“And no one else knows?” Gamache confirmed.
“Well, Brother Raymond didn’t tell anyone. The abbot might’ve.”
Gamache walked a few paces in silence, thinking. Then he stopped.
“The prior was the abbot’s right hand. I wonder if Dom Philippe told him.”
Beauvoir thought about that. “It seems the sort of thing you tell your second in command.”
“Unless you were at war with him,” said Gamache, lost in thought. Trying to see what might have happened. Did the abbot tell the prior that Saint-Gilbert was literally crumbling? But then continued to hold firm against another recording. And continued, even in the face of this news, to refuse to break the silence that would allow the monks to tour and give interviews. To make the millions and millions it would take to save the abbey.
Suddenly the second recording of Gregorian chants went from a possible vanity project on the part of the monks and Frère Mathieu, to something vital. It wouldn’t simply put Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups on the map, it would save the entire abbey.
This had become no mere philosophical difference between the abbot and the prior. The very survival of the abbey was in the balance.
What would Frère Mathieu have done had he known?
“Their relationship was already strained,” said Gamache, starting to walk again, but slowly. Thinking out loud. His voice low, to avoid being overheard. It gave them the appearance of conspirators in the Blessed Chapel.
“The prior would’ve been in a fff…” On seeing Gamache’s face, Beauvoir shifted his words. “In a rage.”
“He was already in an effin’ rage,” agreed the Chief. “This would’ve propelled him right over the edge.”
“And if, faced with all this, the abbot continued to refuse a second recording? I bet Frère Mathieu would’ve threatened to tell the other monks. And then the shhh … the…” But Beauvoir could think of no other way of putting it.
“It certainly would,” agreed Gamache. “So…”
The Chief stopped again and stared into space. Putting the pieces together to form a similar, but different, image.
“So,” he turned to Beauvoir, “maybe Dom Philippe didn’t tell his prior that the foundations were crumbling. He’s smart enough to know what Frère Mathieu would do with that. He’d be handing his adversary a nuclear bomb of information. The cracked and rotting foundations would be the last and most potent argument the prior and his men would need.”
“You think the abbot kept the information to himself?”
“I think it’s possible. And he swore Frère Raymond to secrecy.”
“But if he told me,” said Beauvoir, “wouldn’t he have told the other monks?”
“Perhaps he felt the promise he made to the abbot only extended to the community. Not to you.”
“And maybe he’s had enough of silence,” said Beauvoir.
“And maybe,” said Gamache, “maybe Frère Raymond lied to you, and he did tell one other person.”
Beauvoir considered that for a moment. They heard the soft shuffling of monk feet in the Blessed Chapel and saw monks walking here and there, hugging the old walls. As though afraid to show themselves.
Gamache and Beauvoir had kept their voices low. Low enough, Beauvoir hoped. But if not, it was too late now.
“The prior,” said Beauvoir. “If Frère Raymond was going to break his promise to the abbot, he’d have gone to Frère Mathieu. He’d have felt justified, if he thought the abbot wasn’t going to act.”
Gamache nodded. It made sense. In the logical little world they’d just created. But so much about the lives of the monks didn’t seem logical. And the Chief Inspector had to remind himself not to confuse what should have been, what could have been, with what actually was.
They needed facts.
“If Frère Raymond told the prior, patron, what do you think would happen next?”
“I think we can guess. The prior would’ve been enraged—”
“—or maybe not,” Beauvoir interrupted and the Chief looked at him. “Well maybe the abbot, in staying silent about something so vital, had finally given the prior the weapon he needed. The prior might have pretended to be angry, but in fact, he might have been ecstatic.”
Gamache imagined the prior. Saw him getting the news about the crumbling foundations. The fact the abbot knew, and was apparently doing nothing. Except praying. What would the prior then do?
