Connect with us

Features

Sir John takes over, cabinet meeting at N’Eliya and the EL Senanayake election case

Published

on

Standing L to R – B. P. Peiris, C. W. W. Kannangara, Sir Kanthiah Valthiyanathan, Montague Jayawickrama, M. D. H. Jayawardene, E. B. Wickramanayake, N. H. Keerthiratne, Shirley Corea Seated L to R - M. D. Banda, A. Ratnayake, J. R Jayawardene, Sir John Kotelawala, E. A. Nugawela, Dr M. C. M. Kaleel, P.B. Bulankulame Dissawa

(Excerpted from Memoirs of a Cabinet Secretary by BP Peiris)

The first meeting of the new Cabinet placed on record its appreciation of the services rendered to the country by Mr Dudley Senanayake. Sir Kanthiah Vaithianathan, who had resigned his post as Permanent Secretary to the Ministry of Defence and External Affairs, took over the Portfolio of Housing and Social Services.

Sir John was spending a few days in December 1953 at his official residence, The Lodge, Nuwara Eliya. More out of mischief than on grounds of urgency, he summoned the Cabinet to meet at The Lodge on December 31. On the New Year Day following, A. G. Ranasinha, the Secretary, was to receive the honour of knighthood, and I, the O.B.E., and we found the arrangement very inconvenient, but had to obey orders and attend the meeting.

We accordingly travelled to Nanu Oya by the night train on the 30th with office peons and Cabinet security boxes. On reaching our destination early next morning at about six, we found Police cars waiting for us on Sir John’s instructions. On our reaching The Lodge, the cook, Periasamy, was there to greet us, again on Sir John’s orders, with egg hoppers and fish curry, which was most welcome. Sir John was asleep but had given his orders with military precision.

We soon got ready and the meeting started rather early at about 9 a.m. At 11 a.m. drinks were served. Every possible brand of liquor was laid out on a side table, and we were asked to help ourselves. At 1 p.m. there was a short adjournment for lunch, preceded by a few more drinks. An excellent lunch, of mulligatawny, yellow rice and chicken curry was provided by the cook. The meeting terminated early afternoon and we had to while away the time till 5 p.m., when Lord Soulbury had invited us to tea.

Some Ministers preferred to walk on the well-trimmed lawns. Sir John, Bulankulame Dissawa, M. D. Banda, and I were in the sitting room, warming ourselves by the fire when Sir John asked me, “I say, Peiris, aren’t you getting something tomorrow?” The recommendation for the honour is made by the Prime Minister, but the letter inquiring whether I would accept the honour comes from Queen’s House marked ‘Top Secret’.

I therefore replied “I know nothing about it, Sir”, and Sir John told the other Ministers “Look at this chap; I recommend him for the honour and he thinks it is a Cabinet secret and wants to hide it from me. Anyway, I’ll be at your house at 7 p.m. Don’t give lime juice.”

We took the night train back, travelling to Nanu Oya again in Police cars. It was a bit of a rush because the Mayor, Mr Vijayaratnasingham, had a cocktail party in our honour and Ranasinha and I were worried that we would miss our train. Sir John had seen to it that baskets of flowers were put into our cars. True to his word, the Pilot car preceding the Prime Minister’s car turned in at my gate sharp at seven the next evening. He had two whiskeys and was off to be in time at the next place because mine was not the only house of ‘honours’ men he visited that evening.

He was surprised when I asked him in French whether to sing him a French song. He said “Oui, oui, oui” and asked who was going to play. I sat at the piano and, with Sir John standing by me with his glass in his hand, sang a naughty song which Maurice Chevalier used to sing at the Moulin Rouge in Paris in the early thirties, and the words of which no one but Sir John understood. When I was getting to the end of the chorus, he whispered in my ear “Sing the chorus again.” The first line of the chorus was “Dites moi, ma mere, dites moi ma mere pourquoi less chiens daps les rues se months dessous”.

One of the first major questions which the Prime Minister asked his Cabinet to consider was that of bribery and corruption. He was determined, if possible, to stamp this moral stain out of public life. A new law was drafted to be in operation in the first instance for 18 months and to be applicable to public servants only. Charges were to be investigated by the Criminal Investigation Department and the tribunal hearing the charges was to consist of judges or retired judges.

Power was also taken to make the new law applicable, if necessary, to the findings of a Commission appointed to investigate allegations of bribery and corruption against a Senator or Member of Parliament, and it was agreed that any fee or reward paid or given to a Senator or Member of Parliament to appear for any person before a public officer other than a judicial or quasi-judicial officer should be deemed to be a bribe. The Bill was passed into law as Act No. II of 1954, and has been amended more than once to vest additional powers in the Bribery Commissioner.

E. B. Wikramanayake, Q. C. now joined the Cabinet as Minister of Justice. He was a man of few words and did not believe in wasting his time or anyone else’s. In the course of a discussion, he made his point in the fewest possible words.

In December 1953, the Governor-General was informed that Her Majesty the Queen intended to visit Ceylon. The Cabinet considered this communication and agreed that Her Majesty should be invited to open the next Session of Parliament. The Queens’ Speech, which I was asked to make as short as possible, was approved by the Cabinet and an advance copy sent to the Palace.

