The Miracle at St. Bruno's

"He doesn't look holy," whispered Keziah, "but he's too young for it to show.”

"Who are you?" he asked, giving me a cold direct stare.

"Damask Farland," I said. "I live at the big house.”

"You should not be here," answered the Child.

"Now, darling, we've a right to be here," replied Keziah.

"This is Abbey land," retorted the boy.

Keziah chuckled. "Not where we are. We're on the wall.”

The boy picked up a stone and looked about him as though to see if he would be observed throwing it at us.

"Oh, that's wicked," cried Keziah. "You wouldn't think he was holy, would you? He is though. Only holiness doesn’t show till they get older. Some of the saints have been very naughty boys. Do you know that, Dammy? It's in some of the stories. They get their halos later on.”

"But this one was born holy, Keziah," I whispered.

"You are wicked," cried the boy; and at that moment one of the monks came walking across the grass.

"Bruno," called the monk; and then he saw us on the wall.

Keziah smiled at him rather strangely, I thought, because after all he was a monk, and I knew by his robes that he was not one of the lay brothers who left the Abbey and mingled with the world.

"What are you doing here?" he cried; and I thought Keziah would jump down, lift me down and run, for he was clearly very shocked to see us.

"I'm looking at the Child," said Keziah. "He's a bonny sight.”

The monk appeared to be distressed by our wickedness.

"It's only me and my little 'un," said Keziah in that comfortable easy way which made everything less serious than others were trying to make it out to be. "He was going to throw a stone at us.”

"That was wrong, Bruno," said the monk.

The boy lifted his head and said: "They shouldn't be here, Brother Ambrose.”

"But you must not throw stones. You know that Brother Valerian teaches you to love everybody.”

"Not sinners," said the Child.

I felt very wicked then. I was a sinner. He had said so and he was the Holy Child.

I thought of Jesus who had been in His crib on Christmas Day and how different He must have been. He was humble, my mother told me, and tried to help sinners. I could not believe that He would ever have wanted to throw stones at them.

"You're looking well, Brother Ambrose," said Keziah. She might have been talking to torn Skillen, one of our gardeners to whom she did talk very often. There was a little trill at the end of her sentence which was not quite a laugh but served the same purpose since it betrayed her refusal to admit anything was very serious in any situation.

The Child was watching us intently, but strangely enough I found my attention becoming fixed on Keziah and the monk. The Child might become a prophet, I had heard, but at this time he was simply a child, though an unusual one, and I accepted the fact that he had been found in the Christmas crib as I accepted the stories of witches and fairies which Keziah told me; but grown-up people interested me because they often seemed to be hiding something from me and to discover what was a kind of challenge which I could not resist meeting.

We saw the lay brothers now and then in the lanes, but not the monks who lived the enclosed life; and I had heard that in the last years when the fame of St. Bruno's had spread the number of lay brothers had increased. Sometimes they went into the city because there were the products of the Abbey to be disposed of and business to discuss; but they always went into the world outside the Abbey in twos. Wealthy parents sent their sons to the Abbey to be educated by the monks; men seeking work often found it in the Abbey farm, mill or bake and brew houses. There was a great deal of activity, for not only was there the monastic community but mendicants, and poor travelers would always be given a meal and a night's shelter for it was a rule that none who lacked these should be turned away.

But although I had seen the brothers in pairs walking along the lanes, usually silent, their eyes averted from worldly sights, I had never before seen a monk and a woman together. I did not know then what kind of woman Keziah was, but in spite of my youth I was very curious on this occasion and surprised by the challenging and the jocular disrespect which Keziah seemed to show toward Brother Ambrose. I could not understand why he did not reprove her.

All he did say was: "You should not look on what you are not meant to see.”

Then he took the Child firmly by the hand and led him away. I hoped the boy would look around but he did not.

When they had gone Keziah jumped down and lifted me off the wall.

I chattered excitedly about our adventure.

"His name's Bruno.”

"Yes, after the Abbey.”

"How did they know that was his name?”

"They gave it to him, and right and proper it is.”

"Is he Saint Bruno?”

"Not yet-that's to come.”

"I don't think he liked us.”

Keziah did not answer. She seemed to be thinking of something else.

As we were about to enter the house she said: "That was our adventure, wasn't it?

Our secret, eh, Dammy? We won't tell anyone, will we?”

"Why not?”