Pip Vaughan-Hughes - Relics

"Where did you find such stuff?' I asked, at the same time marvelling how she seemed able to cram pig-meat and bread into her mouth and spill nothing on her clothes: my own were lamentably spotted with grease.

'There are enough clothes on the Cormaran to dress the court of Sicily,' she replied. 'The Virgin alone knows where they all came from – I suppose de Montalhac gives and takes them in trade. This silk is Syrian: rare stuff to you benighted Franks, but not to me. I've been rummaging, off and on, since we left Iceland, and there's all manner of strange costumes: Saracen, Moor, Roman, some silks so rich and wonderful even I was afraid to touch them.'

When we could not force down one more melting, silky mouthful we drained our goblets, threw some coins to the host and ducked back into the crowd outside.

I was full, fuller than I had been for months. I felt a little dizzy and a little sick, but also buoyed up on a wave of excitement, a rushing of blood about my limbs. I was breathing hard. I turned to Anna, and she met my gaze with her own level stare. I felt myself redden to the roots of my hair, and sweat broke out on my upper lip. I brushed at it distractedly. Anna rubbed a hand lazily over her greasy lips. 'Let us find a bed,' she said.

I followed her out of the street of cook-shops and into another busy thoroughfare. I had no idea where we were. The food had, it seemed, destroyed my sense of direction for the time being. No landmarks showed themselves in the narrow strip of black sky above us. Where was the Red Angel? Where, for that matter, was the river and the ship? I was lost in a strange town that had the air of an armed camp, and now, it seemed, I had to find a room in which two men could lie with each other in privacy. I needed another drink. I needed, all of a sudden, to postpone what I had yearned for since… since I had first heard her voice, or seen the gap in her teeth, or felt her body on mine in the warm heather. Long days of furtive touches and whispered promises in corners of the ship had not prepared me. I wished that Will were here. He, of all people, would know what to do.

'Let us follow them,' said Anna at my side. She pointed to a group of well-appointed soldiers, gentlemen to judge by their clothes and weapons, who, very drunk, were stumbling along, arms around each other's waists and shoulders, singing a lewd song I recalled from the lower taverns of Balecester.

'Those are fellows in search of a bawdy-house, or I know nothing of men,' Anna said, tugging at my sleeve. I shrugged.

Why a bawdy-house? I do not want a trollop.' I paused; there was a choice here, and I had to make the right decision. My mouth was dry as sand. 'I want you,' I told her.

I felt as if I had stepped off a high ledge with this admission, but Anna seemed oblivious.

'Perhaps I would like a trollop myself… a lusty young bravo has such desires, you know.' I laughed dubiously. You are playing games again,' I said.

'I am not! Why should you men have all the fun? I have worn breeches and pissed standing up for weeks. I am half a man now, I think. Perhaps more. Do you want to check?' I blushed and shuffled my feet, lost for words.

'Tra la! What would be the penance for that, Petroc, my priest?' 'For sodomy? Seven years,' I muttered.

She whistled. 'Seven years without Communion. How will we stand it?' She cocked a hip and winked. 'Come along, then.' I hesitated. 'Look,' she said. 'In a brothel flesh is paid for with money. If there is gold on the table, no questions are asked. If we pay, we will get a bed. If we pay a little more, we have never been seen.'

She was right, of course. I felt my blood rise despite myself. All I wanted was Anna, but the prospect of entering one of those places… All Will's stories flashed through my mind. I swallowed dryly. 'After you,' I said.

The men seemed to know where they were going – at least their leader did. A stocky man who wore a short-sword and a dagger, with a long pheasant feather in his hat, he bellowed out the coarse words in a strong North Country accent, turning now and again to urge his comrades on. We hung back, although I doubted any amongst this sorry crowd would notice were they being pursued by Beelzebub himself. Anna was muttering.

'Seven years. For two men doing it? How about for two women?'

I thought back to my lessons. The Decretum of Burchard of Worms, a terrifyingly detailed penitentiary full of sins I had never even dreamed existed, had been drummed into us in the Abbey. Now it came flooding back. 'Seven years for doing it with beasts,' I said. 'I don't want to do it with a beast, you odd man,' Anna said.

'Five years if a woman does it with another woman, I think. A year for wanking – for women. Less for men. That's lucky,' I added. Let me see. Two years for adultery-' 'Oh dear.' '-seven years if a man gives it to his wife up the arse-' 'Petroc!'

'-and for dorsal – that's with you on top – it's three years.' It felt good to rattle on like this: I was beginning to feel a little hysterical. 'From behind is three years too. And that's if we were married. Did you learn none of this when you were in Holy Orders? Now if…'

We may have to keep a tally,' Anna said. 'Now be quiet, O master of penances. They're turning.'

The street we now entered was crooked and barely wide enough for the men ahead of us to squeeze through three abreast. The houses all but met overhead, and from the shadowy eaves hung lamps whose flames shone through red glass. Our quarry had burst into a new song which extolled the praises of 'Rose Street', with much play on the plucking of roses, rosy petals and sweet nectar. The voices had a more urgent tone now. Then the group halted in front of a door. The leader knocked, exchanged words through a grille. Then the men filed in. The door clicked shut behind them. 'So here we are in Rose Street,' Anna said.

'Every city has one,' I said. Balecester's own Rose Street, street of the red lamps, had been down near the Crozier, and I had studiously avoided it, of course. I heard a rapping, and turned. Anna was knocking on another door. 'What are you doing?' I hissed. 'I think this one looks promising,' she replied, and knocked again. I tried to pull her away. 'Not yet,' I said desperately.

'No time for cold feet,' she sang. 'Or rather, let me warm those cold feet for you in a nice warm bed. How many years' penance is that, by the way?'

Then the door opened a crack and a bulbous nose appeared. A man's face followed, livid with burst veins. He looked us up and down through rheumy eyes. "Yes, noble gents?' he said at last. 'I…' I began.

We seek a little sport, my good fellow,' said Anna in her deepest voice. The man's eyes narrowed. Anna tapped the purse that hung from her belt. It clanked, the smug tone of gold upon gold.

'Oh, sport! That we have, that we have, dear lords,' said the man, his face lighting up. I was afraid more veins might burst. He threw open the door and ushered us inside.

A fire burned in a big fireplace, tables were scattered about, at which a few men sat with goblets before them. Women bustled about, fetching drinks and food. We might have been in an ordinary tavern, save that the women were all naked but for the elaborate headpieces that a few wore, and which made them look even more unclothed. Some were young, some not so young. I stood as if turned to stone. So many breasts, so many bums! And that patch of hair at the base of the belly: here thick, there sparse; dark on one, fair on another.

'What's the matter, brother, never seen a naked wench before?' said Anna from the corner of her mouth.

'No,' I hissed. It was true. And now here were… how many? Ten? Twelve? I almost crossed myself, such was my agitation.

A couple of women approached and took us by the hands, exclaiming over our youth and fine clothes, almost as if we were not present. They led us to a table. Anna ordered wine, and drew two bezants from her purse.