The Outlaws of Ennor: (Knights Templar 16) by Michael Jecks Page B

when Peter Visconte was ordered away by the Prior after his whoring with Mabilla deMarghasiou, the ‘priest’s mare’ whom he had brought with him when he first arrived in the islands. At the time William was living a quieter life up in the chapel of St Elidius in the north of the islands, but he had been commanded by the Bishop to come here and take over Peter Visconte’s responsibilities, and his own little chapel had sunk into disuse until Brother Luke arrived. Clearly Luke had been badly behaved, because the Bishop had given him the hermit’s chapel. William, by contrast, had been told to stay here at Ennor instead.
    William looked about him with a blank expression. He must comfort the people here, he knew, and yet he would have been happier to have been left up on St Elidius. He craved the peace of his little chapel. Not like Luke, who appeared to loathe it.
    Luke was a weird one. He was certainly bright enough. His sermons seemed to catch the folk all about with their vivid depictions of suffering, as though he himself had experienced loss and pain; he fixed on the sins of the flesh a little too much for William’s taste. William himself felt happier preaching against the sins of gluttony, pride and sloth – especially when he observed Ranulph de Blancminster in his audience.
    There was something in Luke’s expression that spoke of sadness. No, it was more than that. Perhaps it was soul-deep. William had a theory that there were two types of person. Some wore their sadness on view for all to see. The woman who had lost her children was one example: she would mourn loudly when the terrible torpor which now had her in its grip finally left. Then would begin the longer period of quiet grief.
    Others couldn’t afford to succumb to their misery. Her husband was an example. He would work now, seeking to save whatever he could from their little property, and when that was done, he would spend his time in trying to comfort his woman. He would hide his sadness, but it would still be there, deep within him, burning away at him like a canker.
    Of the two, William was sure that the man needed the more support. The woman had her man to give her his strength, but there was no one apart from the chaplain to give her husband comfort. Hispain lay far below, not up on the surface. It was there that William must concentrate his efforts.
    Luke had that same sort of quiet, concealed pain. It was a manly pain, a hidden grief that was enough to tear at his soul, but which he could not mention to others. Perhaps he had raised it with his confessor at St Nicholas’s Priory. Because Luke had come here from a convent, so William had heard (gossip among the brothers and other religious was more common than among the most garrulous women on the islands), he was confessed by the Prior himself, so William had heard. That in itself was a bit curious. Not many lowly chaplains had such a prestigious confessor.
    Yes. It was possible that the fellow had a deep hurt which had led to his being brought here to recover himself.
    However, William was unconvinced. He had seen the way Luke’s eyes invariably sought out the prettiest women in his congregation and stayed there. To William’s mind, Luke was the sort of man who depended upon women to keep him content, and that was a poor qualification for a celibate. It was more likely that Luke was here for a failing. Perhaps it was that common failing among priests: the same as that which led to Peter Visconte being removed from St Mary’s in the first place.
    As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Walerand made his way from the castle towards the marshy lands in the middle of Ennor, and thence up towards Penn Trathen.
    He was relatively new to Ranulph’s service, but he was confident that he’d be promoted before too long. For now, he was merely a servant, but he hoped to follow men like Robert, the gather-reeve, and become a known strong man. Perhaps he could take over Robert’s job, winning money