(4) Fall

After the death of King Henry, I decided it was fairly safe to dip
back into my project about the late Archbishop Thomas a Becket.
Henry's successor was King Richard I, who seemed a far more
fair and benevolent ruler. Still, I felt I should be careful. But I did
start writing the book about this martyr--in secret.

Also, my stress level subsided considerably. I was relaxing into
my duties quite nicely, and sleeping well at nights. Most curious,
but I kept having re-occurring dreams. I kept dreaming about an
older, kindly looking woman who probably was about my age.
Scratching my head, I knew that I had never met her in my life.
But I kept dreaming about this matronly woman.

Perhaps some six months later I had a visitor, the young scion of
one of the greatest families in the area. Indeed, earlier family
members of this aristocratic house had been responsible for
the earlier construction of Tewkesbury Abbey! The young man
asked a favor of me. His mother had heard good reports about
me, and she was hoping that I might serve as her spiritual guide.
I could hardly decline.

So arrangements were made for his mother, Lady Helen, to meet
with me perhaps twice monthly. Need I say that I was a little
nervous, but I almost dropped when I first saw her. Unbelievable,
but she was the woman in my recent dreams! It was as if her
arrival was foretold. After our first meeting, I relaxed. She was a
kind and intelligent woman, quite well educated, who not only
loved her children but also her grandchildren. Lady Helen was
my age, born exactly one month after myself.

Basically, she was interested in pursuing the study of Scripture
more in-depth, from a more mature perspective. Also, she was
interested in pursuing the Benedictine lifestyle as it might apply
to her and her situation as the matriarch of her great family.
Listening to her, I began to think that I might actually learn more
spiritually from her than she from me.

Lady Helen made me feel comfortable.

(3) Fall

Soon thereafter I stood before the monastic community and citizens
of the village, as well as members of the leading families in the
region, and kneeled before the Diocesan Bishop of Hereford and
the Abbot of the nearby Gloucester Abbey and took my Abbatial
vows. I had only entered into my 51st year. In full ceremonial
dress--that included a mitre and staff as well vestments and
insignia--I followed the great procession out of the church,
blessing the congregation. It was like a whirlwind, suddenly
realizing that I had become a Benedictine Abbot.

I suspect that I was made the fastest abbot in the Benedictine Order.
I didn't even have time to greet the monks properly. Later I found
that there were some 40 monks at Tewkesbury, less than half those
who resided at the Christ Church Priory. So I smugly thought that I
would be more than able to lead this new abbey community. My
smugness soon dissipated, when I discovered that we had a
considerable monastic diversity. Tewkesbury was a country abbey,
and a good number of its monks were "field monks." They were
barely literate, mainly tending to our adjacent lands, producing our
food, tending to large herds of cattle, seeing to it that the Abbey also
turned a profit producing flour in its mills, and sending cheese and
milk products down river to nearby villages.

It seemed as if I was challenged to be even more a businessman
than when I was at Canterbury. I had to spend a lot of time in the
saddle, inspecting the lands, visiting the mills. But this effort proved
a good thing, because I not only came to value more the work of
our field monks but also I had occasion to meet the common people.
Happily I got along very well with these good rough folk, and that
gave me a considerable satisfaction.

About one-third of the monastic community were "choir monks," in
that they were more educated and were usually younger sons from
the great houses in the area. But even these particular monks were
rough-around-the-edges. Though I had been a younger son, by
good luck I had acquired a more scholarly education than most
of Tewkesbury's choir monks. So I could see that my work was cut
out, trying to raise the education level of all my monks. Right off, I
needed to raise the standards of both the abbey's novitiate and
monastic school. This would be a long-term undertaking, so I really
had to remain patient.

Hard work, all of this, but I was really happy. As a scholar I was doing
what came naturally. I taught far more at Tewkesbury than I did at
Christ Church Priory. Basically I was the lonely scholar for a long
period of time. But the word got out that we were developing a
serious educational program, and over times the abbey began to
attract some scholar-monks who could help build-up the monastic
community.

Beyond this, my new-found friend--the Abbot of Gloucester Abbey--
informed me that we abbots in the region took turns inspecting the
various Benedictine houses in the area. Hence my time as an
inspector would come around. Sighing at the thought, I knew I
would be spending far more time on horseback than I wished.
Still all this endeavor, traveling around and about, took my mind
far and away from the king and Archbishop Baldwin.

