human
Ah! I thought my memory played me not false, returned the Abbot.
gpt
But of that enough! I knew it! And, for an archer, thou art certainly apt in speech. Canst read?
human
Yea, Father.
gpt
And write?
human
Yea, Father. Many a time have I acted as scrivener to Sir John Hacket, the Constable of the Castle of Portchester.
gpt
And there is another small matter of which I would speak,
human
When we are gone to the wars, quoth the archer,
gpt
Think not to turn this holy place into a house of merchandise, my son!
human
Nay, Father, not merchandise, but treasure.
gpt
Treasure? interrupted the Abbot, his interest kindling.
human
How say you?
gpt
Ay, a trifle saved from the wreck of my past, together with a little I have amassed during some twenty years of wandering. Of a surety I would offer the Abbey a good percentum for the care thereof, together with the right to retain all profits from its use.
human
My son, thou art generous to Holy Mother Church.
gpt
Nay, but I go farther. Should aught amiss happen to Raymond or me, the whole of my worldly goods I leave to the Abbey, without condition.
human
Then, my son, I accept, in the name of the Order, the charge confided to us. I will see to it this instant that Brother Aloysius, our scribe, will draft the agreement thereunto.