Miserabile corpus

After the death of Theodorus – accidental, as the abbot said, but who can tell? – there were many tears. For Theodorus had been a pious monk and a friend to all. However, fear spread throughout the monastery and the surrounding countryside. For many days the monks were fearful and silent.

In the school Stephen is now saying a few words about the death of Theodorus to his students. Afterwards the sad master reads from the Vulgate: “However, I say this, brothers, since flesh and blood are not able to occupy the kingdom of God...”

Paul watches through the window and comtemplates the death of Theodorus. Who had wanted to kill him? He had been a friend to everyone, a pious and humble man. There was a rumour. The Danes? Surely the Danes did not murder Theodorus? The Danes had not been seen in the region now for twenty years.

    “...Where, death, is your victory? Where, death, is your sting?” Stephen hears a bell ringing through the monastery and he stops reading. “Now we will bury the body of Theodorus,” he says, “and you boys will work without me for one hour and will finish your tasks.” And he leaves the library, tears pouring down his cheeks.
 

Hic iacet Theodorus

“Poor Theodorus,” says Paul as he watches the funeral of Theodorus through the window. It is raining; the monks are carrying Theodorus’ wretched body from the church, and the abbot is leading the scant procession.

The students leave their books and watch the procession through the window. 
    “Look, they will bury Theodorus under the tree where he used to tell us stories,” says one.
    “Why are all the monks not there? Why are they burying him so quickly?” asked another. 
    “Who killed Theodorus?” asked a third. 
    “Who knows?” answered Paul. 
    “When will we know?” asked Augustine.
    “The abbot saw him on the previous night,” said Paul. “Perhaps he will tell Stephen.”
    “The sun can fall and rise. For us once our brief light is out, there is one unending night of sleep,” murmurs Augustine, reciting from his little book of Catullus.
    “Poor Theodorus,” says Paul. “Look, now they are lowering the body into the ground.” Now someone begins to weep.

Soon the abbot and the monks return to the church, except Stephen, who is praying near the grave; it is still raining. Soon they hear Stephen’s voice, repeatedly groaning.