"Let the matter be brought to an issue then according to our old-time
monastic habit. Bid the chancellor and the sub-chancellor lead
in the brothers according to age, together with brother John, the
accused, and brother Ambrose, the accuser."

"And the novices?"

"Let them bide in the north alley of the cloisters. Stay! Bid
the sub-chancellor send out to them Thomas the lector to read
unto them from the `Gesta beati Benedicti.' It may save them
from foolish and pernicious babbling."

The Abbot was left to himself once more, and bent his thin gray
face over his illuminated breviary. So he remained while the
senior monks filed slowly and sedately into the chamber seating
themselves upon the long oaken benches which lined the wall on
either side. At the further end, in two high chairs as large as
that of the Abbot, though hardly as elaborately carved, sat the
master of the novices and the chancellor, the latter a broad and
portly priest, with dark mirthful eyes and a thick outgrowth of
crisp black hair all round his tonsured head. Between them stood
a lean, white-faced brother who appeared to be ill at ease,
shifting his feet from side to side and tapping his chin
nervously with the long parchment roll which he held in his hand.
The Abbot, from his point of vantage, looked down on the two long
lines of faces, placid and sun-browned for the most part, with
the large bovine eyes and unlined features which told of their
easy, unchanging existence. Then he turned his eager fiery gaze
upon the pale-faced monk who faced him.