“That will be well! It will still more beautify the church. But cease,” said Matthew, “to have this monk work at thy gold and silver! It goes not with kneeling and fasting all day and vigil at night, with great and sole visions and voices, and favour from the Saints!”
“Very good. I will put him to his book and solitude.”
The Prior took quill and drew upon a leaf of paper a plot of cells and passageways. “You will empty these five cells.”
“Aye. They shall go back to dormitory.”
“Door is to be here and door there. To get it done, while masons are upon it—and for other reasons as well—give your monk penance for some fault, sending him out of Silver Cross to Westforest. Let me have him for a month, no less.”
“What will you do with him?”
“I will indoctrinate him with expectancy.”
“Do you know,” said Mark doubtfully, “he is one that might one day become true saint.”
“Think you so? Well, I wish him innocent and believing—even as I hold Friar Paul across river may be innocent and believing!”
“‘Innocent!’” The Abbot groaned. “But you and I and Hugh will not be innocent!”