we are not frugal here?" Philip asked him.
"I do," he said in a ringing voice.
" 'Let those to whom God gives the gift of abstinence know that they shall receive their proper reward,' " Philip quoted. "If you feel that the food here is too generous, you may eat less. But remember what else the saint says. He quotes the first epistle to the Corinthians, in which Saint Paul says: 'Every one has his proper gift from God, one thus, another thus.' And then the saint tells us: 'For this reason, the amount of other people's food cannot be determined without some misgiving.' Please remember that, Peter, as you fast and meditate upon the sin of gluttony."
They had gone back to work then, Peter wearing a martyred air. He was not going to be silenced so easily, Philip realized. Of the monks' three vows, of poverty, chastity and obedience, the one that gave Peter trouble was obedience.
There were ways of dealing with disobedient monks, of course: solitary confinement, bread and water, flogging, and ultimately excommunication and expulsion from the house. Philip did not normally hesitate to use such punishments, especially when a monk seemed to be testing Philip's authority. Consequently he was thought of as a tough disciplinarian. But in fact he hated meting out punishment-it brought disharmony into the monastic brotherhood and made everyone unhappy. Anyway, in the case of Peter, punishment would do no good at all-indeed, it would serve to make the man more prideful and unforgiving. Philip had to find a way to control Peter and soften him at the same time. It would not be easy. But then, he thought, if everything were easy, men would not need God's guidance.
They reached the clearing in the forest where the monastery was. As they walked across the open space, Philip saw Brother John waving energetically at them from the goat pen. He was called Johnny Eightpence, and he was a little soft in the head. Philip wondered what he was excited about now. With Johnny was a man in priest's robes. He looked vaguely familiar, and Philip hurried toward him.
The priest was a short, compact man in his middle twenties, with close-cropped black hair and bright blue eyes that twinkled with alert intelligence. Looking at him was for Philip like looking in a mirror. The priest, he realized with a shock, was his younger brother Francis.
And Francis was holding a newborn baby.
Philip did not know which was more surprising, Francis or the baby. The monks all crowded around. Francis stood up and handed the baby to Johnny; then Philip embraced him. "What are you doing here?" Philip said delightedly. "And why have you got a baby?"
"I'll tell you later why I'm here," Francis said. "As for the baby, I found him in the woods, all alone, lying near a blazing fire." Francis stopped.
"And..." Philip prompted him.
Francis shrugged. "I can't tell you any more than that, because that's all I know. I was hoping to get here last night, but I didn't quite make it, so I spent the night in a verderer's hut. I left at dawn this morning, and I was riding along the road when I heard a baby cry. A moment later I saw it. I picked it up and brought it here. That's the whole tale."
Philip looked incredulously at the tiny bundle in Johnny's arms. He reached out a hand tentatively, and lifted a corner of the blanket. He saw a wrinkled pink face, an open toothless mouth and a little bald head-a miniature of an aging monk. He unwrapped the bundle a little more and saw tiny fragile shoulders, waving arms, and tight-clenched fists. He looked closely at the stump of the umbilical cord which hung from the baby's navel. It was faintly disgusting. Was this natural? Philip wondered. It looked like a wound that was healing well, and would be best left alone. He pulled the blanket down farther still. "A boy," he said with an embarrassed cough, and covered it up again. One of the novices giggled.
Philip suddenly felt helpless. What on earth am I to do with it? he thought. Feed it?
The baby cried, and the sound tugged at his heartstrings like a well-loved hymn. "It's hungry," he said, and he thought in the back of his mind: How did I know that?
One of the monks said: "We can't feed it."
Philip was about to say: Why not? Then he realized why not: there were no women for miles.
However, Johnny