But that was soon to change. Almost exactly a year after my
arrival at Tewkesbury, the news came that King Henry had died.
This surprised me, in that he was only two years older than me.
As for Baldwin, his tenure as archbishop soon ended as well.
Ironic, very ironic. If I could have managed to have stayed at
Christ Church Priory, I probably would have found more smooth
sailing. However, Fate moves us as it will. For some unknown
reason, I felt strongly that I was meant to come to Tewkesbury
because of something special that I needed to experience.

(2) Fall

I knew that it would take a number of days to reach the Welsh
border where my new abbey was situated. Even though sad,
an ounce of humor slipped through when I realized that I was
being sent about as far away from Canterbury possible and
still remain in England. At least I was not sent to the North,
in that it is far more rugged territory.

About midway into our trip I figured that, if not by the king and
Baldwin, I might be put under anyway--what with the persistently
damp weather we had to trek through. I had chills and fever, so
we had to pitch camp in the middle of nowhere. I took to my cot
and slept. Shortly afterwards I had the strangest experience.

Laying still I suddenly felt very light, feeling no weight whatsoever
The tent seemed to have evaporated and, rather, I seemed totally
enclosed in a brown space. It was like a corridor, and at the end
I saw a great Light. As I went towards it, the more luminous it
became. The Light was as bright a light that I had ever seen. At
this point I seemed to be able to see myself, and it seemed as if I
were only a small globe of light standing before this great Light.
I heard thoughts coming into my mind. There was no speech,
just thought.

The Light was communicating with me, and I with it. I felt no fear.
My mind entertained my entire life in review. The great Light pointed
out where I had stumbled, where I could do better, where I had done
well. I cried over my guilt about spurning Love, about my concern
for the young maiden who I had met in my youth. The Light did not
condemn me, but rather relayed that the young maiden was all
right--having taken a new form in another space in another time.
She was well and living far more profitably.

I barely understood what any of this might mean. The great Light
continued, noting the young maiden and many other souls of my
acquaintance would forever be linked with my soul through all
space and time. But the young maiden was *not* the mate of my
soul. Rather I would soon meet the "soul of my soul." I felt very
comforted by this Light. There was only Love and Comfort. Then
I was told that I had to return, because there was yet much work
for me to do, much learning I must come to understand.

Suddenly I was back in the tent, wrenched awake. For a few
minutes I seemed paralyzed, not able to move, rendered
incredulous by this strange dream. But eventually a strong
energy moved through my body. My fever had broke, and I
felt refreshingly hopeful and ready to move on!

Several days later we finally approached Tewkesbury Abbey. It
was near a small village, situated near the confluence of the River
Severn and the River Avon. Drawing near I realized that I was
looking at an architectural gem. The Abbey and its Church looked
to be a beautiful masterpiece of golden stone. The sheer
magnificence of the place took my breath away!

(1) Fall

Chapter Three: FALL

At least Archbishop Baldwin allowed us monks food, albeit slim
pickings. That was all right, because we weren't into gluttony
anyway! As prior my duties were considerably reduced by the
imprisonment, so I bided my time teaching more. We began to
enrich the novitiate scholastically. And with the help of some
our older monks, I happened upon a project.

I started making inquiries about the tenure of that great archbishop,
Thomas a Becket. The memories of these monks who served with
him were still fresh. So I interviewed these monks, wrote down
their perceptions, and collated my notes. Over the course of more
than a year engaged in this project, I realized that I possessed
some considerably dangerous information. No matter how one
looked at this information about Thomas a Becket, it pointed to a
seriously awry relationship between this late, good archbishop
and King Henry II. Though the king claimed innocence in regard
to Thomas' death, my monk's reporting told a far different story.

What with our problems with Archbishop Baldwin, I wasn't about
to irritate the king by writing a book and making it public. If I did,
I knew that I likely would have pronounced my own death sentence--
albeit done surreptitiously! So I hid my notes, yet I kept them close
to me.

