The Medieval Murderers - Hill of Bones

A chorus of, ‘Yes, it is here. Hallelujah! This is the place!’ burst out of many throats.

Ursula edged a little closer. Her groom put a warning arm out to try to stop her, but she was used to getting her own way and moved resolutely to a distance where she could hear more clearly. Her companions, with nervous giggles, followed her.

The leader of the band was a tall man, with high prominent cheekbones and a mass of thick black hair that hung in lank elflocks onto his shoulders. He was dressed simply in a grubby white robe that almost resembled that of a monk, save that his left shoulder and arm were bare and about his waist was a blue cord dyed to almost the same hue as the summer sky above him.

His voice rang out once more. ‘This is the place where the legions of darkness meet the army of light. This is the very hill where demons and angels wrestle for the future of the world. Abraham and Isaac, Moses, even our Lord Himself, were all led to the hill tops and there put to the test for the very salvation of the world. We have been led here to serve a great purpose in the divine plan, a purpose that He will make known to us. Here we shall set up camp and wait for the vision to be revealed to us.’

A great cheer went up from the crowd. Their leader turned away, firmly clasping his hands behind his back, and appeared to be contemplating the great sweep of the valley that lay below him. The crowd waited for a few minutes, but no more words came from him.

Finally one of their number, a broad squat youth with arms like an ape, jumped up and gesticulated wildly at them. ‘Well, you heard the prophet, make camp, quickly now.’

Everyone scrambled to their feet and, as if following a familiar routine, began their chores. Some started to dig fire pits, others gathered kindling or searched for herbs for the pot. With somewhat more reluctance, a few armed themselves with water-carriers and darted miserable glances at each other when they realised the only visible source of water was the distant river at the bottom of that very steep hill.

Seeing some of the men arming themselves with bows and arrows and with slingshots for hunting, the falconer rushed forward with his baited lure, whirling it about his head and whistling in a desperate attempt to bring the merlins down before this pack of lunatics started firing.

All the girls hurried back towards their horses, except Ursula, who did not move. She was still staring at the back of the white-robed figure who stood gazing out over the edge of the hill.

‘He’s calling you, is he?’ a voice murmured in her ear.

She jumped at finding the little ape-armed youth by her elbow. Up close, Ursula thought, he looked even more like a monkey. His arms were covered in a thick mat of red hair and, judging by the bush escaping from the top of his coarse shirt, she rather suspected his body might be equally hairy.

She flushed, taking a few steps back. ‘Calling me?’

‘I was the first disciple he called and I’ve been with him ever since. Not everyone who wants to come with him can. He knows who’s been chosen by God and only they can join him.’ He lifted his head with evident pride.

‘I can’t imagine anyone wanting to join him. I should think those who haven’t been chosen are very much relieved.’ Ursula said it with every intention of wounding, but the ape-boy didn’t seem to take offence.

‘You might say that now, but wait till you see the miracles he performs.’

‘So he can do a few tricks, can he? I’ve seen conjurors at the fairs bring dead toads to life and make coins disappear.’

‘Ah,’ the lad said, ‘but have you seen them capture demons in front of your very eyes or pull a venomous worm from a man’s skull that was tormenting him with agonising pain. My master is a holy prophet. He was captured by a fierce band of murderous pirates that bound him hand and foot, and carried him off on their ship to sell as a slave. So he conjured a great storm that cracked the ship open on the rocks and every wicked man aboard perished, but though he was bound fast, he calmed the waves and floated ashore as safe as a babe in its cradle.’

Ursula snorted. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I swear, on the Holy Virgin’s crown, that I saw it with my own two eyes. Stood on the shore and watched it, I did. And so did the whole village, including the priest. There’s not a man, woman or child in Brean who doesn’t know him for a holy man and prophet. I tell you, he’s been sent to save us all.’

The young man’s blue eyes shone with such a radiance of belief that it seemed as if a candle was burning behind them. Ursula, for all that she was trying to sound unimpressed, felt her pulse quicken, as her eyes were drawn once more to the tall figure who had not moved so much as a muscle, despite all the bustle and noise behind him. The breeze tugged the folds of his robe and blew his long black hair out behind him so that suddenly he seemed the very image of a carving she had seen in a church, of Moses standing on top of the mountain holding the tablets of stone.

‘What is his name?’ she asked without taking her gaze from the figure.

The youth leaned closer to her as if he was imparting a great secret. ‘His holy name is Serkan. It means leader, a leader anointed in blood.’

It was dark now. William drew his cloak tighter about his shoulders, trying not to shiver. The sun had sucked the heat from the earth as it set, taking back the warmth it had lent it, and the breeze whipping up from the valley seemed to carry all the chill of the cold river in it. Stars, like tiny shards of ice, hung in the black sky and the blades of grass turned the colour of steel in the moonlight.

Martin had come running as soon as he’d seen the pinpoints of orange and yellow light winding their way up the valley towards the hill. But William had already seen them. That was why he’d chosen this place. It was like having his own castle. No walls to be sure, but no forest of trees or narrow alleys where someone could lie in wait. All these weeks he’d had no sign that Edgar had followed him from Brean, but somehow that only made him more nervous, as if Edgar were lying out there somewhere, gathering his strength, waiting until William relaxed his guard before he struck.

William felt a little safer up here, where he could see danger coming. But those lights were nothing to fear. Those torches did not belong to an angry mob. The procession was too slow and orderly. They were bringing the mad and sick with them, not sticks and swords. Those giggling girls and their servants had clearly wasted no time in spreading the word in Bath about his arrival.

He felt his blood throbbing through his body with a thrill that was almost like bedding a beautiful woman. He understood now what it felt like to be a great minstrel. There was the trepidation that tonight you might not be able to deliver, that this time your talents might fail you, but stronger by far was the thrill of anticipation, knowing that success would bring adulation.

It was as if at first he had been only a player in costume, an actor in one of the great Mystery Play tableaux such as they had at York. But now he was becoming that very person. He no longer had to pretend to sense the demons in the bodies of those that came to him, he could feel them. In his dreams he really saw the visions of which he spoke, and almost… almost he was beginning to believe that all the events in his life had been leading to this. He had, after all, been saved from the raging sea; surely that meant that he had been chosen for some great task.

He had not set out to attract a following. Nothing had been further from his mind. His only intention had been to get away from Brean as quickly as possible. But with no money to buy decent lodgings, one night he and Martin had found themselves camping on the heath with a band of holy beggars who tramped from town to town begging for themselves and the poor, with their cry of, ‘Bread, for God’s sake.’ The beggars had generously shared their food with the pair, and it was rich pickings too, for townsfolk feared the beggars’ curses as much as they desired a blessing from them that would bring them luck.