Whited Sepulchres (4 page)

Edwin’s thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a large trencher of pottage and a cup of ale. He drew out his spoon and attacked it with gusto as he pondered the best method of staying out of Hamo’s way during the afternoon. Perhaps he would slip away quietly and go to survey the crops in his parts of the fields, as he hadn’t done that for a few days. Despite the fact that he was now to be awarded a substantial wage – about twice what he’d earned while standing in for his father as bailiff, an amount which in itself had been twice what a labourer would be given – as a reward for his position in the earl’s household, the winter would still be bleak for him and his mother if he didn’t manage to get his crops harvested properly in a few weeks’ time, and he couldn’t just leave it all to the man he’d hired to take his place in the fields.

The men at the lower tables finished their simple fare and got up to go back to work, leaving those at the high end of the hall to continue their meal, more courses of which were still arriving. Edwin gulped the last of his ale and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as he filed out into the bright sunshine. He took a surreptitious glance around him to ensure that Hamo wasn’t watching – hopefully he’d still be inside supervising – and hurried off towards the gate. There he almost ran into Hamo himself, but fortunately the marshal was busy overseeing the unloading of some barrels from a cart. One of the barrels, a smallish one, slipped as the men manoeuvred it off the tailgate, and Hamo shrieked in alarm.

‘Be careful, for God’s sake! That’s the special hippocras for the wedding, to be drunk only by the bride and groom. We can’t get any more of it in time, and it’s worth more than you – I’ll see you flogged if anything happens to it!’

Edwin watched as the chastened men lifted the barrel very, very slowly and carried it with aching care towards the kitchen.

Hamo was outraged again. ‘No, not that way! Put it in my office behind the hall. Then I can keep my eye on it to make sure none of those thieving kitchen hands get near it.’

The men changed direction and Edwin was able to slip past behind Hamo, unnoticed. He hurried out of the inner gate.
My office
, thought Edwin, he’s already considering it his own. This didn’t bode well for William, and Edwin made up his mind to seek his uncle out later to check on his recovery. But first, the fields.

After about a mile and a half he was almost regretting his decision. Of course the idea of going to look at the strips which were furthest away from the village had been to stay as far away from Hamo as possible, but the disadvantage was that it was a long walk under the hot sun. He could feel the heat beating down on the back of his neck as he plodded up a hill, and his rather pale face would no doubt soon be burned. His head was boiling under its woollen cap, so he took it off, but then the burning sensation on his scalp got too bad, so he used it to wipe the sweat from his brow and then put it back on again. His headache wasn’t improving.

As he reached the top of the hill he had a fine view of the countryside all around. It was about another mile to the furthest fields, but he could see them from here: long strips with the golden grain baking in the sunshine, people moving to and fro among them as they pulled out the weeds which could choke the precious crop. He could see another figure on the road making its way towards him; squinting in the bright light, he thought it was a monk. Yes, it was, walking by the side of a horse – no, too small for that, a mule. Most monks in the land wore the black of the Benedictine order, but this one was in a white robe, meaning that he was a Cistercian, probably from the local abbey at Roche. Whoever he was, he was setting a good pace and their paths would soon cross. Between here and there the road dipped again and went through a thickly wooded area, and as he saw the monk enter it on the far side, Edwin thought that it might be a good place to dawdle and enjoy the shade for a few moments. He would probably meet him there and would have an excuse to stop and pass the time of day.

But wait, what was that? As he looked at the near side of the woods he became aware of movement which didn’t seem natural. Several men were crouched in the undergrowth – one of them had just stood up and that was what Edwin had noticed. They hadn’t seen him, but were looking the other way, towards the monk and his laden mule. Dear Lord. Robbers, and within a couple of miles of the castle itself! This was unheard of: he would have to tell Sir Geoffrey about it when he got back, but right now there was no time – he had to warn the monk. He drew his dagger and started to run.

He gathered speed as he went down the hill, but he wasn’t going to get there. He still had a good quarter of a mile to go. As he pounded along the road he shouted as loud as he could, making himself hoarse as the dust flew up and caught in his throat, and waved his arms to try and alert the monk’s attention. The robbers broke their cover as they heard him, and came into the road – three of them. They looked round, but saw how far away he was and turned towards the monk anyway. He had seen them now and had stopped, his mule shying in fright as armed men ran towards it. He had the presence of mind to throw the rein into a thick bush so that it caught there before he turned to face the oncoming attackers. Edwin could see the whole picture laid out in front of him, but he was never going to get there. A man of God! How could they? His chest felt as though it was going to burst, but he tried to increase his speed, pumping his arms and sucking in huge breaths. It was no good. The men reached the defenceless monk.

And then something so extraordinary happened that Edwin wasn’t quite sure whether he’d seen it correctly. Maybe it was the effect of the sun, the dust and the midges clouding his eyes, or the headache, but as he watched, the monk reached round to the back of the mule, which was shying in fright but unable to pull its rein away from where it was entangled, and yanked. For one bizarre and dizzy moment Edwin could have sworn that he’d pulled its leg off. He skidded to a halt, gasping, and shook his head. As his vision cleared he could see that what the monk had in his hand was in fact a stout cudgel, two or three feet long. Well, thank the Lord he wasn’t seeing things, but really, a lump of wood wouldn’t be much use against three armed men – he had to get there and help. He gulped a huge breath and started to jog forward again. But as the monk stood to receive the assault, he swung the stick expertly in his right hand and stepped into the attack.

