V.  O King most Blessed, govern Thy servants in the right way. R.  Among Thy Saints, O King most Blessed. V.  By holy fasts to amend our sinful lives. R.  O King most Blessed, govern Thy Saints in the right way. V.  To duly keep Thy Paschal Feast. R.  Among Thy Saints, O King most Blessed.

“Brother Mark,” said Brother Augustine, on the morning of Palm Sunday, “did you notice that ghastly split infinitive in the last versicle at Compline? To duly keep. I can’t think why we don’t say the Office in Latin.”

Mark felt inclined to tell Brother Augustine that if nothing more vital than an infinitive was split during this holy season, the Community might have cause to congratulate itself.  Here now was Brother Birinus throwing away as useless the bundle of palms that lacked the blessing of a priest, throwing them away like dead flowers.

Sir Charles Horner, who had been in town, arrived at the Abbey on the Tuesday, and announced that he was going to spend Holy Week with the Community.

“We have no chaplain,” Mark told him.

“No chaplain!” Sir Charles exclaimed.  “But I understood that Andrew Hett had undertaken the job while Father Burrowes was away.”

Mark did not think that it was his duty to enlighten Sir Charles upon the dispute between Brother George and the chaplain.  However, it was not long before he found out what had occurred from the Prior’s own lips and came fuming back to the Guest-chamber.

“I consider the whole state of affairs most unsatisfactory,” he said.  “I really thought that when Brother George took charge here the Abbey would be better managed.”

“Please, Sir Charles,” Mark begged, “you make it very uncomfortable for me when you talk like that about the Reverend Brother before me.”

“Yes, but I must give my opinion.  I have a right to criticize when I am the person who is responsible for the Abbey’s existence here.  It’s all very fine for Brother George to ask me to notify Bazely at Wivelrod that the brethren wish to go to their Easter duties in his church.  Bazely is a very timid man.  I’ve already driven him into doing more than he really likes, and my presence in his church doesn’t alarm the parishioners.  In fact, they rather like it.  But they won’t like to see the church full of monks on Easter morning.  They’ll be more suspicious than ever of what they call poor Bazely’s innovations.  It’s not fair to administer such a shock to a remote country parish like Wivelrod, especially when they’re just beginning to get used to the vestments I gave them.  It seems to me that you’ve deliberately driven Andrew Hett away from the Abbey, and I don’t see why poor Bazely should be made to suffer.  How many monks are you now?  Fifteen?  Why, fifteen bulls in Wivelrod church would create less dismay!”