Aelred's Sin by Lawrence Scott

the farm, in the apiary, in the orchard or walled garden, or at any of the other work places where the monks laboured to bring in their simple fare, speaking only when it was absolutely necessary, or with the signs of the hands. ‘Let leave to speak be seldom granted to observant disciples. In much speaking thou shalt not escape sin,’ said the holy Rule
    It was not possible, Aelred felt, really to feel you were ever getting to know these men who were around you. Yet he did feel close and at one with the community at work, in the chapter house, in the refectory, chanting and listening to reading. When the lights went out and there was only the wind in the copper beeches outside the window of his cell, he felt that they slept as a brotherhood.
    Copper beech, he whispered. It was a word in a dream. England. Aelred slept, caught between worlds.
    The jacaranda swayed beneath the verandah.
     
    ‘I don’t feel that I’m really getting to know anyone,’ Aelred said to Father Justin at his weekly meeting with the novice master.
    ‘It takes time, brother. It’ll come without noticing,without having to be told, or without much talking. Be observant of your fellow brothers’ needs. Their characters will reveal themselves. You will know them in Christ.’
    ‘Yes, I try that, but I mean like having a pardner.’
    ‘Pardner?’ Father Justin looked at Aelred quizzically.
    ‘Oh, sorry, that’s our word back home. Like a friend, someone you really get on with. Someone you feel something special with. You find it easier to talk to them about problems, feelings. And isn’t the love of God in the love that we show each other?’ He tried to sound knowing and mature in his conclusion.
    ‘Yes, but appropriately, in line with our vows, in line with our rule of silence. You can talk to God, brother. You can come and talk to me. What you are suggesting is the communication of the world. And I must warn you against particular friendships. There’s much danger in them.’
    ‘Yes, I remember that from school. In my boarding school my confessor warned me of those. But that was when I was just growing up. Will I not be able to have a friend ever for the rest of my life?’
    ‘Did you heed your confessor?’ Father Justin avoided answering Aelred’s question directly.
    ‘I tried, in a way, but it didn’t work.’ Aelred could feel himself censoring his thoughts.
    ‘Your heart should be for God, brother, and for all your brothers equally.’
    Aelred listened and thought Father Justin’s words a hard doctrine. He remembered Dom Placid at school saying that love was painful. But he did not seem to be suggesting he should avoid it. He wanted to ask Father Justin about what he had talked about with Dom Placid,but he didn’t feel encouraged to do that. He certainly didn’t feel he could mention Benedict. He wanted to love all his fellow brothers, but that wasn’t the love that seemed to be the most difficult. He would try and follow Father Justin’s way and concentrate on his private prayer with God. But it seemed that there was one self which was trying that way and then another self that wanted something quite different.
    He had not clicked with Father Justin. He found talking with him difficult. What was he going to do about that? The Novice Master was very important.
     
    Since the moment in the library with Benedict, and noticing the portrait of the black boy on the staircase, which he could not get out of his mind and which distracted his meditations, as did thoughts of his relationship with Ted, he had not spoken to Benedict. Their formal meetings as his guardian angel were now over. ‘You know the ropes now,’ he had said at the end of that final formal session. He hardly saw him, except for choir and refectory. He talked to others at recreation. He had fleeting glimpses of him in the cloister. Benedict walked with his head bowed and hooded. He tried to meet his eyes, but they were downcast or averted. He had been