Michael Jecks - The Chapel of Bones

‘What’s that got to do with this fellow?’ Simon asked, indicating Matthew.

‘He was the man who really betrayed his master, so he is one of those who put part of the blame on my brother and despoiled Vince’s good name. I followed him here today to kill him in revenge.’

‘But he’s not dead.’ Simon knew it was the right of any man to cut down an outlaw who ran and refused to stop.

‘True. Because when I saw what manner of a man he was, it didn’t seem to merit the use of force against him. Had he been a little more manly, I’d have killed him and not minded the danger of the law, but he looked so pathetic, I didn’t want to waste a good arrow.’

Simon muttered, ‘I wish he’d felt the same when he tried to kill my friend, Sir Baldwin.’

When Stephen had left the room, Jeanne sat at Baldwin’s side again. She broke up the bread into pieces and when she saw that Baldwin was waking again, she soaked a little of the crust in wine and passed it to him. He sucked it eagerly and gave her a smile. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, and she dabbed at it with a spare piece of linen, smiling back at him as comfortingly as she could, and that was how she remained while he was awake. As soon as his eyes were closed and his grip loosened on her hand, she sat more upright, feeling the muscles in her back relax.

‘My Lady? Are you all right? If you want to go and take a walk about the Close, I shall remain here with Sir Baldwin,’ Edgar said. His tone was kindly, his manner respectful, but as compassionate as a brother.

She threw him a grateful look, but then her eyes went back to her husband’s body. There was more sweat breaking out on his face. ‘Do you think he’ll survive, Edgar?’

He sniffed. ‘I reckon he’ll do. He’s been wounded before, and I’ve seen worse than that pinprick. Yes, he’ll live.’

Most servants would have been cautious in their responses to their mistresses, but Edgar was being honest.

He continued, ‘I’ve seen men die from serious wounds about that part of the body, but usually there’s more blood, either seeping from the wound or coming from the mouth and nose. He looks well enough. So long as the pus runs and cleans him inside, he’ll be fine.’

‘Yes,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘And that physician hasn’t been here yet. Where is he?’

‘We should send a messenger for him, perhaps?’

She nodded and glanced at her sleeping husband. He looked so vulnerable, so childlike. She said softly, ‘In a while, perhaps. Not quite yet.’

It was hard. Daniel had stayed up late with her, trying to comfort her, but although she wanted the solace of his young arms about her, there was nothing that he could do or say which would ease her pain.

Her husband’s death had left a hole in Sara’s life that felt unfillable. Her man had taken her, a raw, foolish peasant girl, and seen something in her which no one else had. By marrying her, Saul had given Sara a very different life from the one she could have anticipated, and he had also given her himself. For that she would always honour him and his memory. Now, although others might say that they understood her feelings, they couldn’t. Her life had ended that day when Thomas told her of her man’s death.

The second loss was appalling, too: to lose a child was to lose a part of yourself. She had been one with this little boy for nine months, nurturing him within her womb. No man could understand how that loss must stupefy and devastate a woman. She had grown used to the idea that there would only be the three of them from the moment of Saul’s death, and then God had taken her darling Elias too. It was too cruel! Then, for consolation, He gave her a man to soften the blow and save her from madness: Thomas. The man who had killed her husband.

How God could treat her so was a mystery. She must have sinned in her past … but for the life of her she didn’t remember it. She had only ever tried to praise Him as the priests told her she must.

Thomas had murdered her Saul, and then arrived at her door to tell her; maybe it gave him some kind of gratification to see her pain. He was there again when she fell with Elias at the Priory’s gate, as though God was sending him as a messenger of doom to oversee every misfortune of her life. Overtly a comforter, in fact he was only ever there to bring still more grief to her life. And then he had become a focus for her affection. She had learned that he was always about when she needed aid, and he had never sought to dissuade her from becoming attached to him, although he should have been consumed with guilt. He was the engineer of her misery. She must hate him!

Yes. She must hate him, just as surely as Daniel did. Her son was repelled by him, and even this morning as the first light had illuminated their room, Daniel had asked if she was also awake.

‘Because when the Dean hears that man’s story, we ought to be there.’

‘I don’t want to see him again,’ she said.

‘Don’t cry, Mummy. Don’t! We’ll be all right. I’ll get work and feed you. We’ll be all right.’

‘I’m fine,’ she lied, wiping her eyes. ‘I just don’t want to think about him, that’s all.’

‘Well, I want to see him punished. I have to know that my father was avenged. Do you think the Dean will hang him for robbing us?’

She turned away. ‘He didn’t rob us, Danny. He tried to give us money.’

‘Only because he was guilty! He killed Daddy and wanted us to forgive him.’

‘Perhaps,’ she said, but without conviction. If she were honest with herself, the sight of him in their home had shocked her. She’d thought that he wouldn’t dare come back here again, but he had, to help with a parting gift. That had been kind.

‘I want to go and see him pay,’ Danny said grimly. He rose from their bed and began to pull his shirt on over his head.

It was one of Saul’s, and many sizes too large. Seeing him there — little, thin, preparing for a winter without a father or secure supply of food — Sara could barely keep the tears at bay. The two of them might survive a while, but without a man they would soon know the anguish of hunger gnawing at their bellies as the money ran out.

She gripped him tightly against her bosom, rocking him back and forth as she prayed for help from the God Who had taken so much already, pleading that He wouldn’t take her last son as well.

There was only Danny left for her to lose.

Matthew was weeping much of the way back to the city. His hands were tied with a thong attached to a long rein which Simon had bound to his saddle’s pommel. The other riders were behind them, and the silent, thoughtful tanner marched on Matthew’s right, his bow unstrung in his hands.

The weeping and wailing eventually got to Simon. ‘Shut up that noise, Vicar!’

‘One error, and my life has been ruined!’

‘The error was your betrayal of your master, so don’t expect sympathy from me!’ Simon grated. ‘You committed treason and saw to your master’s murder.’

‘It was for the good of Exeter and the Cathedral, though! I had no choice.’

‘That was why you demanded money of William, was it?’

‘That shit! Damn his heart! He persuaded me into it, and then fled the city himself. Made himself look good by telling the King about the gate, and took the King’s money to go.’

‘Much like you, in fact,’ Simon said. ‘You took all the advancement you could, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. Well, that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t seek advancement.’

‘Oho! No, of course not!’

‘I didn’t! But if a man is offered … I mean, I didn’t try to get new tasks and income, they just came.’

‘Yes,’ Simon scoffed. ‘And none of them because of the respect in which you were held by your peers?’