The Medieval Murderers - Hill of Bones

His dry tongue was cleaving to the roof of his mouth and his empty stomach was rumbling before he heard the noise of the bar being lifted from its sockets on the outside of the door. Almost blinded by the light of the early evening sun, he squinted as the welcome figure of Gytha was silhouetted in the doorway. Behind her, he saw the burly figure of William, one of the proctor’s men, who pushed her inside and slammed the door, though he did not replace the bar.

‘I’ll give you a couple of minutes, that’s all!’ he yelled from outside.

The plump goodwife of about thirty, another fair-haired Saxon, put a basket on the floor, then threw her arms around Eldred.

‘What have you been up to, you silly man?’ she cried, with an attempt to cover her distress with scolding bravado. ‘I’ve brought you a skin of ale and some bread and meat. Now tell me what’s been going on!’

They sat down side by side on the board and he explained how he had been unjustly accused of the theft.

‘It counts as sacrilege and a mortal sin!’ he wailed. ‘Unless I can prove my innocence, Prior Robert will probably hand me over to the sheriff, for it’s common knowledge that the Chapter despises us Saxon servants. Then I’ll hang, that’s for sure.’

Gytha tried to console him, saying that his status as a lay brother would protect him through ‘benefit of clergy’, but Eldred was pessimistic. ‘The bishop’s Court can’t hang me if they find me guilty, but they can choose to hand me over to the King’s men for sentence and execution.’

Again his wife tried to soothe him. ‘When I leave here, I’ll go straight to Selwyn and ask him for help. He’ll think of something!’

Selwyn was Eldred’s best friend – in fact, almost his only friend, for in the restricted orbit of his life, he was confined to work in the abbey for twelve hours a day and spent most of the remainder on his bed. Selwyn was a servant in the King’s House, a substantial residence built in the abbey precinct three years before by the new King John. The monarch rarely visited it, but used it when his country-wide perambulations brought him to this part of the West Country. More often, it was loaned to other favourites in his court, so a permanent staff was kept there and Selwyn was one of the two stewards who maintained it. Though not a Saxon himself, he had struck up a friendship with Eldred, who often visited him in the kitchen of the King’s House and shared a pot of ale and a gossip.

Before Gytha could elaborate on how Selwyn might be able to help, the door was flung open and William hustled her out. Before it was slammed shut again, she called out that she would bring him more food and drink in the morning.

Eldred ate and drank the simple fare that Gytha had brought. Then, though it was still early, he settled down on the hay in preference to the hard bed, more hopeful now that his faithful wife was seeking some aid for him.

When Gytha left her husband, she went straight to the King’s House to seek Eldred’s friend, Selwyn Vassel.

Gytha was a determined woman who loved her husband, and she was grimly set upon rescuing him from the unjust predicament in which he now found himself. She marched across the abbey yard beside the high wall that separated it from the bishop’s palace, which occupied the south-western corner of the precinct. This barrier turned sharply left to reach the abbey’s outer curtain wall. The King had built his house against this, almost opposite the West Front of the cathedral.

At the front of the house was a wide flight of steps leading up to the main door, used only by the King himself or his invited guests. Gytha used a small door for servants and tradesmen on the further side. This led into a scullery and storeroom, beyond which was a large kitchen, where Selwyn was usually to be found. As the house was presently unoccupied by any of the nobility, none of the other servants was present, his fellow steward being away visiting his parents in Cheddar.

Selwyn was a tall, erect man of forty years, with powerful shoulders and dark hair cropped short. He had a handsome and kindly face and as soon as Gytha entered, he jumped from his stool by the fire and sat her down opposite, giving her a pot of small ale to match his own. She hastily poured out her story and beseeched Selwyn to help his friend, swearing that he was innocent of the baseless accusation.

‘But they’ll hang him, I know!’ she wailed. ‘They have no idea who did this awful thing, but they need a scapegoat to satisfy the bishop.’

Selwyn did his best to soothe her agitation and promised to do all he could to help. Eventually he rose and went to the door.

‘You bide here, Gytha. I’m off to talk to people around the abbey and see what the latest news might be.’

He vanished, leaving the goodwife sitting anxiously by the small fire that burned in the hearth. When he returned half an hour later his face bore a grave expression, which further increased Gytha’s concern.

‘Virtually all the monks and servants have been searching the precinct, looking for the stolen vessels,’ he said. ‘This must be the only place they have not visited, as it is the King’s property.’

‘They found nothing? Have they been to our home?’

Selwyn nodded. ‘Yes, I spoke to one of the proctor’s bailiffs. Your dwelling was one of the first places they searched.’

‘It would take them no more than a minute to discover there was nothing in our part of that humble room,’ she said bitterly. ‘So what happens now?’

‘Eldred will be interrogated by the prior and other members of the Chapter this evening. Then if he does not confess and tell them where the treasure is hidden, he will be sent before the consistory court tomorrow.’ Selwyn sighed. ‘I know that Bishop Savaric is returning in the morning. I fear it will go badly with poor Eldred when he is hauled before him.’

Gytha sobbed quietly. ‘If they hand him over to the sheriff and his gang of ruffians, it will be the end of him. Maybe they will torture him to get him reveal where he put the stolen vessels – but how can he tell them what he does not know?’

The tall steward paced up and down the kitchen, where clean cooking pots and ladles awaited the next batch of guests.

‘We must get him out of the abbey and hide him until the real culprits are found. You go home now, Gytha, and stay quietly until I come to you with news. It is best if you know nothing of this; then you cannot be accused of being involved.’

She nodded mutely, trusting this good friend even with her husband’s life. As she went to the door to leave, she had one further question.

‘Can you do this alone, Selwyn? Can you not find help?’

He nodded. ‘Eldred has another good friend. I will ask Riocas to share this task.’

It was getting dusk when they eventually came for him. The two proctor’s men grabbed him by the elbows and hauled him off to the Chapter House, a semi-circular building attached to the back of the monks’ dormitory, near the south transept. This was where the abbey’s hierarchy met daily to settle their business, but this evening, only five of them were there when the guards hustled Eldred inside to stand before them. The half-circle of benches was empty and the interrogators sat on chairs on the low dais at the front, near the lectern from which a chapter of the Rule of St Benedict was read before each meeting, a ritual that gave the place its name.

Prior Robert, from his seat in the centre, began the proceedings.

‘You wretched man, tell us where you have hidden those sacred vessels!’ he demanded. Tonight, there was no trace of his usual oily benevolence, and he glowered at Eldred with a face like thunder. ‘We have searched everywhere, but there is no sign of them.’