72. Supper

Agnes gave me a look of concern when I later entered the breakfast room where we eat our meals. As the monks gathered for our supper of lima beans and rice, my abbot did not speak to me at length.   He was brief. "Stay off the roof," he said to me. I knew my aborted take off would be discussed more fully at some future date.

At the end of our wordless meal, Agnes began his pitch.

“The day's silence is over," he said, "and I'll explain what’s happening with our monastery. You may ask questions when I am done and I will try my best to answer them.”

He didn’t say much. Had we been a group of businessmen about to light up after dinner cigars and top off our snifters with a bit more brandy, we would have settled back to find ourselves sorely disappointed with Agnes’ exceedingly brief foray into the world of our finances.

“You’re broke,” he said, and not a single person missed his distancing from us with the second person “you.” He continued, “The Brothers in Ireland are also facing dire financial straits and cannot continue to send money every 3 months. Our Lady’s Monastery at West Saugerties will close down in a few months. I have been sent here to figure out how to do that so that the welfare of each of you is considered.”

This was hardly news. We Brothers dined on our beans and rice and waited to hear of the efforts to be performed for our welfare. Agnes said nothing. Finally, Harpo spoke up.

“And what is your plan for us, Agnes?”

“I’m not at liberty to say just yet,” replied Agnes

“Oh, for chrissakes,” I heard Bouncer say under his breath. We all heard him say it under his breath.

“But that lady … Sally … is she part of this plan?” Raiser asked, hoping to milk more information from Agnes.

Agnes smiled, “A lovely lass she is, yes. She will help us to get a good price for the property so that the creditors can be paid.”

I looked over my shoulder to where Terd normally sat. I wished he was here.

“We have creditors?” asked Bouncer.

“The money sent to us each month has been borrowed from a bank in Merchant’s Quay in Cork.” said Agnes. This was news to us, but it hardly mattered. We were going to be put out on the street, left penniless. Well, penniless is part of our vocation, of course, but it is nice to be penniless with a few sacks of beans and rice in the larder and a roof over your head.

Where the hell was Terd?

Joe Cocker - A Little Help From My Friends