Devil's Acre (3 page)

Chapter 4

SAINT GEORGE’S
AND THE DRAGON

So
now I knew the destination of this mysterious adventure we were set upon but not yet its purpose. That I presumed would be revealed as we progressed. Acre Priory I knew only by reputation never having been there myself. It is a Cluniac house, which is to say it follows the interpretation of the Rule as devised by its mother abbey of Cluny in Burgundy, a stricter and more elaborate reading than the plain Benedictine office practised at Bury. Normally I would look forward to such a visit - we monks so rarely get the opportunity to travel. If only I didn’t have this nagging apprehension of what we might find when we got there. But we were not there yet and would not be so this day if Samson’s calculation was correct. That meant we would have to break our journey and the most likely place for that I guessed would be the Norfolk borough of Thetford.

The days at this time of the year are very short and once the sun goes down the temperature drops away rapidly, so it was with relief when I saw the first signs of our goal. It was still only early afternoon yet the light was already fading fast and it was only just possible to make out the spire of the Priory of Our Lady of Thetford in the distance. That I presumed was where we were heading. The only other place that we might have gone to was the nunnery of Saint George and Saint Gregory. But that was a house for women. Of the two the priory seemed the more likely.

We stopped briefly by the cross at Barnham which marks the town’s southern limits and offered a prayer of thanksgiving for our safe deliverance before heading down the final mile towards the town. I noticed as we did so that Samson quickened his pace perhaps in anticipation of the welcome he expected from the prior and the warmth of a good log fire. But as we reached the bottom of the hill, instead of crossing over the river into the town proper Samson abruptly turned his mule’s head to the right and started in through the gates of the nunnery.

‘Are we not going to the priory, father?’

‘No. We will be staying
with the Sisters of Saint George tonight. Odell, the prioress, is expecting us.’ He saw the surprised expression on my face and explained: ‘Saint George’s is a daughter house of the abbey. It would make more sense for us to go there than to the priory.’

‘Won’t the prior be offended if we ignore him?’

‘We won’t ignore him. We will pay a courtesy call tomorrow before we leave.’

I bowed. ‘Your wisdom in this as in all things, father.’

In truth I was quite pleased to be going to the nunnery. I had never been to Saint George’s before but I knew its history. Originally a male foundation of canons it was never big enough to be successful. Due to extreme poverty the canons were soon forced to withdraw and were replaced by Benedictine nuns who still occupy the site. These, too, were too few in number to maintain themselves adequately and have to be supported by weekly supplies from our cellars at Bury. So I suppose it made sense, as the abbot said, for us to go to the nunnery rather than the Cluniacs since we would be consuming our own produce.

In point of fact I very nearly did come here once in rather less happy circumstances. This was during the trouble over the supposed boy-martyr, Matthew the miller’s son about which I have written elsewhere. I say “
very nearly” came, I was actually on my way with a cartload of weekly provisions when I was attacked and nearly killed on the road by my old enemy, Geoffrey de Saye of hateful memory. That time I didn’t make it to Thetford having had to return to Bury to prosecute my case against the said fiend Geoffrey. It is an omission I have always regretted. And if I am honest I will admit to another reason for preferring the convent over the priory. Nuns tend to fuss over one rather more than monks do. A little bit of feminine pampering would make a pleasant change - in the most chaste of senses of course.

We dismounted just inside the gates and handed our mounts over to the gatekeeper just as three of the sisters, their habits billowing behind them, descended upon us like a trio of agitated magpies. They all dropped to their knees before Samson begging for his blessing which he gave freely offering each in turn his hand.

‘Sister
s Benjamin, Agnes and Monica-Jerome,’ he beamed. ‘Raise yourselves up please, the ground is sodden. You know Master Walter of Ixworth our brother physician?’

Smiling
broadly, each of them cupped my hand as though it were their most treasured possession.

‘Sister Benjamin is guest-master here,’ Samson explained indicating the only fully-professed of the three, a handsome if severe-looking woman in her middling years of life.

