another monk, taking no notice of the service or the behavior of the youngsters.
Philip watched a moment longer. He had no patience for this kind of thing at the best of times. One of the monks seemed to be a ringleader, a good-looking lad of about twenty-one years with an impish grin. Philip saw him dip the end of his eating knife into the top of a burning candle and flick melted grease at the novice-master's bald pate. As the hot fat landed on his scalp the old monk woke up with a yelp, and the youngsters dissolved in laughter.
With a sigh, Philip left his place. He approached the lad from behind, took him by the ear and ungently hauled him out of the quire and into the south transept. Andrew looked up from the service book and frowned at Philip as they went: he had not seen any of the commotion.
When they were out of earshot of the other monks, Philip stopped, released the lad's ear, and said: "Name?"
"William Beauvis."
"And what devil possessed you during high mass?"
William looked sulky. "I was weary of the service," he said.
Monks who complained of their lot never got any sympathy from Philip. "Weary?" he said, raising his voice a little. "What have you done today?"
"William said defiantly. "Matins and lauds in the middle of the night, prime before breakfast, then terce, chapter mass, study, and now high mass."
"And have you eaten?"
"I had breakfast."
"And you expect to have dinner."
"Yes."
"Most people your age do backbreaking work in the fields from sunrise to sunset in order to get their breakfast and their dinner-and still they give some of their bread to you! Do you know why they do this?"
"Yes," said William, shuffling his feet and looking at the ground.
"Go on."
"They do it because they want the monks to sing the services for them."
"Correct. Hardworking peasants give you bread and meat and a stone-built dormitory with a fire in winter-and you are so weary that you will not sit still through high mass for them!"
"I'm sorry, Brother."
Philip looked at William a moment longer. There was no great harm in him. The real fault lay with his superiors, who were lax enough to permit horseplay in the church. Philip said gently: "If services weary you, why did you become a monk?"
"I'm my father's fifth son."
Philip nodded. "And no doubt he gave the priory some land on condition we took you?"
"Yes-a farm."
It was a common story: a man who had a superfluity of sons gave one to God, ensuring that God would not reject the gift by also giving a piece of property sufficient to support the son in monastic poverty. In that way many men who did not have a vocation became disobedient monks.
Philip said: "If you were moved-to a grange, say, or to my little cell of St-John-in-the-Forest, where there is a good deal of work to be done out-of-doors, and rather less time is spent at worship-do you think that might help you to take part in the services in a proper pious manner?"
William's face lit up. "Yes, Brother, I think it would!"
"I thought so. I'll see what can be done. But don't become too excited-you may have to wait until we have a new prior, and ask him to transfer you."
"Thank you, anyhow!"
The service ended, and the monks began to leave the church in procession. Philip put a finger to his lips to end the conversation. As the monks filed through the south transept, Philip and William joined the line, and went out into the cloisters, the arcaded quadrangle adjacent to the south side of the nave. There the procession broke up. Philip turned toward the kitchen, but his way was barred by the sacrist, who struck an aggressive pose in front of him, with his feet apart and his hands on his hips. "Brother Philip," he said.
"Brother Andrew," Philip said, thinking: What's got into him?
"What do you mean by disrupting the service of high mass?"
Philip was flabbergasted. "Disrupting the service?" he said incredulously. "The lad was misbehaving. He-"
"I am quite capable of dealing with misbehavior in my own services!" said Andrew in a raised voice. The movement of dispersal among the monks was arrested, and they all stayed near to hear what was said.
Philip could not understand the fuss. Young monks and novices occasionally had to be disciplined by their more senior brothers during the services, and there was no rule to say that only the sacrist could do this. Philip said: "But you