Michael JECKS - The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

‘Dean Peter and I demand that you release him to us.’

Dean Peter met Baldwin’s sharp glance with a mild smile, but said nothing.

Sir Baldwin turned his attention back to Roger Scut, but now his face, without changing expression, seemed to Roger to have taken on a deeply malevolent appearance, and the clerk took an involuntary step backwards, bumping into Mark.

‘Roger, I shall do my duty as seems fit to me. I shall not be bent by you like a straw in the wind, but will obey the instructions of my Lord the King, and of the law.’

‘Dean Peter, please persuade the Keeper that we should be permitted to take this fellow back to Exeter. I doubt very much that the Bishop will be content to hear that his will and authority has been flouted by a… a knight.’

Baldwin’s features became glacial as Dean Peter cleared his throat. Roger Scut looked about to retreat still further, but then Baldwin was surprised to see the pompous little arse stiffen his shoulders, raising his head and returning Baldwin’s look with determination.

‘You don’t scare me, Sir Knight. I am a man of God.’

‘Roger, please,’ Dean Peter remonstrated with a hint of annoyance. ‘Sir Baldwin, my friend here has a point, if he perhaps lacks a little of the wit to explain it fully and politely.’

‘He does!’ Baldwin growled. ‘I won’t listen to his whining about this any further. Godwen, I told you to find a horse, I believe?’

As Godwen hurried from the room, Dean Peter took a deep breath. ‘Sir Baldwin, you know that this man must surely be returned to the Bishop’s court as soon as it is shown that he is a man of God? What use is served by taking him all the way back to Dartmoor, deciding he is a priest, and then making the same journey back here again? It is foolish, surely.’

‘You know that the law says I have to see him taken back,’ Baldwin said. ‘I can do nothing else.’

‘If I am taken back they will kill me!’ Mark said. ‘Please, Dean, protect me! I cannot go back there. The father will kill me. Who would believe my story when they have my lover’s body?’

‘What is your story?’ Baldwin pressed. He was standing now, and bellowed for the host to come and serve wine.

‘I was there with her…’ Mark shot a glance at the Dean. ‘Father, please do not judge me. I have never done anything before which could cause me so much shame. Never before have I failed in my vows. It was that horrible place. All I ever wanted was to serve God in Exeter, maybe to travel, but I was sent to Gidleigh instead.’

‘You were being tested,’ Dean Peter agreed, adding pointedly, ‘and you failed.’

Mark winced as though Dean Peter had slapped him. He held his hands to his face, and the Dean saw how dreadfully scratched and scraped they were. ‘I know, I know it too well. I grew to desire the women, and even hearing their voices was enough to inflame my passions. I started building a wall just to occupy myself, exhausting myself to keep my thoughts pure, but it failed. I begged and pleaded with God to release me from my lusts, but He didn’t answer me. And then I met her .’

‘Who?’ Dean Peter asked.

‘Mary, daughter of the miller. She showed me kindness and calmed my fears, and when she also soothed my loneliness, I got her with child, God help me!’

‘She is dead,’ Baldwin stated flatly. ‘And you bolted.’

‘I spoke with her that day. She had told me a while before about our child, but I didn’t believe her. It was impossible, I thought, but she swore that her monthly days had stopped. Then I saw that she was growing large, and I knew she had told me the truth. On the day she died, I spoke with her, and we parted in anger. Later, I walked back that way, and found her lying dead. Dead! Someone had struck her down and killed her, and our child with her. I didn’t know what to do!’

‘You mean you didn’t strike her?’ Baldwin asked, thankfully accepting a cup of wine. ‘You should have called the vill to arms, raised the Hue and Cry.’ He sipped and grimaced. ‘This tastes of the midden! Bring a cup of the other barrel.’

‘I knew I should be accused and die.’

Dean Peter nodded. ‘Because you might be thought guilty of murdering her to stop news of the child.’

‘It is not unheard of,’ Baldwin agreed, musing. ‘Often a priest will try to punch his woman to kill the new life just growing. And sometimes the woman will die as well.’ He frowned at Mark. ‘Is that what you did?’

‘I swear I am innocent of intending her death.’

‘Did you hit her to make her miscarry?’

‘Yes – no ! I don’t know! All I remember is, she struck me, and I struck her back, and then I left her.’

‘You knocked her down? You struck her on the belly and she fell?’ Baldwin said keenly.

Mark couldn’t answer. He had fallen to his knees, hands back at his face as he knelt, weeping, shaking his head. ‘I hit her, but not in the belly – and I didn’t kill her. I couldn’t! I loved her.’

‘Many men who love have killed their wives,’ Baldwin observed unsympathetically. ‘Did you see her fall after you struck her?’

‘No, no, she just turned away from me, and I was angry, bitter… I don’t know… I just walked away to cool down, and think. I had to pray for help and forgiveness. But she didn’t come past me and when I returned along that way to talk to her again, I found… I found…’

‘Her lying dead,’ Baldwin said flatly.

‘Blood on her legs, and she was so still,’ Mark said in a small voice, shivering at the memory.

‘You spoke with her,’ the Dean murmured. ‘What of?’

Mark bowed his head. ‘I desired her to take a potion I had acquired. It promised to end the pregnancy.’

‘You said you spoke to her and left her angrily,’ Baldwin said as the Dean’s face set like granite on hearing Mark’s crime. ‘Was that because she refused to take the potion?’

‘I loved her, I didn’t want to hurt her , only the baby!’

‘A potion like that will often kill the mother as well as the child,’ Baldwin said coldly.

‘If you take me back there, I shall be slaughtered! Please don’t take me back!’

‘You should have thought of that before you tried to make your woman miscarry!’

‘Come, Sir Baldwin,’ Dean Peter said after a moment. ‘Won’t you please let us take him to Exeter? Look at him! He is in danger, he says. I would be reluctant to see him strung up by angry villagers. No matter how foul, nor what, his crimes. Surely he may be quite right to fear for his life?’

‘No. You know I cannot set him free.’

‘Then I shall ride with him to this outlandish place,’ Roger Scut said. He gave Baldwin a look which expressed only distaste. ‘If the good knight won’t protect this poor priest, I shall do it myself and see that no harm comes to him. I will shield him with my own body.’

Baldwin eyed him wonderingly. ‘Why? What do you seek?’ he wondered aloud.

‘I seek nothing for myself, only to serve the best interests of this unfortunate.’

‘I thank you, friend,’ Mark said. He was weeping, and he humbly held his hands up towards Roger Scut in gratitude.

Baldwin grunted. He had intended to be home last night. Into his mind flashed a picture of his wife sitting at his great fire, the light gleaming in her red-gold hair, shining on her tip-tilted nose, sparkling in her green eyes. It was a most appealing scene, the more so because in it there was no place for Roger Scut.

‘Won’t anyone believe me?’ Mark wailed. ‘I didn’t mean to kill her. I loved her. I couldn’t have done that to her!’

‘Done what?’ Baldwin demanded harshly, brought back from his mild daydream with a jolt.