‘Father Abbot,’ frowned Benjamin with concern. ‘God be praised you have arrived at last! We feared the worst when the weather closed in. The prioress sends her apologies for not being here in person but will greet you properly at supper.’

‘No doubt she will be at vespers,’ nodded Samson, and indeed the fluting of female voices could be heard coming from the direction of the priory church.

‘Come,’ said Sister Benjamin. ‘Let us get you inside. You must be tired after your journey. I hope you won’t mind Father Abbot but we have put you in the chamberlain’s lodge. Master Walter, you will be in the guest wing. I hope this meets with your approval.’

‘I’m sure whatever you have decided will be fine,’ Samson
answered for both of us.

Despite our protestations, the two novices insisted on heaving our heavy bags over their shoulders and then staggered off under the weight into the night. Samson and Sister Benjamin followed Sister Agnes in one direction while Sister Monica-Jerome led me in another.

The room she showed me into was small and sparsely-furnished but perfectly adequate for my needs. It contained a bed, a prie-dieu and a dresser with a ewer upon it already filled with steaming hot water - a luxury in itself. Also some towels, a little vase of flowers from heaven knew where, a large crucifix over the bed and a small brass hand-bell. The room was lit by several candles and warmed by a brazier that must have been alight for most of the afternoon - a degree of comfort unknown in the abbey where usually only one room is provided with a fire and that only on extremely cold days. Yes, I thought, I am going to enjoy this.

Having deposited my bag on the bed Monica-Jerome smiled up at me revealing a set of comically protruding front teeth
at which I tried not to smile. Despite this imperfection she had a lovely smile, warm, friendly and welcoming.

‘Supper will be served shortly in the refectory, brother,’ she lisped.

‘That’s very kind of you, sister.’

She
blushed and beamed back at me as though I had just paid her the greatest compliment. I smiled, amused.

‘Have you been here long, sister?’

‘Since I was a girl.’

‘Not very long at all then
,’ I flattered her. She giggled behind her hand. ‘Are there many of you here?’

‘Ten at present including us four novices.
’

‘So few? But
Saint George’s is legendry, especially your work with the poor. There is also a school I believe. Which is your area of expertise, I wonder? Now don’t tell me. I’m guessing the school.’

Her face lit up at that. ‘We all do a little of everything. But you are right, I do like to teach. Yes, I think I can say I enjoy that the most, although I’m not very good.’

‘I’m sure you are an excellent teacher
.’

Monica-Jerome
blushed again.

‘Thank you, sister. I’ll take over now.’

I looked up to see Sister Benjamin standing in the doorway. Neither of us had noticed her arrive but Sister Monica-Jerome instantly jettisoned her smile, bobbed obediently and darted for the door.

‘Er, thank you sister,’ I called after her. She turned and managed one last smile before disappearing.

Sister Benjamin now stood with her toes upon the very threshold, her hands locked securely beneath her scapular. She looked round the room like a general surveying a battlefield. ‘You have everything you need, brother.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

‘I’m sure all is perfection
, thank you sister.’

She nodded.
‘If you have any further requirements please do not hesitate to ring that bell.’ She pointed to the hand-bell on the dresser. ‘I heard Monica-Jerome telling you about supper. Sister Ellen will beat the board in the courtyard when it is ready. The refectory is out this door, across the courtyard and to your left.’ She indicated the direction with the flat of her hand. ‘You can’t miss it.’

‘Sister Ellen
, courtyard, refectory - got it,’ I smiled.

She nodded
curtly and started to withdraw.

‘Erm,
forgive my asking, sister,’ I added hastily, ‘but did I hear Father Abbot correctly, that you are the guest-
master
here?’

She returned to the threshold. ‘We make no allowance for our sex
here at Saint George’s, brother. We nuns fulfil most functions ourselves.’

‘And clearly
very well,’ I said giving her my most obsequious smile.

A twitch of satisfaction puckered her lip. ‘We do our best to make use of God’s gifts
, brother. And you, I take it, are the abbey’s physician?’

