I was pleased to be seen once again as different from the horde of black-gowned youths and men who swarm Oxford’s streets. Benedict thought such a desire sinful, so his rule prescribed a uniform habit for monks of his house. I did not feel impious as I drew my fur coat over my shoulders. I felt warm. Perhaps the sainted monk might have thought that sinful also. But Master John’s gown had proven useful. When I donned the garment I did not know it might assist my purpose. Perhaps God knew. Had I not been tossed into Oxford Castle’s malodorous gaol, I would have felt no need to scrub the stink from my clothes. There would have been no reason to approach Henry Carter’s wife in the guise of a scholar-monk. Then surely I would have left the woman without the knowledge of a monk of Eynsham and his hire. Did God then set Simon Trillowe against me, so that from his evil intent, was I shrewd enough to see how, good might come? I must ask this of Master John - does God send evil so that it might be turned to good, or does He but permit evil, and allow us to use it for good, have we the stomach and wit to do so?
