Lately Philip had been even more nervous about Mark. His inattention was drawing the rebukes of other brothers, of which Mark did not seem to take much heed. Philip was trying to think of a reason why Mark increasingly continued to stray in focus. Nothing came to mind, so he attempted to monitor Mark without giving the appearance of doing so, which he knew would be unappreciated by the boy. In addition to this, he saw to it that Mark was engaged in more physical activity than ever before.
For this reason, Mark was assigned the task of making repairs upon the outer walls. Usually they brought in a workman from without, but Mark was deemed capable enough to make the repairs, and strong enough that he need not the help of other brothers who could then be kept at their normal tasks. It was a taxing job: the mortar needed to be mixed, the rocks gathered, and then brought to the wall to ultimately be placed in the gaps. Some of the wall was also crumbling, so it had to be shored up with mortar. Mark figured it would take him at least two weeks to complete the job on his own. He started the week by pushing the wheelbarrow around the outer walls gathering stones. Some of the rocks had fallen out of the wall, but could be used again, and this is where he began the gathering of stones. But soon he needed more stones, and he knew that there was a pile from the fields just within the wood where the monks deposited them as they were pulled from the fields. So, half way through the first day, Mark pushed the wheelbarrow through the gates of the monastery after gaining permission from the gatekeeper, and set off on the road towards the fields.
No one would be working in the fields today. It was not part of the daily schedule, so Mark was alone as he walked on the road and made his way towards the back end of the last field. Mark put the wheelbarrow down to go into the woods a few feet to carry the stones from the pile. Mark leaned over one of the larger stones, and heaved it upright. He had gotten a rhythm going and had about ten stones in the wheelbarrow, when he was so startled that he dropped the stone he was carrying, almost on his foot.
"Oh, forgive me! Pray, are you all right?" Mark’s heart leapt to his throat, and without a thought put out his hand "Delia!" "I thought that was you, but I should have announced myself. I’m sorry to have startled you." "No, no harm done." "What are you doing?" "Preparing for repairs of the monasteries walls." "I see. Are you by yourself?" "Yes…" Delia came forward closer towards him, and her smile once again put him at ease. "We meet in the strangest ways, wouldn’t you say?" "Yes, we do. What were you doing right then?" "Well, this will sound a little odd," she said sitting herself down on a large rock. "I was out for a walk." "In the woods?" "I told you it would sound strange, but I enjoy the woods." "You do?" "Yes, I spend a lot of time in them. That’s where I was going the first day we met."
Mark blushed without knowing why. Perhaps it was because he had so often visited that day in his mind. He stood above her looking down and felt extremely large in comparison. She was so feminine. Without knowing much about women, he knew this much. The light was coming in through the leaves in patterns of light and dark, but her upturned face was softly lit, and it almost seemed to glow. Her hair was still covered by the white cap, which vaguely disappointed Mark. But her face was perfectly visible. Her skin was so white, yet blooming with color in her cheeks, especially when she would blush. Her eyes were clear blue and light in color, while her lashes were very dark and thick. Mark was practically mesmerized by her.
"Are you often out here?" "I work in the fields regularly." "I’ve often looked for you." Mark didn’t know how to respond, and Delia looked as if she knew that she had said the wrong thing. "If you’re busy, I’ll be on my way." "No, I was just about to take a break," Mark said sitting down on a log.
He wished he was used to making conversation, but he wasn’t, and when talking with her, he felt that she was doing all the talking and he was being silent and stupid. "Do you mind me asking you a question?" "No, not at all." "How long have you been a brother?" Mark was set back. He had not anticipated a question about his religious life, which was after all his entire life. "Since I was three I believe." "And you are?" Mark had to think for a moment; the brothers did not celebrate their birthday’s, only Christ’s. "Seventeen I believe." "Ah, you’re older than I. I thought as much. I’m only fifteen." For some reason Mark was struck by how much she offered about herself, he had been taught to think that a sign of pride, but he felt she was not operating within the same beliefs. "Fifteen isn’t much younger," he awkwardly offered. "I suppose not, but then, I’m the youngest of my family: I’m used to being younger." "How many are in your family?" "Ah, well…there is my mother and father, both still alive, and then there are my three brothers and my one sister, but she is ten years older than me…all married." "And you?" "I told you the first time we met I wasn’t married," she said laughing, and Mark blushed. "Forgive me, but I didn’t know if…" he trailed off feeling foolish. "No, I shouldn’t care to marry yet. No one at home is too eager to be rid of me either. My father is a merchant. We sell caps," she said pointing to her head with a roll of the eyes and crooked smile. Mark couldn’t help but laugh. "But, I’ve been going on…where is your family now?" "Oh, I wouldn’t know." "You don’t know?" "No, the brothers have no reason to speak of our lives before the cloth, and then I think they were travelers, they simply left me in the care of the brothers I suppose…I have no idea who or where they are."