‘For my sins.’

She nodded. ‘A noble calling. It is a pity you will not be here longer than one night. I should very much welcome the opportunity to compare notes. Among my other duties I am also in charge of the dispensary.’

‘You are medically trained too?’
I beamed.             

‘Not
trained
exactly, but one picks things up as one goes along. One
acquires
expertise.’

‘And most thoroughly I’m sure,’ I smiled.

Benjamin grunted. Having established her credentials, she came the closest yet to a smile. ‘Well, if there is nothing else, I’ll bid you good evening brother.’ She started again to retreat.

‘I say, these are excellent,’ I said darting over to the flowers on the dresser. ‘Where on earth did you manage to find cornflowers in January? It is surely a miracle.’

‘Lace,’ Benjamin sniffed. ‘They’re not genuine. The work of Sister Angelina.’

‘But extraordinary quality, quite extraordinary. Please give Sister Angelina my compliments. She has a real talent.’

‘God-given like all talents, brother. But I will tell her.’

‘In fact the entire room is most charming,’ I continued. ‘It must have taken you most of the day to prepare.’

‘Most of the -?’ Benjamin very nearly overstepped the threshold. ‘Brother, it has taken the best part of a week to prepare for Father Abbot’s visit. Not that I’m complaining,’ she added quickly, ‘we see him so rarely, such a busy man doing God’s good work.’

‘I’m sure father abbot is most appreciative, sister. I will make it my business to let him know exactly whom he has to thank.’

She grunted with satisfaction. ‘I’ll leave you then. Don’t forget to listen for that supper board.’

‘I’ll try not to, sister - and thank you.’

Well, that settled one question. If Sister Benjamin knew of Samson’s visit for a week then it must have been arranged some time before that, well before that letter from the king. Nothing about this trip was as spontaneous as it seemed.

Chapter 5

RALF

Despite
Sister Benjamin’s very clear and precise instructions I still managed to miss hearing the clatter-board when it sounded and had to run to the refectory slipping on the icy gravel as I went. To make matters worse I got completely lost in the maze of buildings and contrived to enter the hall - breathless and dishevelled - through the wrong door and had to squeeze past the nuns seated at their trestle-tables to get to the front. To their credit the good sisters took my buffoonery in good part - indeed, they seemed to find the whole business rather entertaining not least Sister Monica-Jerome who hid her giggles along with her teeth behind her hand.

Abbot Samson, alas, was not so easily amused and he glowered at me from the
high-table where he was sitting beside a rather grand-looking nun whom I took to be the prioress.

‘Sorry father,’ I muttered as I mounted the dais.

‘It’s not me you should be apologizing to,’ he growled indicating the prioress.

‘Do not alarm yourself, brother,’ the lady smiled kindly. ‘I doubt if my girls have had this much excitement in years. This isn’t stuffy Edmundsbury you know. No ceremony here. Come, sit beside me out of the abbot’s
glare,’ and she patted the bench next to her.

I was warming to the lady already. She evidently wasn’t intimidated by the presence of so great a man as the Abbot of Bury. But I was forgetting, they must know each other very well. Certainly few others could
have gotten away with that degree of familiarity. And as for referring to the nuns as “my girls” - how could anyone not smile at that?

Introductions
such as they were over, we settled down to await the arrival of the food. And what a feast it promised to be. There was fish and game and pies and eggs in a spiced sauce, chicken roasted in honey, fruit and all manner of confections all borne aloft by an army of servants. To a monk used to one plain meal a day it was all rather overwhelming. If this was how Samson ate when away from the abbey I could quite see how he acquired his wide girth. But I couldn’t help thinking that all this preparation suggested yet again that this was no casual last-minute arrangement.