The first man, slashing a dagger wildly, went down with a crack to the head before he’d even got close. Then the monk took on the other two together, twirling the cudgel at such speed that Edwin could hardly see it, although he heard the thump as it connected with something, followed by a scream. The second man was staggering back with blood streaming from his face as the third, armed with a sword, tried to lunge forward. The monk feinted to one side and then brought his weapon down precisely on the man’s elbow. He shrieked in pain and dropped the sword, clutching at his injured arm. The monk watched him calmly, still swinging the cudgel, and took a single step forward. The man fled, followed by the one with the bleeding face, and they both disappeared into the undergrowth. The entire encounter had taken less time than it would take Edwin to say a paternoster.

Edwin slowed as he finally reached the scene. The monk turned to him and he suddenly realised that he might look like another attacker, so he flung his hands into the air and stopped, gasping that he’d been on his way to help. The monk smiled. ‘
Benedicte
, my son. I know you were, and you have my thanks for warning me.’ His voice was calm – he wasn’t even out of breath! As Edwin stood puffing and blowing with his hands on his knees, the monk flicked the massive cudgel nonchalantly up and looked with no trace of concern at the blood and hair stuck to it. He walked over to the first attacker, who was still lying prone in the road, and poked him with one sandalled foot. ‘Not dead, but it will take him a while to wake up.’ He used the unconscious man’s tunic to wipe the blood from the cudgel before returning to stow it in the mule’s pack. He stroked the animal, which was still looking wild-eyed, and spoke soothingly to it.

How could he be so calm? Edwin’s own heart was still thumping hard inside him, as much from the shock as from the running. ‘But how – why – what I mean is, how did you do that?’

‘I wasn’t always a monk.’

Edwin looked at him properly and noticed for the first time how tall and powerful he was; if it hadn’t been for the obvious signs of robe and tonsure Edwin would never have placed him as a member of the clergy. He opened his mouth to question further, but before he could say anything the other held out his hand. ‘Brother William, late of the abbey at Roche, but now sent by Abbot Reginald to be a clerk to the lord earl.’

Edwin shook his hand, wincing as his own was crushed in a powerful grip, and belatedly remembered his manners. ‘
Benedicte
, brother. I’m from the earl’s household myself.’ Lord, but it still sounded strange to say that out loud.

The monk was looking him up and down with a quizzical expression. ‘Not one of his squires, I take it?’

‘No, brother, just a – ’ He wasn’t sure what the right word would be. ‘I’m just a man who serves him.’

‘And yet you were running to take on three armed men with only a dagger? I hope you know how to use it!’

For the first time Edwin realised what an unbelievably foolhardy thing he’d done. Honestly, how could he have thought of fighting against three men? But he hadn’t even considered this as he’d run to help. He could feel his face growing redder. ‘Well, I’ve had one or two lessons.’ He fumbled as he sheathed the dagger, his fingers suddenly not wanting to work properly.

There was a moment of silence before Brother William clapped him on the back. ‘You’re a brave lad, and if I have the opportunity I’ll tell the lord earl so. Now, can you tell me whether I’m on the right road for my lord’s castle at Conisbrough?’

‘Yes, just head this way past the fields and through the village. The road will take you straight there.’

‘Good.’ Brother William turned to go.

‘But what about him?’ Edwin asked, pointing at the man on the ground.’

Brother William looked at the man and sniffed. ‘Well, I certainly don’t want to carry him, and I’ve nothing to tie him up with. We’ll just have to leave him here and hope he doesn’t wake up before someone can come and get him.’

‘But I should come back with you, to report this to Sir Geoffrey. And there might be others around.’

The monk considered. ‘No, I’d guess they were on their own, so there’s no need to fear. If there were more near here, we’d know about it by now. But don’t worry, I’ll report it as soon as I get there, so you can be on your way.’ He turned again.

As he was about to speak, Edwin heard the sound of voices and he stiffened, hand reaching for his dagger. But these sounded familiar, and as he looked up the road he could see four other men from the village. They were all carrying tools and were probably on their way from one set of fields to another. They called out a greeting as they saw Edwin. He told them briefly of what had happened and they all expressed surprise and some fear at there being outlaws so close to the castle. But work in the fields couldn’t stop, so it was agreed that they would all walk there together, while Brother William continued his journey to the castle. They set off, tools grasped tightly, peering about them in case of further danger. Edwin went with them, but kept twisting round to look back at the extraordinary monk, until he and his mule had disappeared from sight.

Joanna stood in the great chamber and looked around with some satisfaction. The large room had been cleaned more thoroughly than it had been in ten years, the hanging tapestries taken out and beaten, the floor scrubbed and strewn with fresh rushes and herbs, the walls washed and the sconces cleaned of their old wax and filled with fresh new candles. The bedchamber which was partitioned off at the end of the room had received similar treatment and was adorned with an extravagant new coverlet for the bed, one of the fine gifts which the earl had given his sister. Joanna was just watching a serving man lay a fire in the hearth – not that they needed it now, for certain, but it might be wanted later if the evening became cool – and then everything would be ready. And thank the Lord for that, for she was exhausted. She made a small adjustment to one of the new chairs and then, checking to see that the man had left the room and that she was alone, she sat down on it. How comfortable it was! She wasn’t used to sitting on a chair which had a back, and the support it offered was wonderful, the soft cushion plump and yielding.

She was just about to sink back into it when the Lady Isabelle swept into the room. Joanna leapt up, her face becoming hot, expecting a rebuke. But Isabelle had softened in the last few weeks, and she merely seated herself, adjusted her gown, looked around, and said ‘Very nice.’

Hardly able to believe her good fortune, Joanna hastened to fetch a footstool and arrange it to Isabelle’s satisfaction. Once her mistress had made herself comfortable, she explained that everything had been made ready here, but that the guest chambers still needed their final preparations. ‘But that can wait until later, my lady, as your sisters will not arrive until tom – ’