He looked down at the ground. While he never gave much thought to this, the very idea that Delia had been interested made it seem like a regular feature he was lacking. "Well then, I could be your sister, I’ve had a lot of practice at that," she said seemingly playfully, so Mark was not sure he should remind her of the necessity in his lacking relatives, especially those within contact. He was in the family of Christ and submitting entirely to Christ. Suddenly, all these rules and thoughts came to his mind, and he felt ashamed for being with Delia. "I must go back to work."
Delia thankfully spared him further confusion by not begging him to stay. She stood up, dusting herself off, and curtseyed to Mark, before picking her way through the underbrush deeper into the woods. At the point where Mark could barely make her out, as he continued to watch her walking, he thought he perceived her turning her head around to meet his gaze.
V
Mark soon found himself contriving to be alone in the fields as much as possible. He found that it was not hard for him to convince the other monks that his time alone was the most beneficial for him spiritually. There was not any explicit lying involved either, because they came to this conclusion as the most reasonable explanation, although he realized this he did nothing to enlighten them as to his true intentions.
Brother Thomas, who felt the solitary life was most beneficial himself first noticed this apparent turn in Mark, and while he was normally a very quiet man, he thought enough of the young man’s quiet solitude and coming maturity that he brought it up at the elders meeting. Brothers Philip, Thomas, Peter, and Simon were all present as well as the Abbot. At first when Brother Thomas quietly brought up Mark, Philip looked up, afraid something negative was to be said about the boy to the Abbot, but was surprised by Thomas’ glowing report.
"If I might so humbly mention the Junior Mark…I have taken note of his recent turn towards the more solitary life." The Abbot nodded, but looked severe. Philip thought that perhaps the Abbot was thinking of Mark’s previous transgression. "I am very pleased with this Father. It seems that he has found what makes him feel the closest to God and how he might serve Him best. I thought perhaps it worth noting since he is one of our youngest and also coming out of the most trying time." "As is right," Brother Simon harshly added, "he was raised within these walls, there should be no question as to his calling.
***
Meanwhile, while the brothers were discussing Mark’s piety, Mark was making every attempt to see Delia. He could not be sure why or what he was hoping for, but he knew that he must see her. Sometimes he succeeded and other times he did not. But the feeling that arose inside of him every time he would see her and then speak with her was measureless and made up for all the other times. Sometimes they would sit in silence, and other times Delia would speak about life in general. Mark did his best to share, although he had less to speak about.
One time, he was working in the field with others and caught sight of her coming out of the wood. She had seen the others, and walked along the path seemingly obliviously, but Mark knew she was thinking about him and he knew why she had come. It was this precious little secret of which only he was in possession. He owned something in some way, where he had never owned anything before and been taught it was wrong and sinful to do so.
"Mark, do you like being a monk?" They were sitting back to back with Delia leaning against him in a casual way, but Mark had been silently concentrating on every breath she took as he felt it through his body. It was possibly the strangest question ever posed to him, one he had never thought to ask even of himself. He had always been a monk it seemed, and everyone around him was a monk…what life outside of the monastery could there be? And yet Delia seemed to have opened that world to him or at least cracked the door, giving him some glimpse into it.
Delia, after having waited a few minutes in silence for an answer sat forward and turned her head to look at him. She looked at him intensely, and he felt he couldn’t look away even if he tried. "It isn’t a matter of liking it or not, I suppose." "You mean something deeper than that? I guess I couldn’t understand." "Well, I think it is supposed to be deeper than that as you say. And with the others, it is. But I, I never had any choice in it. Do you like having been born to a merchant? You never had any choice in it…therefore, it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not, it’s what you know. It’s who you are." "You’re more than just a brother though Mark, just as I’m more than a merchant’s daughter. I know you as Mark, not as Brother Mark." "No, you know the product of Christianium…I’d be someone different otherwise." "Do you think you could be someone otherwise? I mean, could you still be you outside of the monastery?" "I wouldn’t know how to live. I’ve been raised to be what I will become, what I’m striving to be."
Delia didn’t respond immediately, but took her gaze off Mark. Slowly she turned away, and leaned back against him. "So, you are striving to be better…better than you are now?" Mark looked up into the trees. They had walked deeper into the woods than ever before. He thought Delia might think him a terrible excuse for a brother. "Both of us will change then," she calmly added. "Change? If I am to change, how is it you are to change?" She sighed, "I can’t stay like this forever Mark." She was vague in her answer, but this sort of response had an even graver effect on Mark, as it let him imbue it with all different meanings.
She often said his name, but he never said hers. Thinking on this, and feeling as if a wall was being slowly built between them, he turned and took her hand impulsively. "Delia…" Her eyes were pleading for something, but Mark couldn’t read them, and frustrated he dropped her hand.
VI
Perhaps that one question had entered his mind and begun to poison everything, or perhaps everything had already gone wrong, and he had merely been awakened to the fact. Whatever the cause, Mark felt it acutely. He seemed to feel anger at everything in his life: anger at his role, anger at his fellow brothers, anger towards Father Philip who was too patient to be tolerated, anger towards the life he had been handed, and anger at Delia. He could not enjoy anything, and yet he wondered whether he had ever enjoyed anything in the past. Yet, enjoyment was not supposed to be the goal of his existence: his goal should be submission to God. Somehow he knew that what he felt about his brothers and God was so wholly different from the way he felt about Delia. The anger at Delia did not so much as originate in his new viewpoint brought on by her existence as her mysterious disappearance. It was a sense of betrayal. Delia was his friend, his first and only friend as far as Mark was concerned, and just when he had all these questions she had left him.
