Michael Jecks - A Friar's bloodfeud

‘He’s been murdered by that man le Poter. I expect this poor priest refused to offer sanctuary to a killer of widows. When the priest denied him, he turned on him.’

‘And felt so remorseful that he set the dead man on his bed like this, with his arms crossed, I suppose?’ Baldwin demanded contemptuously. ‘If you have a brain, Sir Geoffrey, please begin to use it. Besides, where is the wound that ended his life? Simon, could you help me to turn him over?’

Reluctantly, Simon took hold of the frail old shoulder and pushed.

‘See?’ Baldwin said delightedly. ‘No wound. Plainly this was no murder, but a simple death of old age. May all our deaths be as gentle.’

‘What is that?’ Sir Geoffrey asked, eyeing the pack which Simon and Baldwin had left on the floor by the doorway.

‘That? Only a parcel I found near the altar.’

‘It’s Nicholas’s shirt. He has been here. Perhaps he sought to rob the church as well as kill the priest. He is entirely evil!’

‘He is a man like any other,’ Baldwin remonstrated. ‘He entered, he found the priest dead, and he fled.’

‘Why should he bolt if he had nothing to hide?’

‘A man may have nothing to hide and yet still be wary of allowing himself to be caught by a posse bent on his destruction,’ Baldwin said dismissively.

‘You suggest my posse was …’

Baldwin looked at him for a long moment, then turned on his heel and left the chapel.

Humphrey tried to yawn. It seemed the natural thing to do, after waking from sleep, but even as he opened his mouth the pain shot from his temple to his jaw, and he hiccuped in pain.

‘Oh! Oh! God in Heaven, ow !’

‘Think yourself lucky, friend. You could have been struck with a knife instead.’

Opening an eye cautiously, Humphrey found himself staring at a rock.

The voice continued conversationally. ‘Of course, if you had been killed outright, it might have saved you a not inconsiderable amount of grief for the future.’

Humphrey winced. The voice was educated, and that could well bode badly for the future. ‘Um. We are all here in this miserable existence for our allotted time. We can all expect sadness and pain.’

There was a chuckle. ‘Ah, but a man who pretends to be a priest? He can be made to suffer dreadfully, can’t he?’

Humphrey tried to move his arms and found that he was effectively bound. A thong or cord tied him at the elbows, and his ankles were similarly restrained. He lifted his head and turned to face his gaoler. ‘I am a priest.’

‘No, I don’t think so. And nor do many others about here. Especially Matthew, who felt sure you were out to take advantage of poor Isaac. In fact he thought you were probably after the silver from the chapel. I’m surprised you didn’t bother to take all the altar trappings. The cloth would be worth a few shillings, and the cross too.’

‘I am no thief!’ Humphrey declared, managing to affect a tone of righteous indignation that he scarcely felt. He was glad now that he hadn’t tried to shove the chalice in his pack when he left. It had been tempting, God alone knew.

‘Oddly enough, you apparently are not.’ Friar John stood and walked to a small cauldron that sat over the fire. He stirred the pottage and sniffed at it appreciatively. ‘And yet you are not a priest, either, are you? So my interest in you is greater than it would normally be.’

‘Why do you say that? I can speak the Pater Noster as well as any, and I can …’

‘Oh, yes — so I have heard.’

‘Then there is no reason for you to keep me tied up like this, Brother. Release me and let me go on my way. If you’re so attached to your supper that you won’t share it with another poor sinner, then set me free so that I can pick up what I may from other people who are more gracious and charitable,’ Humphrey said with a note of indignation. He felt he had pitched the tone just right, and even this daft old sermon-gabbler would see the justification in his demand. There was no point in keeping an innocent man here. ‘Come, there is no harm done, apart from my broken head, and I won’t demand compensation for that. Clearly you thought that there was a draw-latch trying to break into your …’

He remembered where he was all of a sudden, and peered about him in the gloom.

‘Ah, you are perhaps wondering what a shod friar is doing down here?’ John asked amiably. He looked over at his prisoner and smiled gently. ‘That, you see, is the interesting point and the reason why you must remain here as my guest for a little while.’

‘I will not!’

‘Oh, you may shout all you want, Humphrey, but you won’t be released. Apart from anything else, I want to know what you are doing out here, so far from your little chapel. Did Father Isaac see you putting your hand into a pot of money that you should not have?’

‘Of course not! I told you, I am no thief!’

‘So you did.’ John turned his attention back to the pottage. ‘I do hope you are not, my friend, because if you are, I shall see it as my duty to turn you over to the secular authorities. I understand that they can be a little unkind so far from the city.’

‘Brother, no … please!’

‘I will wait. There is no hurry.’

‘But I cannot stay here like this, Brother! Please, set me loose so that I can continue on my way.’

‘I should like to — but I fear that my companion would become most upset if I released you.’

‘But why?’

‘Because he wishes to remain hidden for a little while. He must be unseen.’

‘I’ll not tell anyone!’ Humphrey gabbled quickly. He had suddenly realised who this friar must be: a member of an outlaw gang. This associate of his must be another outlaw, and perhaps the fellow would seek to silence anyone who saw his face, or who knew where they had their camp. Sweet Jesus! It was enough to make a man weep! He’d done nothing, and now his life was to be cast aside just because he had come here to a quiet building to seek shelter for a night.

‘Oh, no!’ John said affably. ‘How could we permit you to go without experiencing our hospitality?’

The Keeper was thoughtful as he climbed back on to his mount. He glanced across at Simon, who was watching Sir Geoffrey with a cold, flickering suspicion in his eyes. ‘Simon? Are you all right?’

‘It’s possible that he’s the man who got Hugh killed,’ Simon said.

He was calm enough, but Baldwin could feel the waves of rage. ‘Simon, do nothing foolish. You have no evidence. If we can find it, I swear, I shall see him in court myself.’

‘I don’t want him in court — I want him dead, if he killed Hugh.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘I can understand that. I swear to you, I shall help you if it is at all possible.’

Edgar joined them and sat easily on his horse with his customary half-grin. Simon shot a glance at him and looked away. He was aware that Edgar had been a close friend of Hugh’s, so he knew he must miss him, but just now the man’s expression was almost sardonic. Yes, there was a cold gleam in his eyes, and Simon was sure that he’d be the first to make Hugh’s killer pay, but just now he scarcely seemed to care that Hugh was dead.

When he turned away, he caught a glimpse of the hound master. The man was scowling at a pair of his brutes, who were sniffing and nuzzling at the ground. Simon jerked with his chin in the direction of the hounds, and Baldwin nodded. ‘They’ve got his scent.’

‘Sir Geoffrey! Sir Geoffrey!’

The knight came from the chapel and stood glaring about him, seeking the source of the call.

‘Sir, I think they have him again!’

Sir Geoffrey ran to his horse and climbed up as the first of the hounds began to bay. As the other beasts took up the call, Simon and Baldwin were soon caught up in a fresh chase. The mass of men and horses began to mill about the chapel’s yard, and then, as the hounds set off northwards, they leaped the low fence and set off in pursuit.