The Tainted Coin (16 page)

This newcomer and the priest exchanged a few muttered words, then the fellow walked off toward the tower. A few moments later I heard the church bell ring for the noon Angelus. The new man was the priest’s clerk.

I called out to the priest when the bell was silent. I needed a pallet for Osbert, and wine, to cleanse his wounds and my own. The clerk could come and go freely and could bring these things. And another scheme was forming in my mind. I had no wish to stay forty days in All Saints’ Church, my whereabouts unknown to any who could help to extricate me and Arthur from this confinement.

The priest, I learned, was Father Maurice. He listened while I told him of our needs, and agreed to send his clerk for the items. I asked for three pallets, if they could be had, wine, and a pouch of whatever herbs he might possess. The priest had lettuce seed and a vial of the juice of St. James’s Wort. The pounded lettuce seed, in a cup of ale, would help Osbert sleep, and the juice of St. James’s Wort would, along with the wine, prevent his stripes from festering.

Next I asked for a thing which caused the priest to raise his eyebrows. I requested a length of sturdy rope as long as the church tower was high. This tower was not so tall as might have been in a larger village.

The clerk was sent on his way with instructions to return with the needed items, and also loaves and ale. Father Maurice announced that he would remain, as he did not trust Sir Philip to respect the sanctity of his church was he away.

’Twas near the ninth hour when the clerk, accompanied by a young assistant, returned. He brought three straw-filled pallets, three blankets, the pounded lettuce seeds and the vial of the juice of St. James’s Wort, a ewer of wine, another of ale, three loaves, and a roasted capon. His delay, he said, was due to trouble finding a rope. This he had failed to locate.

I was so weak and sore from my own wound that I was not able to help myself or Osbert. I instructed the priest to bathe Osbert’s lacerated back with wine, then coat the area with the juice of St. James’s Wort and wrap him in a blanket, and with Arthur’s help lay him upon the thickest pallet. Osbert cried out as the wine touched his wounds, but I urged Father Maurice to pay no heed and continue the work. When he was done Arthur offered bread to Osbert, but he would have none. Arthur did manage to raise Osbert so that he could take some ale into which Father Maurice had poured a good measure of pounded lettuce seeds. Osbert moaned when Arthur and the priest placed him face-down upon the pallet, and was then silent.

I asked Arthur’s aid in removing my cotehardie and kirtle, for my left shoulder was stiffened and to move my left arm caused much pain. I was no more hungry than Osbert, but knew I would heal best if I ate, so after Father Maurice had bathed my wounds with the remaining wine I ate some bread and a bit of the capon. Some of the pounded lettuce seed remained, so I asked the priest to pour it into a cup of ale and drank the mixture down.

Arthur helped me to wrap myself in another of the blankets and I lay, aching and exhausted, bleeding upon a pallet. My plan to escape All Saints’ Church depended upon a length of sturdy rope, and I had none.

While I lay wrapped in the blanket the clerk rang the evening Angelus Bell, and I was yet alert enough that the bell rope suddenly dangled in my clouded thoughts.

I called Arthur and Father Maurice to me and explained my plan. Someone must travel to Bampton and tell Lord Gilbert of my plight. If the priest or his clerk attempted to leave Marcham I feared Sir Philip might find them upon the way and stop them. I wished no more men to suffer on my behalf.

Arthur is not so tall as me, but weighs nearly fourteen stone. A rope which can support his bulk must be well made. No frail cord would do. I asked Father Maurice about his bell rope.

“Nearly new,” he replied. “Got it last year from a rope-maker in Oxford.”

“If it was loosed from the bell, and fastened from the top of the tower, would it bear Arthur, you think?”

The priest cast an apprehensive eye at Arthur, measuring his bulk. His frown gradually faded, a smile replacing it.

“Ah, I see. Aye, I believe it would.”

“Sir Philip will have men placed at the doors,” I said, “but ’tis near dark, and I think he will pay no attention to the tower.”

“You want me to escape by rope down the tower?” Arthur asked.