On the day of Her Majesty’s arrival in Colombo, I found five lines of traffic opposite my house on the Havelock Road moving, from two in the morning, towards the city. The streets were decorated and thronged with people, rich and poor, to welcome the Royal visitors. The weather was more than kind; it was a scorching sun, and the Queen, who rode with His Royal Highness Prince )Philip in an open car had a parasol for protection.

I watched the procession from a vantage point in the Dutch Burgher Union in Bullers Road. Persons were perched on the roofs of the houses opposite. ‘The welcome accorded to the Royal couple was rousing as well as spontaneous. The impression that I had was first, that the welcome was a natural gesture of loyalty, and secondly, that, with our own monarchical background, our people just cannot resist Royalty and the pageantry that is associated with that institution.

I wonder how many persons noticed the Constitutional aspect of the Royal visit. Her Majesty was Queen of Ceylon, and, though not domiciled here, she was temporarily resident in one of Her Dominions. As such, during Her residence here, the person she had appointed to represent Her in the Island, Lord Soulbury, officially ceased to exist. The Governor-General could not have assented to a Bill nor could he have exercised the Royal prerogative of pardon. The office of the Governor-General was, for the time being, in abeyance. That is the reason for Lord Soulbury’s absence at the Opening of Parliament. In effect, he “took himself away” and stayed in the background.

Her Majesty opened the Third Session of the Second Parliament on April 12, 1954, and read Her Speech in English in a clear voice. Naturally, she could not be asked to comply, as Sir Oliver Goonetilleke did a few years later, with the requirements of our Official Language Act. At the next Cabinet meeting Ministers Vaithianathan and Natesan referred to the fact that, at the presentation of the Addresses, the speeches had been made in English and Sinhala but not in Tamil. They stated that this had caused uneasiness among the Tamil community.

I think the two Tamil Ministers, when they used the word “uneasiness”, exercised the utmost restraint in the use of language and refrained, with great dignity, in giving vent, not only to their own feelings, but to the feelings of the entire Tamil community. To make matters worse, the Prime Minister assured the Cabinet that the omission of a Speech in Tamil was accidental and not intentional, and promised to make a public statement to that effect. Really, I ask, to whom was the Prime Minister talking? To two of the intellectual Ministers in his Cabinet; and was he talking with his tongue in his cheek? Incidents like this though quickly forgotten by the Sinhalese, remain long in the memories of the minority communities as utterly insulting and unnecessary pinpricks inflicted on purpose.

On Her birthday, April 21, Her Majesty held an Investiture at Queen’s House at which A. G. Ranasinha was knighted and I was invested with the insignia of the O.B.E. A Throne had been placed on the dais for the Queen but had to be hurriedly removed a few minutes before Her Majesty’s arrival because, in England, it is customary for the Sovereign to stand throughout an Investiture. His Royal Highness stood one foot behind the Queen throughout the ceremony and looked thoroughly bored.

Immediately after the Investiture, a group photograph was taken of Her Majesty and Her Ceylon Cabinet. The seats were all arranged. The Prime Minister would naturally sit on the Queen’s right. Sir Oliver Goonetilleke wanted to sit on Her Majesty’s left but Minister J. R. Jayewardene insisted that the setting should be according to the Order of Precedence and that he should be on the Queen’s left. By his sojourn abroad, Sir Oliver had come down in the Precedence Table and, in that historic photograph, would have had to stand in the second row if one of the Ministers had not fallen ill and his place taken by an acting Minister.

It is for this reason that Sir Oliver is seen seated, not next to the Queen, but in the last chair. Was it not Pope who said that every man has just as much vanity as he wants understanding? When this squabble about seating had been settled, the Aide-de-Camp was informed that the Ministers were ready. Her Majesty arrived and took her seat. She was so dignified that the photographer did not dare to tell Her to smile or put her left foot forward; but a beautiful photograph was the result. At the end of the ceremony, Sir John, on behalf of the Cabinet, presented Her Majesty with a silver tray as a birthday present.

It was at about this time that my daughter Kamala, to the family and friends known as ‘Binkie’, married the man of her choice, Dr Cecil D. Chelliah, a specialist in the diseases of the chest. As I said before, her Kundasale training had turned out a plain living, high thinking, sensible and efficient woman. D. S. Senanayake was right in his forecast about the girls turned out at Kundasale. The doctor had music in him, and it was music that brought the couple together. In view of this strong community of interests, which was a firmer basis for sound marriage than good looks, a sports car or a tweed suit, my wife and I readily gave our consent.

He was a Tamil and a Christian; but I had no difficulty in coming to a decision as my education had been completely free of any racial or religious bias and hypocrisy. They have two very musically-minded children, Ranjan and Priyantha, whom I prefer to call “Mr Jones” and “Mr Shaw” respectively. Grandpa has had some lovely musical evenings in his retirement with son-in-law, daughter, Jones and Shaw, showing their prowess, jointly and severally, at their different instruments.

