to his chambers. Gilbert waited outside after he cleaned himself.
“I’m sorry.”
“I am furious.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I saw you through my window.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Brother Gilbert is vulnerable. The last thing he needed was for you to make him more so.”
“He approached me.”
“I don’t care.” The abbot said.
John swallowed. “It was not sodomy.”
“I know it’s not bloody sodomy! That’s not the point! I trusted you. I trusted you would care for him like he was your brother. Did the reading I gave you on Spiritual Friendship mean nothing? Brother Gilbert is not in a state to be fornicating in the fields! Neither are you! You have taken vows of chastity. It is a promise to the Lord. And do not say anything about Brother Gilbert’s current state! We both know–we all know!–he is not at fault at that.”
“I’m sorry.” John paused. “Has anyone suggested otherwise?”
The abbot sighed. “Ignorant villagers who enjoy scandalous rumours about promiscuous monks instead of harsh ravished realities. Those who did not see the state he was in. I have been writing letters since he was…since it happened. The Bishop of Exeter is understanding enough. We are lucky he was able to be convinced. In other dioceses the authorities are not so understanding.”
“What would happen if they weren’t?”
“He’d go to a nunnery to expiate his sins. It was documented as an attack and he didn’t consent. Even so, his soul is in danger from the anguish he feels. And others, less kind than our bishop, think a monastery is no place for men like him. It’s not the old days anymore. I have done everything I could to convince the bishop he is still a man in soul, if not in body. I even applied for papal dispensation! And you fornicating with him in the open–in a field where anyone can see–where I saw!–will not help my case if anyone learns of it!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You–you…get out of my sight. And do not go near Brother Gilbert until I give you permission to do so.”
“Yes, Father.” John left. His heart filled with shame and his chest tight with anxiety. Gilbert sat outside on a stool the abbot had left there when he summoned them both. John sighed.
“What did he say?” Gilbert asked.
“He said I am not to go near you until he gives me permission,” John desperately wanted to embrace the other monk. “I mustn’t disobey him. I’m sorry.” He started to walk away.
“You’ve been very kind to me.” Gilbert called after him.
“And I don’t regret a moment of it.” John smiled weakly. Gilbert wiped tears from his eyes. The abbot called out his name. Gilbert watched John walk away for a moment before entering into the abbot’s chambers. He shut the door behind him. They stared at each other. The abbot gestured to a seat near the door. Gilbert sat. He crossed his arms over his swollen, unhidable, moving torso. The abbot watched him and sighed.
“Oh, Brother Gilbert,” he said sadly. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I am sorry.”
“I know.” The abbot sat beside him. “I should have you do penance.”
“What shall you have me do?”
The abbot stared at his abdomen. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all iniquity. You’ve been punished enough. Once your time has passed, we will discuss it further.”
Gilbert nodded. “Thank you, Father Abbot.”
“And stay away from Brother John.”
“....Forever?”
“I will think about it.”