Michael JECKS - The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

The sadness assailed him again and Piers’s mind turned to other things. He would have to stop with Elias and take a moment to speak to him, but the little band swept on, and it would have seemed disrespectful to the memory of Mary if he had tried to collar the older peasant.

He would have to talk to him later, Piers thought to himself as he followed the weeping Huward into the church itself. At the door he turned back, but instead of staring at Elias, his gaze went to Osbert. Osbert met his look for a moment, but then the young man turned and walked slowly back towards the mill.

It was much later that Ben walked into the house and spat at the floor when he realised there was no meal waiting. His parents were too taken up with grief to worry about mundane things like food. He wasn’t, though. He was starving. Hadn’t eaten since late morning.

He’d been supposed to go out and help Osbert with the hedging on Huward’s fields after the inquest, but he couldn’t be bothered. It wasn’t as though his father would punish him, not if he kept his head low, and he didn’t want to stand in a cold field, feet freezing to the soil, helping Osbert to cut part-way through branches until they could be bent back, fixing them in place by hooking them under stakes. They didn’t have to be enormously strongly held, because it was the ditch and high turf wall that held the animals in their pasture, but it was good to tidy up the hedges at the top, if only because it was a useful source of firewood.

No, hacking at a blackthorn hedge was not Ben’s idea of fun. Instead he’d gone to an ale-house on the Chagford road and drunk himself into a merry state as soon as the inquest was over. Not that the mood was going to last if he didn’t quickly find something to eat.

‘Come back, then, have you?’

‘Osbert! What are you doing, sneaking in like that? You should–’

‘You should hold your tongue, you should. I’ve been working while you’ve been out drinking again, haven’t you? While your sister was being taken to church, too – dead.’

‘Leave it, Osbert. I used up my grief when I heard she was dead.’

‘You managed to make it last a whole day?’

‘Very funny. I suppose you’ll keep it going for a good long while, won’t you? You’ll make up for any lack on my part.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘You couldn’t keep your eyes off her, could you? Always fancied her arse. Did you ever get a chance to feel her up?’

‘No, Ben, I didn’t. I wouldn’t have if I’d been given the chance, either. Because it’s not right that a man should do that to a woman outside of marriage.’

‘Oh, it’s all right, Os. If you want a woman,’ Ben continued, eyes open wide in innocence, ‘why don’t you go to see Anna at Jordan’s ale-house? I could give you a recommendation there. She’s very good. The way she wriggles her backside is–’

‘Be silent, you dunghill worm. You can treat me with contempt if you like, but on this day, when your sister’s being taken to her grave, the least you can do is go there to witness it. Why do you stand here chewing at my ears when you should be with your mother?’

‘Oh, by Christ’s passion! Give me strength to cope with a big man’s big heart. What good will it do Mary for me to be there? I grieved enough for her the day she died. There are other folk in church who’ll say prayers for her. Who knows, maybe even I shall sometime soon.’

‘You loved her before. Why do you hate her so much now?’

‘I didn’t love her. I never loved her. It’s different for you, you wanted her body: that lovely scut and her breasts like two great bladders waiting to be squeezed. And she’d have liked it too. It’s a shame you missed your chance. Losing her to a cleric! God’s blood, I wouldn’t have thought he had the life in his bone to satisfy her.’

Osbert had kept his patience, but he could feel it draining. ‘I respected your sister, that’s all,’ he said quietly. ‘And you should revere her now all you have is a memory.’

‘Ah, yes, a memory. Sad, you don’t even have that, do you? But I forgot! You did see her, didn’t you? I was there. I saw you follow her down to the stream when she went to bathe last summer. I was intrigued to see why you were walking so quietly down that path.’

‘I wasn’t walking quietly!’ Osbert spat. ‘You make this up. You imagine the worst you could do yourself, then think others might copy you.’

Ben continued as though Osbert hadn’t spoken. ‘I went after you, and I tiptoed, just like you did. You turned into the wood, and when you came to the river, where she was lying naked in the water, I saw you. I saw you fiddling with your tarse…’

‘I didn’t, you liar!’

‘All over the sight of my naked sister. Naughty, naughty Os.’

Unable to control his anger, Osbert leaped to catch Ben, but the smaller man slipped aside. Osbert felt a tingling in his arm as his momentum carried him onwards. When he stopped, he turned to catch at Ben again, but then he saw Ben had come around behind him, and now he stood with a dagger held ready, his head low in a fighting stance, eyes wary, alert to any movement.

‘Try that again, and you’ll get worse, Os,’ he said, pointing at a long cut on Osbert’s arm that dripped blood. ‘And you shouldn’t fear, anyway. I won’t say anything. I know you adored my sister, you even went to watch her in the river naked, and I saw what effect that had on you, but I won’t tell anyone. Why should I? I never liked her anyway. Bitch. It’s better that she’s gone. Especially since she seems to have been playing the whore herself. Think about it. You’re better off without her!’

‘She told me, you know!’ Osbert spat. ‘I know all about you.’

‘What?’ Ben demanded, waving his knife nearer Osbert, sweeping it back and forth.

‘You accuse me of lust, but it was you who tried to take her,’ Osbert spat.

The knife darted forward and Osbert had to slip to one side to avoid it.

‘You’re lying! She swore she wouldn’t… I didn’t touch her!’

Osbert laughed mirthlessly. ‘She swore she wouldn’t talk? She did. I know what you tried, boy !’

‘I didn’t try anything.’

‘Perhaps it wasn’t the monk killed her, eh? Maybe he just found her and thought…’ Osbert’s mouth fell open at the thought. ‘Did you kill her?’

‘Me? Why should I do a thing like that, eh?’

‘To silence her! To stop her telling people how you tried to make her sleep with you!’

‘No, and you’re mad to think it.’

‘You haven’t liked her since then, have you?’

‘It was the priest killed her. You’re just mad with jealousy of him . That’s why you’re making up this tale. You’re mad!’

Ben chuckled low in his throat. It sounded almost like a snarl. Then he cautiously stepped backwards, and sidled out through the door.

Osbert’s anger had left him now, and in its place was an emptiness. He should have defended her. He should have fought Ben for that foul assertion. As if any man could think that beautiful Mary was in any way a whore. If he heard Ben insulting her memory again, he’d kill him. Yes, and take the consequences.

Osbert remembered what he had said and shivered. The thought that Ben might go about spreading that story to others was fearful. He couldn’t deny it was true. That time, when he’d first seen her nude, it had snared his heart. She was so perfect, so beautiful. Small, but large-hipped and large-breasted, perfect.

If people realised just how badly Os had desired her, they might think he could have killed her after raping her. Ben would enjoy telling tales, spreading rumours. There was no point in it; it couldn’t do anything to benefit Ben, or anyone else, but it would cause pain and shame. Ben was right about one thing: Os didn’t want others to hear that tale. They would think that he wasn’t enough of a man to take Mary. That was shameful. Nearly as shameful as their thinking that he had taken her against her will.