My reverie was interrupted by the arrival of a third guest, an elderly priest by the look of his garb and evidently blind since he was being led in by a middle-aged servant woman. He took a minute to find his place at the end of the table aided by this servant who fussed over him with fingerbowls and towels and napkins, much to his
evident irritation. When at last he was settled and she had left him alone he sat silently staring into the distance in that disconcerting way the blind have of looking without actually seeing. I turned to our hostess expecting an introduction or at least an acknowledgement of the man’s presence but Mother Odell was too engrossed in conversation with the abbot seeming to have noticed the new guest. Who was he, I wondered? The nuns’ confessor perhaps? His being blind I thought it incumbent upon me to make the first approach. I leaned across.

‘Good evening
, father. May I introduce myself. I’m -’

‘Brother Walter of Ixworth,’ the man beamed.
He held out his hand for me to take. ‘Father Ralf. I’m the chaplain here.’

T
he hand felt cold and limp like a dead fish. ‘How, erm, did you know?’

‘Your name?’ He smiled. ‘
Saint George’s is a small community. We don’t get many visitors. Your arrival has been the main topic of gossip among the nuns for a week.’

‘You’ve known of our arrival for a week?’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘Well, yes I am - a little.’

The woman servant now returned and began describing the various dishes to the priest and where they were located on the table.

Father Ralf frowned irritably. ‘Yes yes, that’s fine Jane. Don’t fuss.’

‘You’ll be complaining in a minute when you can’t find anything.’

‘Well if I
can’t Brother Walter here will help me - won’t you brother?’

‘Yes of course I will.’ I smiled at the woman. She frowned crossly back at me and bustled off again.

‘You’ll have to forgive Jane,’ Ralf apologized. ‘She’s very protective. I’m lucky to have her. At least she doesn’t shout at me.’

‘Why would anyone shout at you?’

‘People do. They assume because I have lost one sense I must have lost them all. In fact my other senses are better than most since I have fewer distractions. I hear the mice scratching in the walls. I know that this dish to my left is fish, and this one to the right is spiced apple, and this -’

‘Oops!’ I said just saving a water jug that he nearly knocked over in his enthusiasm.

‘Ah well,’ he smiled. ‘Perhaps not everything.’

‘You can be forgiven for not smelling water, father
.’

Beside me the prioress was clearing her throat and tapping the bench with her fingers. When she had silence in the room she said in a loud voice:

‘Father Abbot, would you be so kind?’

Samson rose grandly to his feet and solemnly intoned the Grace:

‘Benedic, Domine, nos et dona tua, quae de largitate tua sumus sumpturi, et concede, ut illis salubriter nutriti tibi debitum obsequium praestare valeamus, per Christum Dominum nostrum.
’

To which we all joined in the final
Amen
.

That done, we settled down
again to begin the meal in earnest. And I must say I was looking forward to this. I was even starting to be grateful that it was me Samson had chosen to accompany him on this trip after all. The sights and smells of the spread before us were enticing. Unfortunately I was to partake of none of it for it was then that the disaster happened. I was just reaching for a plate of sliced ham when beside me there came a crash and I turned to see that Father Ralf had knocked over that water jug again, only this time I was not there to save it and it had gone crashing to the floor where it smashed into pieces and sent water cascading everywhere. In itself this was no great matter - accidents will happen. And Ralf’s ever-attentive servant Jane was already mopping up the mess and clearing it away. What stopped us both was Samson’s reaction. He seemed to explode with anger.

‘You damn fool!’ he bellowed down the length of the table at the priest. ‘Now look what you’ve done!’

The room instantly fell silent. I looked around at the startled faces staring up at us and wondered for a moment if perhaps I had stumbled into some kind of entertainment. Was it a joke? Was I supposed to laugh?

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ mumbled Ralf barely audibly. ‘It was clumsy of me.’

‘Clumsy?’ Samson bellowed. ‘Clumsy you say? You’re not fit for decent company!’

My jaw dropped open.
Whatever was the matter with him? It was a water jug, for heaven’s sake, nothing particularly valuable and easily replaced. Samson’s words seemed out of proportion to the crime - if “crime” was the right word. I had never seen him so angry over something so trivial. I turned to Mother Odell willing her to intercede on the priest’s behalf as she had on mine earlier but this time she seemed reluctant to do so and remained silent with her eyes cast down.