Towards the end of the second year of our monastic imprisonment,
Archbishop Baldwin asked me to meet with him. The man was
blunt. He said that I had been appointed to become the Abbot of
Tewkesbury Abbey, near the Welsh Border, and I had best accept
the appointment. He hinted that once I was gone, he would lift
the closure ban on the cloisters of our priory if I left.

Sadly I knew that Baldwin had the backing of King Henry II,
otherwise the offer to become an abbot would never had been
made. As far as I was concerned, I knew my fate had been
chiseled in stone. I had no real choice in the matter, else my
life--as well as Christ Church Priory--would be in jeopardy!
My heart was broken.

In less than a week I was sent packing. Tears flowed in the priory.
I had no idea how much the monks had cherished me as their
prior. Publicly I had to hold back my own tears, trying to boost
the morale of the priory. I told them the good news that soon
their cloisters would be unlocked by Archbishop Baldwin and
that presumably they would once again serve the cathedral.
But back in my own rooms, I wept. My so-called advancement
was a travesty. And in accepting, I would be taken away from
the monastic home that I had come to love so deeply!

The black day came. I stood before the gate of the cathedral,
dressed for travel, guarded by some of the king's soldiers who
presumably were to protect me during our long journey. Standing
at the gate, I asked for a sword from one of the soldiers. He was
leery, but relieved when I plunged the sword into the ground--
making its hilt into the sign-of-the cross. I knelt before it and
prayed hard for my beloved priory. Done, I rose, gave a farewell
blessing over my monks, and mounted my horse.

As we rode out onto the street, I was shocked. There stood
hundreds of the townspeople. They cheered, yelling out their
good wishes. I blessed them too! But it had to be one of the
saddest days of my life.

(4) Summer

For almost three years I had enjoyed being the prior of
Christ Church Priory, but than our good archbishop died.
His death brought disturbance, in that King Henry decided
to elect a henchman as archbishop. He did this, overriding
the priory's selections--who were all Benedictines. Instead
the king chose a Cistercian abbot, who earlier had been a
secular archdeacon and had worked in Rome for the Papacy.
Baldwin of Exerter seemed more the King's man than a
true monastic. Our new archbishop was more political than
spiritual.

Needless to say, there was lots of upset in the priory. Fuel
was added to the fire when Archbishop Baldwin was tending
towards making the Canterbury See more a secular church.
Rather than having the monks serve the cathedral, he was
thinking more in terms of canons.

This most certainly did not go down well with our monks.
And, alas, as prior I was caught in the middle of all this
dissension. Earlier I had voiced my support for the
Benedictine candidates the priory had put forth. I even
took our concern to the King personally. Emotions ran
high--and I even drew faint at one point. I was not used to
such discord. King Henry seemingly was kind towards me,
but he wasn't going to swerve away from his choice.

Baldwin became our new archbishop, but he believed that
Christ Church Priory was his enemy. Consequently, he
took away some the priory's lands. And, worse, he locked
the entire priory into its cloisters. We had become monastic
prisoners! As the prior, I assumed the sadness of the priory
onto my shoulders. It had become a tragic situation. Dire
times had fallen on our priory!

(3) Summer

Being a prior nearly immediately taught me that I could no
longer follow just the daily rhythm of the ordinary monk. I
discovered that I had many other duties beyond this quiet
pace that I had come to cherish. Being responsible for the
priory, I had to attend far more to practical business! I had
to adjust, else the priory would go under.

Christ Church Priory consisted of only choir monks. We had
no field monks who worked nearby agricultural holdings,
like those in country abbeys. Of course the priory owned
major tracts of land, rented out to villagers in the region.
Hence, I had to visit these areas, make sure that our food
supply was readily replenished. This meant getting out
amongst ordinary people; but, after even those short years
my being a monk, it was a bit of an adjustment for me.

Within the confines of the priory, I had to review the books
that marked our expenditures. As for "books," well I began
to realize that we had well over 500 books--on many monastic
topics--that were scattered all over the priory. Not easy to do,
but it was my intent to collect these books from hither and yon
and place them in the common room. I had in mind creating
a small library.

As for my teaching, during some of our chapter meetings I
would give a small talk. But it didn't equate to my teachings
when a Master. I had to let go this pleasurable duty and
delegate such to another qualified monk. The chapter
meetings were periodic, bringing the entire community
together to discuss their needs and their ideas.