“Aye. Get to Bampton as quickly as you can. Tell Lord Gilbert where I am, and why, and ask if he will send Lady Petronilla’s wagon to take me and Osbert to Bampton. Sir Philip must be driven off, so a half-dozen or more grooms should accompany the wagon.”

“An’ what am I to tell Kate?”

“That I am wounded, but ’tis not grievous.”

I did not wish for Kate to suffer unnecessary worry, and, indeed, I did not believe my wound so perilous as when I first looked down and saw an arrowhead protruding from under my arm. I had coughed up no blood, so was convinced that the shaft had missed my lung.

There was yet part of a loaf remaining from the meal the clerk had brought. I told Arthur to eat it, so as to maintain his strength for the night’s journey. It was dark when he finished the loaf, licked his fingers and said, “I’m off, then.”

Father Maurice had lit a candle, and in its dim light I saw Arthur and the clerk disappear into the dark in the direction of the tower. As he set off I warned Arthur to be careful in untying the rope. It would not do to have the bell sound.

Much time passed before the clerk returned, so that I worried that some misfortune had befallen Arthur. But eventually the man appeared from the dark at the base of the tower and announced softly that Arthur had gone safely over the top of the tower, and the bell rope was now again fixed to the bell frame.

Father Maurice sent the clerk and his young companion to the vicarage, then informed me that he would spend the night in the church.

“If Sir Philip sees me leave, he’ll find some excuse to enter and carry you off. If I protest to the bishop he’ll claim you were seized trying to escape, and he’ll have put you to death, so you’ll not be able to dispute him. I know Sir Philip.”

Father Maurice wrapped himself in a blanket and settled upon the remaining pallet. He was soon snoring softly. Osbert also slept, although he occasionally shifted upon his pallet and moaned when he did so. The lettuce seed was more effective for Osbert than for me. I lay alert well into the night.

How had I come to such a plight? Perhaps if William of Garstang had not given his books to me, six years past, when he was near to death from plague, I would not be here, wounded, upon the floor of Marcham Church. One of William’s three books was
Surgery
, by Henri de Mondeville. I read it, and changed my vocation.

Had I not spent a year of study in Paris, I could not have stitched up the lacerated leg of Lord Gilbert Talbot when a horse kicked him upon Oxford High Street. Then I would not have been offered a post as Lord Gilbert’s bailiff at Bampton, and was I not given such authority in that place I would not have known of John Thrale’s death or his coin, and would not now lay pierced upon the cold flags of All Saints’ Church.

But it was my skill as a surgeon which led me to meet Kate Caxton and claim her for my bride. I might wish the flow of my life had followed some other course, so to avoid the sorrow which occasionally afflicts me, as with all men, but had it done so I would never have known the joy of life with Kate. I would not have bounced Bessie upon my knee and heard her squeal with delight.

Why should I wish my way had been altered so as to avoid this place and this moment? Some other sorrows would surely have come to me had I chosen to walk other paths, and the bliss I found with Kate, the pleasure of life among the folk of Bampton, the satisfaction of my work as surgeon and for Lord Gilbert, all this I would have lost.

I turned upon my pallet to seek a more comfortable position, adjusted the blanket, and finally fell to sleep, content with my lot. I did awaken often through the night, and when I did I breathed a prayer that the Lord Christ would take pity upon me and send me, whole and recovered, back to Kate’s arms. I resolved never again to question His direction for my life, or lament the sorrows which come my way, for then I must also repent of the delights He has allowed me.

When dawn gave enough light to see, Father Maurice opened the door to the porch. He glanced through the opening, then closed the door and walked my way.

“Four men,” he said. “Didn’t see Sir Philip among ’em. Probably sought his bed and left others to do his work. No doubt there are more watching the other doors.”

There had been no shouting or commotion the night before, when Arthur let himself down from the tower. I was sure he was safely away. Had he been discovered there would have been tumult. Arthur would not be easily taken, even by half a dozen men.

From Marcham to Bampton is nearly ten miles. Even if Arthur was cautious upon the road he would have roused Wilfred, the porter of Bampton Castle, by midnight. Would he seek Lord Gilbert straight away, or allow his lord to sleep the night in peace before he gave him my message? I had supplied no instruction on the matter.

