“But you had no great hopes?”

“We always have hope. That’s another thing we never run out of. What we didn’t have were high expectations. The plan was to make the recording and sell it at extortionary rates to family and friends. And through the shops in some of the other monasteries. Our friends and families would play the CD once, just to say they’d done it, then put it away and forget about it.”

“But something happened.”

Bernard nodded. “It took a while. We sold a few hundred. Got enough to buy materials to repair the roof. But then about a year after the CDs went out we started getting money into our account. I remember being in Chapter when the abbot told us that more than a hundred thousand dollars had appeared in our account. He’d had the brother who does our accounting double-check and sure enough, it came from the recordings. More had been made, with our permission, but we didn’t know how many. And then there were the electronic versions. The downloads.”

“How did the brothers react?”

“Well, it seemed a miracle. On so many levels. We suddenly had more money than we could use, and more coming all the time. But money aside, it was as if God had given His blessing. Smiled on the project.”

“And not just God, but the outside world,” said Gamache.

“True. It seemed everyone all at once discovered how beautiful our music was.”

“Validation?”

Frère Bernard colored and nodded. “I’m embarrassed to admit, but that’s what it felt like. It seemed to matter after all. What the world thought.”

“The world loved you.”

Bernard took a deep breath and lowered his gaze to his hands, now resting on the lap of his robe. Cradling the ends of the rope around his waist.

“And for a while that felt wonderful,” said Frère Bernard.

“What happened?”

“The world not only discovered our music, they discovered us. Planes started buzzing overhead, people arrived by the boatload. Reporters, sightseers. Self-proclaimed pilgrims came to worship us. It was terrible.”

“The price of fame.”

“All we wanted was heat in the winter,” said Frère Bernard. “And a roof that didn’t leak.”

“But still, you managed to hold them all off.”

“That was Dom Philippe. He made it clear to other monasteries, and to the public, that we’re a reclusive order. With a rule of silence. He even went on television, just the once. Radio Canada.”

“I saw the interview.” Though it could hardly be called an interview. It was Dom Philippe standing in an anonymous location, in his robes. Looking at the camera, and imploring people to please leave his monastery alone. He was glad everyone was enjoying the chants, but said it was all they had to offer. They could give nothing more. But the world could give them, the monks of Saint-Gilbert, a great gift. Peace and quiet.

“And did they leave the monks alone?” asked Gamache.

“Eventually.”

“But peace wasn’t restored, was it?”

They left the shower rooms and Gamache followed Frère Bernard down the quiet corridor. Toward the closed door at the end. Not the one into the Blessed Chapel. But the other end.

Frère Bernard pulled on the handle and they stepped into a bright new day.

They were, in fact, in a huge walled enclosure. With goats and sheep, chickens and ducks. Frère Bernard took a reed basket for himself and handed one to Gamache.

The air was fresh, cool, and felt good after the heat of the shower. Over the high wall he could see pine trees, and hear birds and the soft lapping of water on rocks.

“Excusez-moi,” said Bernard to the chicken before taking her egg. “Merci.”

Gamache also burrowed his large hand under the chickens, and found the warm eggs. He placed them carefully in his basket.

“Merci,” he said to each chicken.

“Peace appeared to have been restored, Chief Inspector,” said Bernard as he moved from hen to hen. “But Saint-Gilbert didn’t feel the same. There was tension. Some of the monks wanted to capitalize on our popularity. Arguing it was clearly God’s will, and it would be wicked to turn our backs on such an opportunity.”

“And others?”

“They argued that God had been generous enough, and we needed to accept what He’d given with humility. That this was a test. That fame was a serpent, masquerading as a friend. This was our temptation and we needed to reject it.”

“Where did Frère Mathieu stand?”