The Beautiful Mystery (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #8)

The Beautiful Mystery (Chief Inspector Armand Gamache #8) Page 69

“Why would he hate the prior? I thought they were friends.”

“Because the prior was everything he isn’t. Brilliant, gifted, passionate. The abbot’s a dry old stick. A decent enough administrator, but no leader. He could quote the bible front and back, in English and French and Latin. But with the Gregorian chants? The center of our life here? Well, some know it and some feel it. The abbot knows the chants. The prior felt them. And that made Frère Mathieu a far more powerful man in the monastery. And the abbot knew it.”

“But it must have always been like that, why would the recording change anything?”

“Because as long as it was just us, they worked it out. Made a good team, in fact. But with the success of the recording, the power shifted. Suddenly the prior was getting recognition from the outside.”

“And with that came influence,” said Beauvoir.

“The abbot felt threatened. Then Frère Mathieu decided we should not only do another recording but go out into the world. Respond to the invitations. He felt strongly that those invitations came as much from God as from the people. It was, in essence, a literal ‘calling.’ Suppose Moses had kept the tablets? Or Jesus had remained a carpenter, privately communing with God? No. These gifts are meant to be shared. The prior wanted to share them. But the abbot didn’t.”

The words tumbled over themselves to leave Frère Antoine’s body. He couldn’t condemn Dom Philippe fast enough.

“The prior wanted the vow of silence lifted, so that we could go into the world.”

“And the abbot refused,” said Beauvoir. “Did he have much support?”

“Some of the brothers were loyal to him, more out of habit than anything. Habit and training. We’re taught to always bend our will to the abbot.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because Dom Philippe would’ve destroyed Saint-Gilbert. Taken it back to the Dark Ages. He wanted nothing to change. But it was too late. The recording changed everything. It was a gift of God. But the abbot refused to see it that way. He said the recording was like the serpent in the garden, trying to lure us away, seduce us with promises of power and money.”

“Maybe he was right,” Beauvoir suggested and was rewarded with a look of fury.

“He’s a frightened old man, clinging to the past.”

Frère Antoine was leaning toward Beauvoir, practically spitting the words. Then he paused, and a perplexed look crossed his face. The monk cocked his head to one side.

Beauvoir also paused to listen.

Something was coming.

*   *   *

Armand Gamache looked into the sky.

Something was coming.

He and the abbot had been discussing the garden. He wanted to bring the interview back to a more conversational tone. It was like fishing. Reel in, let go. Reel in, let go. Give the suspect the impression of freedom. That they were off the hook. Then reel them in again.

It was exhausting. For everyone. But mostly, Gamache knew, for whoever was on the hook and writhing.

The abbot had clearly interpreted this shift of tone and subject as Gamache relenting.

“Why do you think Dom Clément built this garden?” the Chief had asked.

“What do people who live close together value most?”

Gamache thought about that. Was it companionship? Peace and quiet? Tolerance?

“Privacy?”

The abbot nodded. “Oui. C’est ça. Dom Clément gave himself the one thing no one else in Saint-Gilbert had. Privacy.”

“Another division,” said Gamache, and the abbot looked at him. Dom Philippe had felt the slight tug on the line and realized what he’d taken for freedom wasn’t that at all.

Gamache considered what the abbot had just said. Maybe their legendary treasure wasn’t a thing, but nothing. An empty room no one knew about. And a lock.

Privacy. And with privacy, of course, came something else.

Safety.

That was, Gamache knew, what people valued most of all.

Then he heard it.

He scanned the clear blue sky. Nothing.

But something was there. And it was getting closer.

*   *   *

A roar shattered the peace. It seemed to be coming from all around them, as though the sky had opened its mouth and was shrieking at them.

All the mushroom monks, and Beauvoir, looked up.

Then, as a man, they ducked.

*   *   *

Gamache ducked and pulled Dom Philippe down with him.

The plane zoomed overhead and was gone in an instant. But Gamache heard it bank, and turn back.