Wolf Wood (Part One): The Gathering Storm (15 page)

'Your father
wants you to obtain a similar likeness of yourself. It is his
intention to present it to the seigneur at the signing of the
marriage contract.'

'What
contract?'

'Your father
is anxious that the marriage take place as soon as possible. All
the necessary arrangements are in hand. If you are unable to make
the journey to France, your brother will act as proxy.'

It sounded
like a replay of his first marriage. All the disastrous elements
were there, including Guy. Harald's head went into a spin.

'Mother, this
is ridiculous.'

'It is what
your father wants.'

'I must
protest.'

'Harald, your
father wills it. You are his heir only so long as he deems you fit
to receive that honour. If you wish to disobey him, that is your
choice. But be mindful that he will strike you from the inheritance
and there will be no place for you in this house.'

Winter passed
into spring and minds turned to May Day. Some regarded the festival
as an unfortunate relic from pagan times. Others saw it as part of
an ancient tradition that had to be defended from killjoys out to
stop their fun.

Plucked Robin

Canon Simon
stood by the window in the abbot's chamber and looked down into the
cloisters below. It was a pleasant sunny day. The birds were
chirping and the monks were sitting on the grass, reading and
chatting amongst themselves. Simon wished he could go out and join
them but William was obsessed by finance. He was muddling through
the bursar's report, trying to make sense of it.

'People
refusing to pay heriot. Where's the problem? That's owed to us.
Whenever a householder dies, his estate has to pay dues. The law is
very clear on that.'

'Richard
Vowell does not agree.'

'What's that
got to do with it?' William's face reddened. 'The man is of no
significance.'

'The point he
is making is that heriot refers to the return of military supplies
loaned to a knight by his lord. Vowell argues that it is reasonable
for a knight's widow to return things loaned to her husband but the
same does not go for his own property. He claims that Duke Humphrey
is sympathetic to that argument.'

'Humphrey is a
spent force.'

'He's still a
very powerful man.'

'Aye, Simon,
but not for long. He does not have the king's ear and that Cobham
woman hangs round his neck like a touch of the pox. She'll ruin
Humphrey just like that Lambert woman will ruin the almshouse.
They're as alike as two peas in a poxy pod.'

'Have you got
any further evidence against the matron?'

'I'm building
up a case and when the time's right I'll present it. We'll have
Alice de Lambert on a charge of heresy before I'm finished.'

'It will be
May Day soon,' Simon observed. 'That is a favourite time for
witchcraft and other abominations.'

'Aye,' William
smiled. 'And, of all the abominations, the maypole is the worse. It
attracts the followers of Satan … those who seek to defile the
sacraments of Holy Mother Church and put its teachings to
nought.'

'The maypole
dance could provide some excellent opportunities to learn the
identity of these people,' Simon said. 'Perhaps some loyal members
of the community could be encouraged to attend and report back to
us … for a suitable reward, of course.'

William rocked
back in his chair. 'Don't worry about that. My spies will be there
in various guises. I don't doubt they'll gather enough information
to keep the summoner busy for a long while. I've told them to keep
a special lookout for prominent members of the town, particularly
those associated with the almshouse.'

***

Mistress Hulle
supervised the servants as they loaded the provisions into the
storeroom, checking each item on her list. When she was certain
that everything was properly in place, she locked the door, secured
the key on her waistband and hurried upstairs to her husband's
office. Robert Hulle was working at his drawing board, preparing
plans for the vaulting below the abbey tower. He looked up when his
wife entered.

She appeared
flustered.

'It's
Geoffrey.'

'Yes …' Robert
put down his stylus.

'He's with
those Draper boys. I've seen them. They were running wild in Cheap
Street. You told him he was to have nothing to do with the Drapers
and he's disobeyed you. It's that Gascoigne boy … he's the
ringleader.' She pointed an accusing finger at Robert. 'It was your
idea that Geoffrey should make friends with him. I warned you but
you wouldn't listen and this is where it's led.'

'I could have
been mistaken,' Robert admitted.

