Mel Starr - The Tainted Coin

Next day I felt well enough to rise from my bed. After a loaf and cheese I went, with Kate nervously attending every step, to the lodgings range to see how Osbert fared. He did not fare well.

His lesions were many and much pus and blood yet drained from them. The fellow was alert, no longer insensible from the thrashing he had endured, which is not to say he no longer suffered.

I asked Osbert how he fell into Sir Philip’s hands.

“Men come on me when I was past Frilford. They was afoot. I’d’ve made for a hedgerow if I’d heard horses comin’. I was enjoyin’ the walk, wool-gatherin’, like, an’ they come into the road before me afore I could take notice an’ hide. When I seen ’em begin to run I knew whose men they must be, though they was too far away to recognize faces. ’Twas John, Adam, an’ Martyn. Thought they was my friends. I ran into the fields, but Martyn cut me off. Fleet of foot, is Martyn. Sir Philip promised three pence to any man who could take me.”

Osbert lay upon his belly, an arm drawn up upon which he pillowed his head. It caused me some discomfort to bend over him to inspect his lacerated back, and this he noticed.

“’Ow’d you get me free?” he asked. “Last I remember, they’d tied me to a post an’ was layin’ on with the lash.”

“I will tell you all when you are recovered. Your back needs attention, else it will not heal properly.”

I told Osbert and Cicily that I would return shortly with instruments and salves, then with Kate ever at my elbow lest I grow faint, I returned to our chamber.

Some of my instruments I had taken to Abingdon, but what I needed to deal with Osbert’s back I had in the castle. From my supply of herbs I took a flask of ointment I had made by boiling leaves of moneywort in the juice of wild pears. This salve is of my own devising, as moneywort serves well for old wounds, and pear juice is useful for new. I decided a year past to try the two combined. Osbert provided my first opportunity to see how the two might serve when mixed together, for under most circumstances I apply no ointment to any wound.

Flayed skin lay in tattered ribbons upon Osbert’s back. I drew down the blanket covering him and hardly knew where to begin. I must first cleanse the lacerations of caked blood and pus, so sent Cicily to the buttery for half a ewer of wine. While she was away I used tweezers and a tiny scalpel to tease away detached skin. This did not trouble Osbert much, for the skin had been peeled from his back and was no longer sensitive. But when my scalpel touched living flesh he gasped and the muscles of his back quivered. I prepared another draught of ale with a strong dose of crushed hemp seeds for the fellow to drink. The work I must do would cause him some pain.

It caused me some discomfort also, to bend over Osbert as I must. Kate had accompanied me again, being unwilling to believe my protest that my strength was much increased. She saw me wince as I bent to the work, and dragged a stool to the bed so I might sit closer to my task and have less reason to bend to it.

Cicily soon returned with the wine and I gently flushed coagulated blood, shredded fragments of skin, and layers of pus from Osbert’s wounds. The flesh of his back convulsed as he felt the sting of the wine, but he bore the pain without crying out.

When I had cleaned his back as well as could be I stitched two of the lacerations which were deeper and wider than the others, then dipped a clean fragment of linen cloth into the ointment of pears and moneywort and daubed it thickly upon Osbert’s wounds.

De Mondeville taught that wounds heal more readily when left open to the air, rather than wrapped tight in bandages. Since my year of study in Paris I have practiced this method of his, and found good success. Most folk find this new procedure suspect, and when I told Cicily that she must leave Osbert’s back exposed till the ointment was dry, then cover him lightly only with a blanket to keep him warm, she frowned at the instruction.

I took dinner in the hall, and when the meal was done was about to seek our chamber and rest when John Chamberlain approached. Lord Gilbert, he said, would see me in the solar.

My wounds pained me, and where the arrow had pierced my back I felt a renewed flow of blood. Bending over Osbert had broken open the puncture. Kate would not be pleased to see another kirtle stained. But when a great lord calls, a man must answer, especially so if the lord is his employer and has given him a house in the town freehold.

Kate appeared with Bessie in her arms. I had not seen the child for many days, and felt a pang that I had neglected her. I vowed that when Lord Gilbert was done with me I would atone for my negligence.

I found Lord Gilbert in the solar, enjoying a blaze in the fireplace which warmed his back. He bade me sit, and asked of my health.

“My wound troubles me some,” I said, “but I am likely to survive.”

“Good. The villein that you attend, when will his wounds be healed so that he may be returned?”

“Returned? To the lord who abused him so?”

“Abuse or not, Sir Philip is his lord and he must be sent back. Since plague far too many of his station have fled their manors. Such must be stopped.”

“If he is sent to Sir Philip it will mean his certain death.”

“A lord has such warrant over disobedient villeins.”

“What crime did the man commit worthy of death?” I asked.

“He fled his lord and manor,” Lord Gilbert frowned.

“Because of me. If he is sent back to East Hanney and to his death, you make me complicit.”

“Why so?”

“He was assigned to guard a maid who had been stolen from her father and held for ransom. Arthur and I approached Sir Philip’s manor after dark, seeking another woman we thought might be held there, and released the lass. Osbert feared Sir Philip would deal severely with him for being surprised in the night and allowing the maid to be freed.”

“So you carried him away as well as the lass?”

“What was I to do? Leave him to die at the hands of a wicked lord?”

“Wicked Sir Philip may be, but he was the man’s lord.”

“May be? He took a knight’s daughter and kept her for ransom. Because Osbert failed to assist this felony, he must now die?”

“Perhaps Sir Philip would not have destroyed the fellow.”

“He was doing so when Arthur and I freed him.”

“Ah, but that was for running away, not for failing to properly guard his prisoner.”

“You believe Sir Philip would have dealt more leniently with Osbert for allowing his captive, for whom he was demanding fifty pounds, to escape?”

“Whether Sir Philip is lenient or not is his business, not yours… or mine. The man was his villein and his to command.”

“He commanded him to aid him in a felony. Must a man obey his lord and violate the laws of God and the King?”

“It is for his lord to decide obedience to the King, and a priest to determine what is due God.”

“If you send Osbert back to Sir Philip, he will slay the man, and if the past days are a measure, he’ll seek some ghastly way to do it.”

“I cannot control what another knight does upon his own manor. I must do what law requires and send the fellow back. The man must be returned to Sir Philip as soon as he is recovered from his wounds.”

“When he will receive fresh ones. You may as well pack him upon a cart and send him back now.”

Lord Gilbert grimaced involuntarily, for he had seen the bloody flesh of Osbert’s back. He pounded a fist upon his table to punctuate his next words. “I will not permit my bailiff to aid a villein who would flee his lord, and there’s an end to the matter. When the fellow is strong enough he will be returned. See to it.”