The Beautiful Mystery

When Gamache turned to see which of them had spoken he saw they all had their mouths slightly open.

“We don’t use that term anymore,” said the new arrival, scanning the men in front of him, his smile widening. “Puts people off.”

His voice was pleasant as he continued to stare at them.

The Gilbertines stared back, not smiling.

Finally the stranger turned to Dom Philippe, and offered his hand. The abbot, silently, took it. The young man bowed, then straightened up.

“My name is Brother Sébastien. I’ve come from Rome.”

“Tonight?” asked the abbot and immediately regretted the stupidity of the question. But he’d heard no plane, nor had he heard the motorboat.

“I flew in from Rome this morning, and made my way here.”

“But how?” the abbot asked.

“I paddled.”

Now it was Dom Philippe’s turn to stare, his mouth slightly open.

Frère Sébastien laughed. It was, like the rest of him, pleasant.

“I know. Not my most brilliant idea. A small plane got me to the local airfield but the fog was getting too thick and no one wanted to take me the rest of the way, so I decided to take myself.” He turned to look at Gamache, paused, perplexed, then looked back at the abbot. “You were much farther away than I realized.”

“You paddled all this way? From the village?”

“I did.”

“But that’s miles. How’d you even know where to go?” The abbot willed himself to be quiet, but he couldn’t seem to stop the questions.

“The boatman directed me. Said to keep going past three bays and to turn right at the fourth.” He seemed delighted by the directions. “But the mist got really heavy and I was afraid I’d made my last mistake. But then I heard your bells and followed the sound. When I got to the head of the bay I saw your lights. You have no idea how happy I am to find you.”

And he looked happy, thought Gamache. In fact, he looked ecstatic. He kept staring at the monks as though he wasn’t one himself. As though he’d never met a religieux.

“Have you come because of the prior?” asked Dom Philippe.

And Gamache had a sudden insight. He stepped forward, but it was too late.

“About his murder?” the abbot asked.

The abbot, a man who longed for great silence, had said too much.

Gamache took a deep breath and Frère Sébastien looked over at him, then his gaze shifted to Beauvoir, before finally resting on Superintendent Francoeur.

The smile slid from the young monk’s face, to be replaced by a look of great sympathy. He crossed himself and kissed his thumb, then folded his long hands in front of himself, and bowed slightly, his eyes grave.

“That’s why I was in such a rush. I came as soon as I heard. God rest his soul.”

Now all the monks crossed themselves, while Chief Inspector Gamache studied the newcomer. The man who’d paddled through the gathering darkness, through the gathering mist. Across an unfamiliar lake. And finally found the abbey by following the sound. And the light.

He’d traveled all the way from Rome.

Desperate, it would seem, to reach Saint-Gilbert-Entre-les-Loups. So desperate, he’d taken his life in his hands. This young man, while making a joke about his foolish decision making, looked extremely competent to Gamache. So why had he taken such a risk? What couldn’t wait until morning?

It wasn’t the prior’s murder, Gamache was sure of that. He’d known in the instant Dom Philippe had asked that this stranger knew nothing about it. It was news to Frère Sébastien.

If he’d really come all the way from Rome because of the prior’s death he’d have been more solemn. Would have offered his sympathies right away.

Instead he’d laughed at his own folly, talked of his travels, said how happy he was to see them. Marveled at the monks. But hadn’t once mentioned Frère Mathieu.

No. Frère Sébastien had a reason to be there. And an important one. But it had nothing to do with Frère Mathieu’s death.

“Were those the Vesper bells?” Frère Sébastien asked. “I’m so sorry, mon père, to have interrupted. Please, continue.”

The abbot hesitated then turned and walked back down the long corridor, the newcomer behind him, looking this way and that.

Gamache watched him closely. It was as though the visitor had never been in a monastery before.

The Chief signaled Brother Charles to stay at the back of the procession, with him. He waited until the others were a good distance ahead, then turned to the doctor.