During one chapter meet, the discussion turned to the topic
of music. Yes, we were choir monks--but our delivery of the
Psalms was mostly in monotone, rather than in song as was
put by choir monks in some of the Continent's major abbeys
and cathedrals. I decided that we need start developing a
true choral capability. Easier said than done, however, in
that finding musically inclined monks with good voices was
a hair-pulling endeavor. Still, slowly and sometimes painfully,
we made headway towards enhancing the liturgy and the
monastic hours into more beautiful ceremonies.

Also, we began to insert illuminations into our copies of
the Bible. Some of our monks were really excellent artists.
So under my tutelage, Christ Church Priory established a
small workshop where these monks could work copying
the Bible, adding their illuminations, for the purpose of
supplying them to other abbeys and priories in England.
In due course we became a center for such efforts.

(2) Summer

Work proved an outlet for me. All the duties in the priory were
held in common. One could work in the kitchen as well as read
scholarly texts in his cell. Some of my first work was helping in
the infirmary, tending to the sick. Early on, too, I helped serve
the poor who came our way. Canterbury was deemed a town,
but compared to places like Paris--or even Benevento--it seemed
more like an oversized village. Most of the town's housing was
near the Cathedral or the nearby St. Augustine's Abbey, yet
another Benedictine house. As for the poor, working with them
I got to meet a lot of the town's inhabitants.

Still life was picking-up for Canterbury, based on a tragedy--the
murder of the late Archbishop, Thomas a Becket. Originally he
was a close friend of King Henry II, but over time he was being
steadily pressured by the King's determination to interfere in
Church affairs. The King wanted to *use* Thomas as his own
point person, who would simply give over to him. The Archbishop
would not comply and became a troublesome thorn for the King.
Hence Thomas a Becket was murdered in the Cathedral, only
a few years before I arrived. The King's men martyred Becket,
though Henry tried to beg off.

Consequently, this tragedy spawned numerous pilgrimages
to Canterbury, to the Cathedral where Thomas a Becket was
murdered. This good Archbishop had become a favorite of the
people, and Canterbury had become a recipient of the pilgrim's
money. So life was picking-up for the town.

Anyway, after completing my novitiate I smoothly moved into
the various functions of the priory. Mainly I was designated
a "Master," once again, in that I was tapped to teach the monks
a myriad of religious and theological subjects. This was not
surprising, since only a few of the monks were actually even
fairly well-educated. Most of the monks were younger sons or
left as child oblates, and they were the monastic majority in
the priory. Nonetheless, most were open to learning. I made
it easier for them by trying to make theological and doctrinal
complexities somewhat understandable. And as I did in Paris,
I emphasized Love and Forgiveness.

No doubt everyone has a certain need for forgiveness. But
my need seem to become more critical as each day passed.
Guilt was eating away my heart and mind. Then came the
threshold that I had to pass through. When I was 44 years of
age, our prior left to become the Abbot of Battle Abbey. God
only knows why, but the priory's community voted for me to
become their new prior. I was both stunned and disturbed.

I was disturbed, because I had carried my hidden guilt all
through the years--not once talking about it in confession.
Worried about my position in the Church, I still did not trust
God to help me through. Carrying the guilt, I was not clean.
It wasn't so much the sinful act of lust as it was the terrible act
of spurning Love.

At last I garnered up the courage to take this guilt into
confession. I could do no less, if I were to accept becoming
the Prior of Christ Church Priory. I chose our now presiding
Archbishop Richard to be my confessor. He had once been
the Prior of Dover, and I believed him to be a good and
tolerant man. Nonetheless, as I entered the confessor's
box I was trembling with fear.

It proved a terrible hour for me, unburdening this guilt on
my Archbishop. Good man he was, but he was *not* easy
on me. Essentially he told me what I already knew, that I
would have to pay a lifetime of penance for my crime against
Love. Oddly, he barely made mention the sin of lust that
I surely had committed during the course of this affair. In the
end I came out of that confession feeling at least slightly
more cleansed.

My Archbishop made no objection to my becoming the Prior.
Hence, I accepted the monks' call to be their leader.