The Beautiful Thread by Penelope Wilcock Page B

novices arraigned before an ecclesiastical court for heresy. And it could happen. Not everyone applied Ockham’s razor and assumed basic lack of sophistication and natural stupidity. Some would leap with alacrity to conclude evidence of a subtle and subversive mind at work in sly undermining of the authority of Holy Church, and never stop to ask how likely that was. John pushed open the door.
    â€œAh! My lord bishop! And Monsieur LePrique. Good morrow to you both. I hope you are finding our novices come up to the mark.”
    Thank you , moved Theo’s lips in silent mime as John glanced at him across the tense circle of robed men.
    â€œThey seem well versed indeed,” replied the bishop, all geniality. “I was just enquiring about their own views on transubstantiation.”
    John smiled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brainard nod in satisfaction and encouragement at this. “My lord, do not forget this is only Yorkshire,” said the abbot. “Not Avignon, nor yet the Vatican. I hold Father Theodore’s scholarly ability and considerable intellect in the highest esteem; but mine cannot compare. Some of what our novices have learned will be from my Chapter addresses and homilies at Mass. If you find any fault, come back to me, of your charity. It will be my own shortcoming.”
    Though he allowed himself to be diverted from too careful an assessment of their theological orthodoxy, the bishop still persisted with his questions until the welcome sound of the bell ringing for the midday office brought him to a halt. The abbot and the novice master detached him from their novices and flanked him in an escort down the day stairs to the south transept of the church, allowing the young men to flow around and ahead of them. They both felt a sense of having navigated their way across the treacherous, icy waters of a winter stream.
    After chapel, as the brothers departed for the frater, Abbot John remained in his stall. Father Theodore crossed the choir and sat in the prior’s place alongside him. “Why did you come up this morning?” he asked, in a discreet undertone that respected the solemnity of the choir. “You were looking for me, not the bishop, weren’t you?”
    John nodded. He didn’t want to have this conversation here, but if they went back to his house they’d be late for the midday meal, and if they set off for the refectory they’d run into Bishop Eric.
    â€œIt’s Gervase and Hannah, Theo; I’m worried about them.”
    â€œBecause –?”
    â€œThere’s such wide variance in their backgrounds and opposition from Gervase’s family. And, you know how it is. The aristocracy have a hundred and one ways of disposing of people like Hannah. She’s walking into a lions’ den. If he ever tires of her…”
    Theo considered this, his face sober. He sighed. “Well, it’s true. But might we not have said the same of William and Madeleine? If ever a match was ill-advised, it must have been theirs. Yet from the whispers that reach me, they are happy together. And your efforts to stop them were made with the best of intentions but only made them miserable. Even if the ground of this union is shaky to walk on, if Hannah can’t see that for herself, what’s to be done? Seems to me this is one of those things where you have to trust in God and not interfere, Father.”
    John accepted this, with reluctance. “Aye. You’re right. I suppose you’re right. Very well, then; I’ll let it be.” He shook it off him and looked at his novice master with a smile. “Your lads gave a good account of themselves to the bishop, did they not?”
    â€œIndeed they did. Good thing he came today and not yesterday. They were all in the kitchen learning to make pastry.”
    â€œWhat? Why?”
    â€œBrother Conradus will need some extra help for the wedding. He asked if they could all come down,