The Merchant's Tale

by Ann Swinfen

  Margaret raised her eyebrows at that but I nodded, and murmured, ‘You stay with the children and I will see what is afoot. At least they have not set a fire this time.’

  ‘I cannot go to sleep with that bell clanging,’ Alysoun objected.

  ‘They will grow tired of it soon,’ I said, with more conviction than I felt.

  Before there could be any more arguments, I clattered down the stairs so fast I nearly extinguished my candle in the draught, then, lighting a lantern from it, I went out into the street. This time there were not such crowds as there had been before, since there was no sign of a fire which might endanger the town. There was no mistaking that the sounding of the bell was some sort of alarm or cry for help, but unless the town itself was threatened, I suspected that many of my fellow townsmen would shrug and return to their beds. If the priory was in trouble, then let the priory take measures to contain it.

  Even so, there were a few of us, running down in the direction of the priory, and this time it had needed no messenger to fetch the sheriff and his men, who caught up with me as I passed Oriel College, where a number of lighted windows showed that the Fellows there would get little sleep until a stop was put to the clamour. Indeed, as close to the priory as this, the noise was deafening and I realised that Oriel must needs endure the bell for Matins every night.

  ‘Wait,’ I said, seizing the sheriff’s stirrup leather. ‘Is this what we were discussing earlier?’

  He leaned down from the saddle. ‘It may be so. As you are in this to your chin, you had best come with me.’

  The narrowness of the street here had slowed his horse to a trot, so I was able to keep my hold of the leather and run alongside.

  The main gate of the priory stood wide open, and the porter lay sprawled beside it.

  ‘No coming in by a secret entrance here,’ I said, as Walden slid from his horse. ‘Have they killed the man?’

  Walden threw his reins to one of his officers and we bent over the porter. As well as my lantern, the night flares beside the gate were lit, and in the combined light we could see that the man’s eyes were open. He groaned and tried to sit up.

  ‘Stay,’ Walden said, pressing him down again. ‘I can see you’ve taken a blow. My men will look after you. Was it the Frenchmen who broke in?’

  ‘Nay,’ the man croaked. ‘No Frenchmen.’ Then, strangely, he began to laugh, a weak, hysterical laugh. ‘No Frenchmen. It was–’ He began to retch, then vomited, barely missing Walden’s feet.

  I realised that the bell had stopped ringing.

  ‘The church,’ I said, scrambling to my feet. ‘All the treasures are there.’

  ‘Look after this fellow,’ Walden called over his shoulder, and we both broke into a run, heading for the church.

  Before reaching it, we stopped dead. The door of the church was wrenched half off its hinges and hung askew, flung back against the wall. Light flowed out from within, showing a struggling mass of men just within the doorway.

  Walden turned and shouted for his men. ‘Here, to me.’

  It was a scene which seemed barely to make sense. A large number of townsmen, rough, dangerous looking fellows, were attacking the canons with fists and clubs. From all the signs – the candles lit along the choir stalls and on the altar, service books scattered on the floor – the canons must have been in the church celebrating Matins. Some were lying on the ground, senseless and bleeding. I saw Canon Fitzrobert, Sub-Prior Resham, and the cellarer, the man I had hoped to see in a few hour’s time. Few of the canons were young, yet they were struggling valiantly against their attackers. So at first glance it seemed to be what I had expected, another attack by the town on the priory, except that this time, instead of mischievous youths who started a fire and ran away, it was hardened men of violence, who looked ready to kill.

  Then I realised that what was strange was their leader. Clad in secular dress and wielding a sword in one hand and a heavy club in the other, was Prior de Hungerford, and he was bent on injuring or killing Canon Aubery. With a yell, I leapt forward and seized his sword arm as he raised his blade against Aubery. I must have taken him by surprise, but nevertheless he swung the club, aiming for my head.

