Mel Starr - Unhallowed Ground

Arnulf began by asking his father how he did, which needed no reply, for any man could see he was likely to soon see the Lord Christ, unless there be a purgatory, which I am come to doubt. Perhaps I should not write so, but I think it unlikely a bishop will ever read these words of mine, or trouble himself with a heretical surgeon should he do so.

The son’s next words brought me to quick attention. “I told you last week you’ll need worry no more of bein’ attacked again,” he assured the old man. “Not as Thomas atte Bridge was found hangin’ from a tree at Cow-Leys Corner.”

“Amabil told me also,” Philip whispered. “Little good his death’ll do me now.”

While his father spoke Arnulf shifted on his bench to observe his mother. She had placed a pot upon the coals. Arnulf had but to raise his eyes from the pot to see me standing between door and window.

“You have a guest,” he said harshly.

“’Tis Master Hugh, him as is Lord Gilbert’s bailiff. He has brought herbs to ease your father’s suffering.”

“Ah… well then,” his voice softened, “we are in your debt.”

“Mixed with ale, the herbs will bring some release from pain and aid your father’s sleep. And comfrey made into a paste will speed healing of his bruised face.”

“What is owed for this?”

“Tuppence.”

Arnulf fished about in his pouch and brought forth the coins. He stood and delivered them to my hand without another word. It was I who spoke.

“Did Thomas atte Bridge deal the blows to your father?”

“Aye, so I believe.”

“Why would he do so?”

“Because he was too much the coward to attack me.”

“He had reason to dislike you?”

“So he thought.”

“Was his thinking flawed?”

“Nay… I suppose not.”

“You did harm to Thomas?”

“In a way. We both sought a yardland of the bishop. I offered a better price. ’Twas land vacant near two years since John Rugg died with all his family when plague returned.”

“Thomas resented losing the property?”

“Aye. He offered but three shillings gersom to Father Thomas.”

“I’m surprised he could afford even that.”

“Said as how I’d enough land an’ was takin’ food from ’is table.”

“But all this was near two years in the past, was it not?”

“Aye, ’bout that.”

“Atte Bridge waited two years to vent his anger?”

“Nay, ’e’s been at me since, but nothin’ I could prove to the vicars. Lost two lambs last year. Seen ’em born an’ two days later they was gone.”

“Perhaps some beast carried them off?”

“Perhaps. But no fox will take a lamb, be there an angry ewe about. An’ someone breaks into me barn at night. Things go missin’: harness for the oxen, an iron spade, such like.”

“Is it possible some other did these thefts?”

“It is, but I’m thinkin’ there will be no more, now Thomas atte Bridge lies in a grave at Cow-Leys Corner.”

I agreed that cessation of these misfortunes would point to Thomas atte Bridge as the source, bid farewell to Philip and Amabil, and set out for Galen House. I had found another man pleased that Thomas atte Bridge lay in his grave. But did he put him there?

Ifound Kate munching contentedly upon a maslin loaf and was pleased to see her do so.

“Your appetite has returned?”

“Some. Not in the morn, nor do I pine for roasted meat. But a piece of fish or a custard is pleasing, and this loaf suits me very well.”

It had been three months and a few days since I met Kate, her father, and the wedding party at the porch of the Church of St Beornwald. There Father Thomas made us husband and wife, and I gave to Kate a golden ring set with an emerald, which I had purchased from a goldsmith on Oxford High Street. All know emeralds may ward off illness. I would have been better pleased to wed Kate sooner, but Holy Church forbids marriage during Advent and the twelve days of Christmas. Why this must be so I do not understand. The birth of the Lord Christ is cause for much joy and celebration, as is a wedding. The bishops surely have an answer to this, but there are none in Bampton or Oxford to ask.

“The herbs you took to the sufferer in the Weald… will they ease him?”

“As much as can be. I can diminish a man’s pain, but I cannot remove it wholly.”

“And the man who attacked him, is he known?”

“The son believes so: Thomas atte Bridge.”

Kate was silent, chewing thoughtfully upon the last crust of her loaf. She swallowed and spoke.

“There is no shortage of folk in Bampton and the Weald with cause to hate the man.”

“True. Hubert Shillside would have faced him over Alice atte Bridge’s dower lands, did he yet live. Peter Carpenter’s daughter was ravished, and Arnulf Mannyng has suffered theft and the beating of his father at Thomas atte Bridge’s hands, so he believes.”

“Three men with a grudge against atte Bridge,” Kate mused. “You think there are more?”

“Likely so.”

My apprehension was accurate, as I soon learned.

Two days later I determined to travel to Alvescot where I might learn from Gerard the verderer the condition of Lord Gilbert’s forests now that winter was past. I did not expect to discover anything troubling. Gerard has served Lord Gilbert for many years and knows his business, although his sons and nephew do the work now under his guidance, crippled as he is since the blow to his skull.

At the marshalsea I ordered Bruce saddled and made ready. I might have walked, but I am grown fond of the old horse which carries me about the countryside and I believe the beast enjoys escaping the stable.

The way to Alvescot leads past Cow-Leys Corner. As I passed the tree where Thomas atte Bridge hung, my thoughts drifted from forest management to death. I had convinced myself that a journey to Alvescot was my duty, but was this so? Perhaps my travel was but an escape from confronting three men who had reason to murder Thomas atte Bridge. Indeed, if Hubert or Peter or Arnulf was guilty, I had no desire to know of it.

Gerard lives with his wife and grown sons across the street from the Church of St Peter. I remembered the place well, for on a dark night a year past Thomas atte Bridge had lain in wait for me behind the church wall and clubbed me upon my skull when I peered through the lych gate. I did not know at the time who delivered the blow, or who it was I had followed from Bampton. Indeed, at the time and for some hours after I knew nothing at all.

I found Gerard hobbling about in his toft, where were stored coppiced poles and a few beams cut from trees which had fallen in winter storms. There is little need, since the plague, for cutting timber for construction. Many houses lie empty; why build new? But should a tree fall, it is wise to hew it into beams and saw it into planks rather than allow it to rot upon the forest floor. I was pleased to see that Gerard, or his sons and nephew, had been active in this work. And coppiced poles will always find use: houses need new rafters when the old decay, fences must be maintained, and firewood and charcoal burning will consume what may remain.

Few trees, Gerard said, had fallen in the winter past, and those which did I saw now before me hewn and sawn in Lord Gilbert’s wood-yard, drying under a crude shed. Deer were plentiful, Gerard reported, and when Lord Gilbert returned to Bampton at Lammastide he would find good hunting.

While we spoke Richard and a youth I did not know entered the toft with a bundle of new-cut coppiced poles carried between the two on slings. The poles were placed to dry upon a rack already near full with the product of their labor.

The day was grown warm. Richard wiped sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his cotehardie and eyed me with, I thought, some suspicion. I had caught out his brother poaching Lord Gilbert’s deer a year past, which would have been reason enough to end the family’s tenure as verderers to Lord Gilbert. This, as bailiff, I could have done, and there were some who aspired to the post who wondered that I did not. But Gerard had served Lord Gilbert well and, so far as I knew, so had Richard. Their worry would guarantee Walter’s future good behavior, so I thought. Nevertheless, my appearance in Alvescot now always drew apprehensive furrows across the family brows. This is not a bad thing. A man unsure of his position will work more diligently.