'You certainly
were. That William is out of control. He's growing up far too fast.
His voice has changed. I don't want him to have anything to do with
my son. He'll lead him into bad ways.'

'I am aware of
what you are saying,' Robert nodded in agreement. 'Brother Simon
has told me about the Gascoignes. William's father is decidedly odd
and the rest of the family are little more than brigands. We should
be thankful they spend most of their time in France.'

Mistress Hulle
wrung her hands and continued to fret.

'Geoffrey has
told me things that make me blush.'

'What sort of
things?'

'He says
there's a man who dresses up on May Day. He puts on the head of a
donkey and the robes of a friar. They call him the teacher. He
gathers the young people together and tells them things they ought
not to know. He says they have to find a lusty lad and a willing
girl or the crops won't grow and everyone will starve. Then they go
off into the woods and do unmentionable things together.'

'Did Geoffrey
say anything about the headless man?' Robert asked.

'What headless
man?'

'The one who
roams the woods around the bottomless pit that lies in a hollow
over the hill beyond Nether Combe … that was his last story.'

'I don't know
what you're talking about.'

'Nor do I, my
love.'

'Robert, you
are not taking this seriously.'

'I am, my
love. I'll speak to Geoffrey about William Gascoigne. Our son is a
sensible lad. He'll soon realise he's mixing with bad company.'

***

Simon Draper
held the bar and William Gascoigne wielded the hammer. Geoffrey
Hulle stood anxiously to one side. The boys had found an abandoned
wagon and were removing the wheels. They needed them for an amazing
feat of valour they were going to perform at the May Day dance. It
had something to do with King Arthur and his knights and William
had worked it out. The blazing sun and the goddess were somehow
involved. Geoffrey didn't get the connection. His concern was for
the owners of the cart. It was like those used to transport stone
from the Ham Hill quarries to his father's yard.

'Are you sure
they don't want it anymore?'

William rested
the hammer on the soft ground and looked up.

'If they did
they wouldn't have left it here.'

'But the axel
is broken. They could be coming back.'

'Then they
should have got here before we did.'

William rained
down more blows and the wheel detached. Geoffrey winced as it
rolled to where the other wheel was lying.

'I think we
should leave them alone.'

'Scaredy
Mouse!' Simon Draper pulled a face.

'No. I'm not.
It's just that they don't belong to us.'

William
squatted on his haunches and watched them argue. He wasn't going to
join in. Leaders didn't do that … leaders gave orders. He waited
for the boys to calm down then pointed to a grassy knoll beside the
road to Dorchester.

'We've got to
get the wheels up to Dancing Hill.'

'I think we
should leave them here,' Geoffrey said.

William bore
down on him.

'Do you want
to be a true member of our valiant company?'

'Yes,'
Geoffrey wheezed.

'Then you must
show proof.'

'What do you
want me to do?'

'We are
preparing to demonstrate our loyalty to an ancient tradition handed
down by knights of old.' William tried to sound like King Arthur.
'The goddess has led us to the holy wheels. Now we must find pitch
and tallow.'

'There's pitch
on that sailcloth the monks threw away,' Geoffrey said.

'And lots of
tallow in Wat Gallor's yard,' Simon added.

William
considered the options. Raiding the monks' rubbish dump held no
fascination for him. Old women with crooked backs could do that in
full daylight and run no risk. The other proposition was far more
appealing. It would take real cunning to get into Wat's yard and
make off with his tallow. The big butcher had recovered from his
fight with Robin. He was one of the hazards they'd have to face.
The other was his guard dog. It was a cross between a hunting hound
and a wolf and had jaws that could take the head off a sheep with
one bite.

He decided that the
Quest for the
Pitch
was below the dignity of a true
knight. But the
Quest for the
Tallow
presented real
challenges. It was the sort of errand King Arthur would give to one
of his noble band. William's thoughts turned to Guy. He'd taught
him more in an afternoon than the mole had in an entire year. The
mole knew nothing about fighting. Guy knew everything. Guy said the
first thing was to know your enemy. You had to study his strengths
and weaknesses. Then you took advantage of the weaknesses and
turned his strengths against him.