  I ducked just in time, and felt the edge of it brush my hair. Then two of Walden’s men grabbed him from behind. I released his sword arm as the sword fell to the ground, while one of the soldiers twisted his other arm until he dropped the club. More of the intruders appeared from the direction of the dortoir, dragging two very elderly canons, who must be allowed to remain in their beds during the midnight services. One was bleeding from a gash in his temple, and both stumbled and staggered in confusion. At the sight of the soldiers, these new attackers dropped their hold of the old men, and tried to run for the gate, but they were caught and held before they could reach it.

  Some time later, all the canons, together with Walden and me, and two of his senior men, were gathered in the infirmary of the priory, where the present infirmarian and his predecessor were treating the wounded. The three worst of the injured we had found lying at the church door were still unconscious, and the porter kept vomiting, but the remaining wounds were mostly minor, although the two old men from the dortoir were badly shaken. Someone had found some red wine and doled it out to both the victims and the rescuers.

  Francis Aubery came to sit beside me on a bench against the wall, and sank down with a sigh. He put his head in his hands.

  ‘I thank you, Nicholas, for saving me from a beating, or worse. It was brave of you to rush in like that, unarmed, but foolish. You could have been killed.’

  ‘So might you. I do not understand what has happened here.’

  Walden pulled up a stool and joined us.

  ‘Your medical men think that all will recover, although the three worst may take some time.’

  Aubery raised his head and gave a weak smile. ‘Our present infirmarian has little medical knowledge. He holds the position only because de Hungerford has made it his practice to move us from pillar to post, so that no man may become too secure in his position and his knowledge of what it requires of him. Fortunately, our previous infirmarian, Canon Younger, is indeed a skilled physician, so we may rely on his opinion.’

  ‘As I heard Nicholas saying,’ Walden said, ‘we do not understand what has been afoot here. These men came in through the gate, then? Let in by the prior?’

  ‘Nay,’ Aubery said, ‘from what I can gather from poor Donster – our porter – de Hungerford came with the men from the town, demanded entrance, as was his right. But when the other rogues tried to enter, Donster did his best to stop them, and it was the . . . the prior himself who clubbed him down.’

  He could hardly bring himself to speak de Hungerford’s title.

  ‘You were at Matins?’ I said.

  ‘Aye, we were just beginning the service. Because of the earlier trouble at the fair, and our worries about the thefts, we have been keeping the church door locked, even during services.’

  ‘And de Hungerford was not presiding at the service?’ Walden asked, in a puzzled voice.

  Aubery gave a grim smile. ‘He rarely attended service, sheriff. He has been living a life quite separate from the rest of us, almost since the day he arrived. It was Sub-Prior Resham who was leading the service. The first we knew of what was happening was when we heard the attack on the door, the splintering of the wood and the tearing of the hinges.’ He paused. ‘They sought principally to attack the sub-prior and me, of course, since we had been responsible for removing everything of value to the church. They were bent on stealing it.’

  ‘So they were not deterred by the holiness of the place of sanctuary,’ I said.

  ‘They were not.’

  Aubery turned to me. ‘How do you come to be here, Nicholas? I can understand Sheriff Walden and his men, but you?’

  ‘The ringing of your bell woke me, even as far away as the High Street, though I think I was not deep asleep. It was well thought on, to ring the bell.’

&n
bsp; ‘I do not even know who rang it,’ Aubery said. ‘There was the splintering of the door, and then they were upon us. I believe we were fighting for our lives.’

  ‘So I believe also,’ Walden said, ‘and I can tell you who thought to ring the bell. It was your steward. He was woken in his quarters by the breaking of the door, and ran straight for the bell rope, like a man of good sense. It would have been impossible for you to fight off this party of rogues if we had not been warned by its tolling.’

  ‘Then we owe our lives to him,’ Aubery said soberly, ‘as well as to you.’

  ‘And they committed this act of sacrilege,’ I said, ‘as well as attempted murder, purely to steal the priory’s treasures? And under the leadership of Prior de Hungerford? It seems almost past belief. Is the man deranged?’