He stopped trying to find time alone to be in the fields or near the wood, because he was always disappointed, and each time he had to work in the field, he resented the fact that she was not there and he was. He eventually began to request to labor elsewhere, because he said the distant work in the fields left him unsatisfied in his work. The brothers were happy to accommodate Mark, as he could be used many places, being so strong and such a good worker. And yet, he was not as good a worker as he had been before, and Mark was less and less careful about everything. He began to be punished on a more regular basis and he received many reprimands. At night he continued not to sleep, thinking randomly displaced thoughts and biting his lip or grinding his teeth. He thought the only thing that could set things right would be to see Delia one last time and really talk with her, say anything and everything, and only then could he completely devote himself to the monastery and the life he was meant to lead.
"Brother Mark, watch your step…you are treading along the garden edge," Brother Simon angrily pointed out. "Forgive me," Mark said mindlessly, and stepped over the first row of cabbage. He bent over the second row to begin pulling weeds, when he noticed his junior, Brother William, who was only eleven, looking up in distraction. Mark’s gaze followed the boy’s, as easily distracted as the undisciplined youth. A group of lay people were walking through the compound, and leading the group was the Abbot, who appeared to be talking to them quietly. "Who’s that you think?" Junior William whispered to Mark. Mark was slightly annoyed to be assumed to be a willing partner in the junior’s disobedience, so he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned silently around to continue pulling the weeds, but he did watch out of the corner of his eye as they moved towards the Abbot’s house.
Guests were not unheard of at Christianium, but they were normally travelers seeking rest for the night, and thus the monks did not come across them. Occasionally, traveling brothers came as well, but they also had nothing to do with the brothers of their monastery, other than to give a short blessing should one encounter the other. Thus, such an event in broad daylight and obviously of some importance drew the attention of many a person within the walls of Christianium.
A meeting followed a week later. The Abbot spoke to all of the brothers. Very rarely was everyone gathered together in such a formal way for reasons other than worship, signaling a mysterious matter of importance. Everyone’s attention was aptly fixed on Abbot, when he entered and stood at the front of the room. "We are gathered here to discuss a matter which will affect us all, and this is why I have brought all of you together. We are a self-governing body, and all voices may be heard. But first let me lay this proposition before you. Keep in mind that we need to act in the way which will promote the worship of God, as well as continuing our submission towards His wishes." The brothers all nodded, except for Brother Simon, who was quietly looking sullen in the corner.
"This week, I was approached by upstanding members of the town of Christianium. They came to me in order to obtain your feelings on a subject of some importance to the town, the town that owes its existence to our monastery. The men of Christianium feel it improper that as of yet, they have no church. While Christianium is a small town, the fullest on market days, it does support enough people that it makes it shameful that the people have no place to worship. Now, we have always remained much in solitude here behind our walls, and meanwhile the country-folk go without guidance. To come to the point: the men of the town have requested that a priest be found for our monastery, so that on Sundays, the people may worship with us. I have taken this thought under great consideration, and now I bring it forth for you."
Mark thought to himself that the Abbot must support the idea, or he would have never even needed to bring it up. Most of the brothers probably thought as much as well, but there were a few that felt compelled to speak. Brother Philip slowly stood first, and Mark thought he looked very old. "If I might speak in front of my fellow brothers…I think that while we might fear the intrusion of people from the outside into our world, there is a great need for religion within the town, and this is also a part of our responsibility. Christ’s disciples were teachers first, which is what we could become, not only towards our own, but to the townspeople as well." Brother Simon stood up haughtily; "the people, who care to worship, travel on Sunday’s to the neighboring church in Gloucester. There is no need for us to waste our time on people too lazy to make a trip for the Lord on the Lord’s day." "Not everyone may leave their homes in order to worship. There are those for whom it is simply impossible," Brother Thomas interjected quietly. "We should share our church with those in the community," added another brother. "They wouldn’t have direct contact with us," the Abbot calmly stated. This quieted a number of the members who had begun to mumble. "We can discuss this with decorum, can we not?" Brother Philip added.
The debate went on for an hour at least, but nothing appeared to be resolved, as certain people sided with Brother Simon and others with Brother’s Thomas and Philip. The Abbot said little after his first statement and sat silently observing. Mark felt like he was the only one to see the Abbot for what he was: a despot, who only gave the illusion of shared decisions and power, when he had already decided what would happen to them and the monastery.
A week later, a priest arrived at Christianium and the church was set up for public use, with a heavy curtained wall between the brothers and the people, where they would stand and chant. No one had ever said that the decision had been made one way or the other, but the Abbot gave the impression that the priest had been sent by the greater authorities, and therefore there was no reason not to have a public service.
