Mel Starr - A Corpse at St Andrew's Chapel

I set off in pursuit. Had I been older and wiser, I would have returned to my bed and told the beadle to watch for the man. Surely he would repeat the behavior. But I was intent on the chase. My purpose was to make haste so as to catch up to my quarry, but to do so quietly, so when I found him I might see what he was about without myself being observed. I was not successful.

The sleeping huts of Alvescot eventually materialized in the night, now dimly lit by the light of a waning moon. But there was no sign of him I pursued. I had missed him on the road. I assumed his goal was some place in field or forest between the village and Bampton, not Alvescot itself. But I decided to make one circuit of the village to learn if I might be mistaken and there be some hut where perhaps the glow of a cresset through the skin of a window or crack in closed shutters might indicate my quarry’s destination. There was no reason to fear discovery from beadle or hayward as Alvescot was too small, especially since the great dying, to employ either.

I felt no need for stealth, which was a mistake, but walked quietly through the village nevertheless. I had just passed the church and lych gate, opposite Gerard the verderer’s hut, when a scraping sound from the gate caught my attention. The gate lay ten paces or so behind me. I turned to investigate the source of the sound. The night was still, so what I heard could not have been the wind moving an unlatched gate on rusted hinges.

The lych gate was indeed securely latched. I leaned over the gate to peer into the churchyard. Another blunder. In so doing I presented my head as a target, much like a man who stretches his neck on the block to await the axe.

I detected movement from the corner of my eye but had no time to parry the blow which followed. I saw a tenebrous shape rise from a crouch behind the churchyard wall and with one motion bring a club down toward my head. All the stars and planets in their heavenly orbs flashed before my eyes. Then, inexplicably, they went dark.

When I awoke the sky to the east above the church tower was pale with approaching dawn. I was, I am sure, also pale, for a different reason. My head throbbed, my eyes refused to focus, and I felt a great lump on my skull just above my left ear. It is good that I follow the fashion much approved by young men of wrapping a long liripipe about my head. The layers of wool softened the blow somewhat, else I might have died there by the churchyard.

I managed to bring myself upright so much as to prop my back against the wall, at the base of which I had evidently spent the night. The cause of my headache lay beside me in the grass: a length of pollarded ash as long as a man is tall. Whoever laid this pole across my head had dropped it when it had served his purpose. I dragged the shaft across my knees and tried to inspect it but my eyes refused to converge. But ’twas light enough that I recognized where I had seen others like it. A stack of similar, longer poles lay across the street in Gerard’s toft, awaiting use as rafters for huts which might never be built for the decline in population after the plague, which has struck twice in thirteen years.

The pole had been cut several years earlier, I think, and was well dried and tough; much tougher than my skull, for the wood was unmarked whereas the same could not be said for my scalp.

I used the club for a crutch and, with both hands fixed to it, lifted myself to my feet. Doing so made the world sway before me, but with the stick I regained my balance and staggered off from Alvescot toward Bampton and the relief I might find in my store of soothing herbs.

Dawn was but a promise in the glow above the treetops, and the path was rutted. I stumbled and fell twice, and would have done so many more times had not the pole which was laid across my skull now served to keep me aright.

I met no man on the road to Bampton. The hour was early, and before the Angelus Bell few had yet crawled from their beds. But the sun was up beyond the spire of St Beornwald’s Church when the castle and town came into view. The walk in crisp morning air had restored my senses, so that I was able to approach the castle gatehouse with a surer step than when I began the journey at Alvescot.

The pole which laid me low having served its purpose, I was about to discard it against the castle wall when it occurred to my addled brain that a close inspection in good light might yield some clue as to who had attacked me and why. It might have, but did not.

Wilfred had the gate open and portcullis up. I stiffened my back and straightened my stride and passed through the gatehouse and castle yard with no man questioning a weaving path or halting gait.

I would be false, however, did I not admit to relief when I entered the hall and stood before my chamber door. I leaned the pole against the stones and was about to push open the door — a task which required two hands, for the hall was yet dim in the dawn light and my vision took that moment to again set all about me in a whirl — when I heard footsteps behind me in the hall.

I turned, too quickly. The movement, combined with lightheadedness, caused me to lose my balance. I staggered against the door, which provided no support but swung open. I ungracefully fell back into my chamber. For the next few days it was not only my head which was sore. My rump met the hard stone flags. I am of slender build. I had not John Kellet’s foresight to prepare an adequate cushion for such a tumble.

’Twas Alice atte Bridge, with a mug of ale and a loaf fresh from the castle oven, whose approach caused my clumsy fall.

“Oh!” the girl exclaimed. She set the platter on the flags of the hall and rushed to my aid.

I had set the pole leaning against the wall beside my door. But in my harried state I had set it slightly askew. As the girl knelt to assist me the pole slid from its place against the wall and fell through the open door. I had turned my head toward Alice, so did not see it coming. The club gave me a solid smack across my right ear before clattering off on the flagging. I was become symmetrical. Within the hour another lump, smaller than the first, appeared on my skull above the right ear to balance the bulge behind my left.

Alice assisted me to my feet. She had nearly to do so a second time, for in some heat I kicked at the offending pole. Another error. I was unsteady upon my feet and nearly found the flags again.

The girl propelled me to my bench, uttering solicitudes the while. I suspect she thought me drunk. It was just as well she not know the real reason for my condition. I sat gratefully upon the bench, and gathered my wits while Alice gathered my breakfast. My stomach rebelled at the sight of the loaf, but I needed the ale. I thanked the girl for her aid and bid her notify Thomas that I was unwell and wished not to be disturbed.

When she was gone and the door shut behind her I made my way to my cupboard. I found my pouch of hemp seeds and another of lettuce and mixed a double measure of each into the ale. My gut was not pleased to receive this physic. I feared the first swallow might be rejected. But not so. I drank the remaining mixture cautiously, then found my bed. When I awoke my stomach was growling with hunger and my chamber window was pale in the evening twilight.

My head throbbed, but my step was steady as I made my way to the kitchen. The cook had learned that I was unwell and had the foresight to prepare a basket should I desire a meal. But as this was Friday, and Ember Day, the basket held but a piece of fish and a small loaf of maslin. Alice was completing her duties in the kitchen and pointed me to my dinner. I wonder was it the cook who was so considerate, or Alice? I took the basket to my chamber and ate by candlelight.

I was not sleepy, though ’twas now dark and my stomach was full. My mind was occupied with considering who might have attacked me, and why, while my fingers and mouth were busy at supper.