I had convinced myself that Arthur had awaited the new day to seek Lord Gilbert when I heard hoof-beats in the distance. The priest heard also, and turned to me with concern in his eyes. He believed, I think, that Sir Philip had returned with reinforcements. When I saw the concern upon his face I felt also some anxiety, but this soon faded. Had Sir Philip wished to violate sanctuary, he had had enough men with him last night to do so, and carry me, Osbert, and Arthur off to East Hanney.

“’Tis Lord Gilbert’s men,” I said, and was shocked at how weak my voice had become.

The thunder of many hooves reached a crescendo, then came to a clattering halt. There was a momentary stillness, soon followed by the shouts of many agitated men.

While the bellowing continued there came several firm blows against the church door, and we heard a shout over the din: “’Tis me, Arthur, with Lord Gilbert an’ men of Bampton!”

Father Maurice leaped to the door, and from the corner of my eye I saw Osbert attempt to lift himself upon an elbow to see what clamor had roused him from his sleep. The priest drew the bolt, swung open the door, and fell back as Lord Gilbert and Arthur charged through the opening. From beyond the porch, with the door now open, I could hear angry words, but they seemed to diminish in volume rapidly.

Arthur had stood aside to allow Lord Gilbert to enter the church first. “You are Father Maurice?” he asked. The priest bowed in reply.

“My man has told me of your good service. This church will see my gratitude. Where is Master Hugh?”

The morn was clouded, but brighter than the dim church, so Lord Gilbert cast his eyes about as he spoke, and they did not find me till Father Maurice pointed silently in my direction.

I tried to rise, and got as far as one knee, when I toppled to the flags. I was dizzy, I suspect, from loss of blood. Although de Mondeville did not address the phenomenon in his book, I believe it to be a consequence of a wound which bleeds much.

“Nay, Hugh, lay yourself down. No need to rise. Arthur has told me all. Lady Petronilla’s wagon follows, and your Kate is in it. She would not be prevented when she heard of your wound.”

“Bessie?” I said.

“Nurse is caring for her along with our own babe.”

The church door filled with the shadows of many men, and Lord Gilbert turned to see the reason for the deeper gloom.

“Gone,” a voice said. “All of ’em. Was two at other doors, but they fled when they saw t’others ride off.”

“Very well,” Lord Gilbert said. Then, to Father Maurice, “Is there a baker in Marcham? I would break my fast.”

“Aye, m’lord. He should be drawing loaves from his oven as we speak.”

Lord Gilbert handed coins to Arthur, told him to take another groom with him, and fetch loaves and ale. He then squatted by my pallet and spoke.

“I would hear more of this, when you are stronger. Arthur said there is a woman and children missing, and the woman may know something of the dead chapman.”

“Aye.” I did not intend to whisper, but that was all the response I could make.

“What of that fellow?” Lord Gilbert asked, pointing to Osbert. “Arthur said he fled his manor.”

“Aye. Did Arthur tell why?”

“He was hurried. ’Tis all a muddle. Something about the fellow guarding a maid Sir Philip Rede had seized.”

I raised myself to one elbow and intended to explain all to Lord Gilbert, but my strength failed. “The lass was stolen from her father and held for ransom,” I said, but then fell back to my pallet.

Lord Gilbert saw my weakness and did not press me further. I slept fitfully again, awakened often throughout the morning by the murmur of low voices. Shortly after the noon Angelus Bell I awoke to loud voices, and one of these feminine. A moment later Kate knelt by my pallet, cradled my dazed head in her arms, and pressed her wet cheek against mine. I began to feel better.

Lord Gilbert announced that, if we were to return to Bampton before nightfall, we must leave Marcham immediately. I called to Arthur and asked him to assist me to my feet. With his sturdy shoulder to lean upon I tottered across the churchyard, through the lychgate, to the privy behind the vicarage. I was much relieved! Here is no jest. I saw no blood in my discharge.

Chapter 11