  ‘Sometimes I think he must be. He was shouting during the fight, something about how we had no right to confiscate his church silver and his library of books.’

  Canon Aubery twisted his hands together in distress. ‘Yet we were only trying to keep them safe.’

  ‘Of course you were,’ I said, ‘and so you have done. The rogues never reached them, did they?’

  He shook his head and I turned to the sheriff. ‘Where are the villains now, and where is the prior?’

  ‘The villains from the town I have sent off to be confined up in the castle,’ he said. ‘De Hungerford is locked in a chamber in the prior’s house here at St Frideswide’s, with two of my men guarding him.’

  He ran his hands through his hair. ‘It is a difficult matter. Since it took place on Church property, but most of the attackers are from the town, which one is the competent authority? As for Prior de Hungerford, I suppose an ecclesiastic’s attack on his own church and canons must be a matter for the Church. However, Bishop Glyndwelle is away at the heart of his see in Lincoln, or at least I suppose he is. In the morning I will send a messenger to him, with details of what has happened here, but we cannot expect to hear from him for some days. In the meantime I propose to keep de Hungerford locked up here, but under my guard, if there is no objection from the priory?’

  Aubery shook his head. ‘I cannot think there will be.’

  He glanced across the room to the four beds where the porter and the three most injured canons were lying.

  ‘Normally, it would be Sub-Prior Resham who would take charge in the absence of the prior, but until he is able . . . I think we will meet in Chapter tomorrow and decide how best to carry on. We must not forget that there are still three more days of the fair to run, with dozens of merchants here to do business, and hundreds of folk come to buy, some of them gentlefolk, who have travelled a distance to be here.’

  As he spoke, a sudden thought struck me with such force that I half started from my seat.

  ‘The prince!’ I cried. ‘Edward of Woodstock! Is he not still staying in the priory? He is not harmed?’

  Walden patted my arm. ‘No need to fear for him, Nicholas, though if my men had not stopped him, he would have been there, in the thick of the fighting.’ He laughed. ‘What a man! What a prince! He was hardly more than a child when he won his spurs at Crécy. The French cower before him. His men would follow him into the jaws of Hell if he said, “Onward”. And when a band of Oxford ruffians sets upon a group of defenceless canons, the Prince of Wales buckles on his sword over his night shift and comes roaring in. Barefoot.’

  ‘In his night shift?’ I said.

  ‘In his night shift.’

  I grinned. ‘Indeed, what a man! What a prince!’

  It was a cheering thought on which to end the night. Though to tell truth, it was nearly dawn. It was cause for relief, too, that the attempt to steal the priory’s treasures, quite likely at the cost of several lives, had been frustrated, and the perpetrators now all held under lock and key. What would the Church do about de Hungerford? The usual practice was to draw a veil of secrecy over any misdemeanours committed within the purview of the Church, to keep out prying secular eyes, but in this case an attack had been made upon other churchmen and upon Church property. Moreover, laymen had been involved, and the secular hand of justice had saved lives and property. It was a bewildering tangle. I hoped Bishop Glyndwelle was a man of exceptional ability and shrewdness.

  By the time Walden and I left the infirmary, the porter was looking better, sitting up and sipping red wine under the stern supervision of one of the infirmarians. The three more serious cases seemed more at ease, as though they had slipped from the unconsciousness due to injury to a more natural, healing sleep. Walden and I crossed the outer court together, both of us now given to fits of yawning. The main gate was closed and barred, but it was guarded by two of the men from the castle, who opened the wicket for us, and we stepped through.

  ‘Ah, he’s still here, the poor fellow,’ Walden said, slapping his horse’s shoulder affectionately. Someone had hitched him to a post beside the gate, and he blew a moist greeting into his master’s ear.

  I held Walden’s stirrup for him as he mounted.