He thought about Walter. The butcher's weakness was his big
mouth and impulsive behaviour. His strength was his huge body and
colossal hound. His strength had worked against him when he'd
grabbed Sister Alice. So, how could the hound be put to similar
use? William's mind cranked through the possibilities. The big
beast could commit some outrage in the bishop's deer park. He
rejected that idea. It was plausible but had no relevance to
the
Quest for the
Tallow
. Somehow, the dog had to render the
sacred substance into their hands. He kept thinking and was nearing
a solution when the sound of a band took his attention.

A procession
was coming from the town. He watched it cross the river. Young men
with a maypole were followed by a troop of dancers. They wore
garlands and sung a song about buttercups and daisies. William
guessed it had more to do with sex than flowers.

***

Elizabeth
Baret smiled at the vicar as she stirred the bowl with a silver
spoon. Entertainment was an essential part of life in their small
community. Despite differences in class, there was a common feeling
amongst people of refinement and education. They liked to think of
themselves as genteel. You could be as poor as a church mouse and
still be accepted into their company. John Duffield was one of the
latter. He had a small stipend as vicar and drew income from rental
properties bequeathed to All Hallows. He peered at the sparkling
liquid.

'Elderberry
flowers from the first blooming and dried hips from the autumn
harvest,' Elizabeth said. 'Sister Alice prepared them with her own
hand.'

A look of
caution appeared on the vicar's face.

'You said the
potion was prepared by Sister Alice?'

'The
ingredients came from her.'

He shuffled
awkwardly. 'Perhaps wine would be more appropriate.'

Elizabeth lost
interest. She found the vicar boring and a growing commotion
demanded her attention. A crowd of young people had gathered up by
the Half Moon Inn. She heard William's voice and guessed he'd
sneaked out to join them.

'Pray, excuse
me.' She hurried to the front door where Robin was on duty. The
young man was dressed in a page's uniform that was far too young
for him.

'Where's
William?'

'Don't know,'
Robin shrugged.

'I thought I
heard him with those people up there.' Elizabeth pointed towards
the inn. 'Go and see if you can find him. He should not be mixing
with such company.'

Robin's face
fell. 'Do I have to go dressed like this?'

'You must find
out what your charge is doing.'

'Can't I
change into something else first?'

'I think you
should go at once,' Elizabeth said sternly. 'William's father is
here. He won't be pleased to learn that his son is running wild on
the streets. You're supposed to be looking after him.'

Robin left
obediently and Elizabeth returned to her guests. Her husband, John,
was speaking to Robert Hulle. The master mason was dressed in the
robes of his guild and looked very distinguished. Mistress Hulle
stood by his side in a dark dress, trimmed with white lace, and
looked ill at ease.

'I saw you
talking to that young man by the door.' Her eyes twitched
anxiously. 'Was it about the boys?'

'What
boys?'

'William
Gascoigne and my son Geoffrey, of course.'

Elizabeth
tried to ignore the harsh tone. 'I thought I heard William out
there. I asked Robin to go and see.'

'Isn't he the
one who assaulted the bailiff?'

'There was a
most unfortunate incident in which Bailiff Gallor fell and hurt his
back. It arose from a misunderstanding.'

'But is he a
suitable companion for boys of such an impressionable age? That's
what I want to know. Geoffrey has come back with tales of a most
disturbing nature.'

'What sort of
tales?'

'They're about
a man who dresses up as a priest with a donkey's head. He does it
on May Day and encourages the young people to engage in practices
that are too shameful to describe.'

It was an old
story and Elizabeth wondered if there was any truth in it. Girls of
her social class were kept under strict supervision and taught the
virtues of sexual modesty. The same could not be said of the
peasants. The country folk seemed to regard fertility as an end in
itself. They hung onto views from a remote pagan past. The vicar
had preached sermons on it. A growing commotion caused her to look
towards the door. Male voices were crowing like cockerels and girls
were clucking like hens.