Ministers, like women, are entitled to change their minds and their opinions, but on one thing Sir John was firm and never once wavered. He laid it down that, so long as he was in charge of administration of this country, no person would be employed in the public service who was a communist or who belonged to a revolutionary party.

A rather unusual Bill was now considered and later passed into law. The Government Parliamentary Group had passed a resolution regarding the delimitation of electoral districts for Parliamentary elections. Under the first Delimitation Commission, the number of electoral districts for the Island sent ninety-five members to the House of Representatives. Together with the six Appointed members, the total membership of the House was one hundred and one.

A new Commission had been appointed, as required by the Consti tution. Following the 1953 census, which gave the Ceylon population as 8,098,637, giving approximately every 75,000 of the popultion a seat as laid down in the Constitution, the total membership the House, including the Appointed members, would have been of 139. There had been considerable public opinion that the Constitution should be amended so as to limit the number of members.

It was suggested that the total number of sea should be about 108, and it was proposed create three of four additional special seats for Indians and Pakistanis. Sir John accordingly proposed to the Cabinet that the scheme’ adopted. If adopted, it involved an amendment to the Constitution which would require a two-thirds majority in the House of Representatives to pass it into law. The Bill which he submitted was to in force for 10 years and would enable the Government to discharge its obligations under the Indo-Ceylon pact. The proposed legisla- tion would have conferred on persons registered as Citizens of Ceylon under the Indian and Pakistani Residents (Citizenship) Act, a privilege which was not conferred on persons of other communities, namely, separate parliamentary representation for 10 years.

It would also have made persons so registered as Citizens of Ceylon, liable to a disability to which persons of other communities were not made liable, namely, the exclusion of their names for 10 years from the general parliamentary register of elections. The Bill fixed the to number of members of the House of Representatives for all time at 108. The Ceylon Constitution (Amendment) 1 was passed in 1954, limiting the membership of the House. An Act for the creation of a special Indian and Pakistani Electorate was a passed the same year. Nothing came of either of these Acts. The question whether the Acts were valid under section 29 of the Constitution is now academic as both Acts were repealed in 1959.

Soon thereafter, followed another unusual piece of legislation. E. L. Senanayake was elected Member for Kandy in the House of Rep resentatives, but was unseated on an election petition, and the Prime Minister made the following statement in the House of Representatives on February 5, 1954:

“I wish to inform the House that the Member for Kandy has been granted leave to appeal to the Privy Council from the decision of the Supreme Court of Ceylon. The following telegram has been sent by the Crown Solicitors:

“Senanayake special leave granted reserving leave to Attorney-General or respondent to challenge jurisdiction on hearing of appeal stop Board represented appeal should be heard as soon as possible stop Meanwhile most undesirable that certificate should be published or other steps taken consequent upon the declaration before appeal.”

The Government proposed to take steps to avoid unnecessary legal complications in the event of the appeal of the member for Kandy being allowed by the Privy Council. They intended to introduce legislation suspending an Order of the Supreme Court under the Ceylon (Parliamentary Election) Order in Council, pending an appeal to the Privy Council. Meanwhile, the Governor-General had been advised that he should withhold action under the Order in Council, pending the introduction of the Bill. There is no provision of law under which His Excellency is empowered to suspend the steps to be taken under the Order in Council. He was required by law to fix a date for the by-election.

Draft legislation was submitted designed to meet Senanayake’s case. The Bill proposed that where an appeal is taken to the Privy Council, the operation of an Order of the Supreme Court under the Elections Order in Council should be suspended till the decision of the Privy Council in that behalf is known. The legislation was to have retrospective effect to cover the Supreme Court judgment in the Senanayake case.

On advice, the Governor-General suspended action under the Order in Council and did not authorize the holding of a by-election. His action was to be legalized by the proposed legislation. He was to be indemnified against all civil and criminal liability ‘in respect of the noncompliance of the provisions of the Order in Council which required him to order the holding of a fresh election.

Senanayake lost his appeal in the Privy Council and continued to remain out of Parliament. This sort of ad hoc legislation to suit particular persons in most unfortunate. Retrospective legislation is particularly obnoxious and is viewed by the courts with suspicion, but the courts are bound by the laws passed by Parliament.



Features

Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka

Published

on

World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future

by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?

These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.

World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.

We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.

Making more of what we already have

Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.

Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.

The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.

Stop wasting the food we produce

Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.

Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.

Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.

Nutrition and food safety come first

Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.

Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.

Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.

A food system that can cope with climate change

Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.

Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.

Give young people a bigger role

Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.

A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.

A pathway designed for Sri Lanka

We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.

The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.

The choices we make today

The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.

So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?

The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.

A better food future begins with the choices we make today.

Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara

Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna

Continue Reading

Features

20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried

Published

on

Aftermath of the terror attack

By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan

The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.

It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.

By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.

I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.

When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.

The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.

The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.

Continue Reading

Features

‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’

Published

on

Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24

I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.

The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.

The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.

After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.

Clark

The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.

Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.

Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.

He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.

Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.

Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.

Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.

Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.

So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.

Continue Reading

Trending