Behind the blank screen of the hut, Brother Fidelis coughed, a scraping sound made worse because he seemed to have so little strength to manage it. “We are like, you and I,” he said finally when he had recovered his breath. “I know what you are thinking, for I would be wondering the same thing, were I out there, and you in here. I have taken a vow of silence for many years now and shut myself in this hut so I would not be distracted by the world, but I feel that my time on this earth is coming to an end. So I will speak to you now, and answer your questions.”
She settled back onto her heels and set her hands on her thighs, letting him catch his breath. “I have come at the order of King Henry. He wishes to know if you have any knowledge of the laws during the reign of the Emperor Taillefer.”
“I was given as an infant to the cloister founded and ruled over by St. Radegundis, she who was the eighth and last wife and then widow of Taillefer. I served at that cloister among the brothers in the monastic quarters until her death, which occurred some fifty years after the death of Taillefer.” Here his voice quavered and she had to bend until her ear touched the wood in order to hear him. His labored breathing was louder than his words.
“That was a time of trial, and I did succumb, to my everlasting sorrow.” He took in a deep shuddering breath.
There was a long silence. Rosvita waited patiently. Behind, horses stamped. A bird trilled. The men-at-arms talked in low voices between themselves. Not even Villam dared approach the hut though Berthold was wandering restlessly along the outcropping, testing the rock for handholds.
“After that time I left the cloister to wander the world. With my voice I said that I sought more evidence of the miracles wrought by St. Radegundis, who in her merciful kindness and open-hearted generosity was the best and most pious among us. But in my heart I sought knowledge. I was curious. I could not find in me that detachment which we seek, those of us who are dedicated to the church. Knowledge tempted me too much. In the end I came here, when I became too weak to walk many miles at a stretch. At last I left even the monastery behind and was carried to this hill, to seek and find detachment. But I have failed in that also.” His voice was gentle, a little slurred. “It is well that Our Lady and Lord are merciful, for I pray they will forgive me these weaknesses.”
“I am sure they will, Brother,” she said, much touched by this vita, this brief history of his life.
“So I have some knowledge of the laws of Taillefer,” he finished. “Ask what you will.”