The eyes of Ralf’s servant Jane were
, however, anything but cast down. They burned with indignation. She glared first at Samson, then at Odell, then all around the rest of the room. Finally she crashed the shard of pot she had been holding hard onto the table and stormed out of the hall.

Her departure was at least something of a catharsis. Fortunately the excellent Sister Benjamin was on hand to take command of the situation. She clapped her hands together and servants appeared from nowhere to quickly mop up the remainder of the mess and to bring some order back into the proceedings. Samson had sat down and was already talking animatedly to the prioress as though nothing had happened.

I was astonished. I shook myself wondering if the accident had really happened or perhaps I had just dreamt it. My natural inclination was to speak to Ralf now to offer some words of reassurance, but I didn’t really know what to say. I was, as it were, already in the enemy camp. Not that I felt that way. My sympathies were entirely with him. I was furious with Samson for embarrassing us both over such a trifling matter. But there was nothing I could do except sit out my discomfort in silence with Ralf inches from me.

A
fter a few moments he rose quietly from his seat and started to make his way to the door tapping his staff before him as he went. By now I too had lost my appetite so after another moment or two I got up and followed him out.

I found him sitting alone on the porch bench gazing out into the freezing blackness of the night. At my approach he turned to me smiling.

‘Well brother, did you enjoy your meal?’

‘I er...no, I can’t say I did.’

He shook his head. ‘Me neither. For me it was the oysters.’

‘The oysters?’

‘Do you not find they are an acquired taste? I like them but they do not always like me. These tonight I thought
tasted a little metallic.’

I was incredulous. The man
talks about oysters after what had just occurred?

‘No Father, I didn’t have any oysters. I didn’t have anything to eat as a matter of fact.’

‘That’s a pity. The nuns put on a good spread for guests.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Father, I’ve come to apologize.’

He smiled vaguely in my direction. ‘For what?’

‘For the abbot’s behaviour tonight. It was
unforgivable.’

‘
Why should you apologize? It was not of your doing.’

‘No,’ I agreed, ‘but Abbot Samson is
my superior.’

‘Please brother
. Put it out of your mind.’

I
must say I was impressed by the man’s stoicism. I’m sure if I had been treated so abominably I should have been spitting fury. But he seemed to have survived the encounter all right.

‘I admire your
capacity for forgiveness, father. It does you credit. But, if you are certain you are not harmed...?’

‘Quite sure
. And thank you for your concern.’

I shrugged. ‘Very well.’

I can’t say I was sorry to drop the subject. Perhaps he was right and it would all blow over as quickly as it arose, although I fully intended tackling Samson about it later and let him know exactly what I thought of what had happened. But if Ralf wished to forget the matter, so be it. I looked out into the icy darkness with the frosted snow glistening in the moonlight and shivered.

‘Are you waiting for your servant to fetch you home
, father?’

He shook his head. ‘I
shan’t see Jane again tonight. She’ll be off sulking somewhere - in the church I imagine.’

She did seem upset
- more so than Ralf. ‘Then would you allow me to take you?’

‘That’s very kind
of you, but there is no need. My feet know their own way home without direction - one more compensation for the loss of my eyes. I am just sitting here for a few moments to catch my breath before venturing out.’

‘
Please,’ I said rising. ‘It is the least I can do.’

He shrugged. ‘
Very well. If it will make you feel better.’

I gave him my arm but he
staggered a little as he stood up. Perhaps the water jug incident had affected him more than he was admitting.

‘Have you long had this trouble with your breathing, father?’

‘It’s nothing. The air is raw. It will pass.’

W
e waited for a moment and when he was ready we started walking, but slowly.

‘Tell me brother,
are there many stars out tonight?’

I looked up
at the sky. ‘Indeed. There must be a hundred thousand up there.’

He chuckled. ‘As many as that?’

‘You think there are less?’

‘I think there are many more. I
myself once counted half a million before I had to give up - when I still had my eyes, of course.’

‘Have
you not always been blind then, father?’