Mel Starr - The Tainted Coin

“Wine? Oh, yes… and some for Extreme Unction. Have these men received Extreme Unction?”

“Nay,” I managed to whisper. “Nor will I be this day.”

After receiving last rites the Church considers a man as good as dead, even should he mend. I had no desire to recover from my wound but to fast perpetually, go barefoot at all seasons, and never again lie with Kate.

The flags were cold. I began to shiver, and Arthur saw.

“We must take Master Hugh and Osbert someplace where they may be warmed,” he said to the priest, “and remove Master Hugh’s bloody kirtle and cotehardie.”

But that was not yet to be. Before the priest could reply, I heard the hooves of several horses. The priest had left open the door to the porch. The horses were reined to a halt at the church wall, near the lychgate, where Bruce and the palfrey were tied, and I then heard men’s voices, one shouting louder than the others, although I could not hear clearly his words. I did not need to. I was certain we had been pursued from East Hanney, and Sir Philip Rede now stood at the lychgate with his men, ready to finish his work with Osbert, and me also.

Arthur understood this as well, and looked open-mouthed from me to the church door, awaiting some command.

Before I could summon my wits the priest turned and hastened to the porch to see who had arrived so noisily. I saw him glance through the open door and heard him mutter some indistinct oath. Then he did a surprising thing. He slammed the church door closed and slid the bolt to fix it shut in the face of Sir Philip — if indeed it were he who a moment later pounded upon the door and demanded admittance.

“Why did you not say ’twas Sir Philip Rede you had fled?” the priest asked Arthur.

“You didn’t ask,” he replied. “You know the man?”

“Aye. A blackguard, was ever one born of woman. He was to hang this one, you say?”

“Aye. An’ he comes through that door he’ll do it, an’ finish off Master Hugh, as well.”

“He’ll not do so,” said the priest. He looked down upon me, where I shivered upon the stones. “Do you claim sanctuary?” he asked.

“Aye,” I managed to whisper between rattling teeth. “I do.”

If Sir Philip had been a powerful lord he might scorn violating sanctuary and the threat of excommunication. But a poverty-stricken minor knight will think twice before hauling a man from a church before the allotted forty days have passed.

Sharp pounding again reverberated through the heavy oaken church door. Sir Philip hammered upon it with some hard object, perhaps the pommel of his dagger. At the same time he shouted a demand that the door be opened. This continued for some time, but none of us in the church made reply.

When Sir Philip grew weary of beating upon the door, the priest called out to him.

“Who do you seek?”

“My villein,” came the reply, “and the men who stole him from me.”

“They claim sanctuary,” the priest shouted.

To this there was no immediate answer. Sir Philip was unprepared for this announcement. I imagined what he was thinking. For forty days he would need to station guards at the church door to see we did not escape.

Osbert moaned. While unconscious he had been free from pain. If he regained his senses this would no longer be so. My sack of instruments and herbs was in Abingdon, at the New Inn. The church provided sanctuary, but was also a jail from which I could not escape to seek help for Osbert or myself.

I heard voices once more beyond the church door, and saw the priest turn his attention there again. I could not hear what was said, for the words spoken were not from voices raised in anger.

The priest said a few words through the closed door, then opened it a crack and another robed figure slipped through. As soon as this man entered the church the priest shoved the door closed again.

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.”