  ‘What puzzles me,’ I said, looking up at him in the flickering light cast by the gateway torches, ‘is that this seems to have nothing to do with Frenchmen, secret entrances, or the murder of Hamo Belancer. Can there be two plots afoot to steal the priory’s treasures?’

  ‘That, my dear Nicholas, we have yet to discover. There was nothing either secret or French about this attack. It was good open English villainy.’

  He turned his horse. ‘God give you good night, what is left of it.’

  ‘And to you, Cedric.’

  I shivered. I had no cloak. Somewhere in the confusion I had lost my lantern. I would need to walk briskly on the way home.

  The following morning Alysoun woke me in her favourite way, by jumping on my stomach. I groaned and threw my arm over my eyes. It seemed that the women in my family were unwilling to let me sleep once they were astir themselves.

  ‘What is afoot?’ I croaked. Truly, I hardly seemed to have seen my bed.

  ‘Aunt Margaret says you will take us to the fair today.’

  I struggled to sit up, and Rowan placed her front paws on my chest to hold me down flat on my back. When had the small puppy grown so much?

  ‘I have an errand at St Frideswide’s Priory first,’ I said. ‘Then we will go.’

  Pushing the dog down from my chest, I managed to sit up.

  ‘Why do you want to go to the fair, my pet? To purchase some lengths of French brocade to make a new gown? Some embroidered gloves, perhaps, for your next visit to the king’s court?’

  She giggled. ‘Of course not. I want to see the tumblers. And Jonathan told Rafe there is a dancing bear. Can a bear truly dance?’

  ‘Well, a few clever bears can shuffle about a little, while their master plays a pipe. Not what I would call true dancing, such as you might see at a wedding, or on Twelfth Night or May Day. Still, I suppose it is remarkable that a poor dumb beast can do even that. Rowan could not.’

  ‘Rowan is not a poor dumb beast!’ she said indignantly. ‘She is the cleverest dog in Oxford! Do you not remember how she found her way home, when she was just a tiny puppy?’

  ‘Then if she is so clever, perhaps you can train her not to pin me down with my bedclothes. And you can train her not to sleep on your bed. I found her there again last night. She should sleep down in the kitchen.’

  ‘Oh, but she would be so lonely all by herself there at night. And besides,’ she added cunningly, ‘she keeps me warm, and it will soon be winter.’

  Rafe wandered in, half dressed and dragging his cotte behind him by one sleeve. ‘Are we really going to see the dancing bear?’

  ‘We shall never go to the fair if I am not permitted to dress,’ I said. ‘Alysoun, help Rafe put on his cotte, then both of you go to your breakfast. I needs must go out first. After that, we shall see about the fair, if Aunt Margaret tells me you have been good and have helped her while I am out. She has been working very hard, and we want her to have a rest today.’

/>   Once they were gone, I crawled reluctantly from under the bedclothes. Had I had even as much as two hours’ sleep? My head ached and my eyes felt as though they had been doused in sand.

  Down in the kitchen, I thought Margaret looked as tired as I felt, though she had had more sleep than I, for when I returned from the battle at the priory she had gone back to bed, leaving a candle lantern lit for me in the shop. Though, to be sure, we had earlier in the evening both been late abed after I came back from Belancer’s house.

  ‘I will take as little time as I may,’ I said, hurriedly eating a slice of bread and cheese, without pausing to sit down. Tired as she was, Margaret had already baked the morning’s loaves. ‘I need only speak briefly to the cellarer at the priory, no more than a few minutes.’

  I drank my ale quickly, and wiped my mouth.

  ‘Will you not tell me what was afoot last night, with all the clanging of the bell?’ Margaret said. ‘You were a long time returning.’

  I glanced at Alysoun, who was listening eagerly, and I remembered she had been woken by the bell. Rafe was busy slipping bits of bread to Rowan under the table.

  ‘Later,’ I said. ‘All was settled, but it took some while. Cedric Walden arrived at the same time as I did.’

  Before Alysoun became too inquisitive, I hurried out, catching up my cloak from its peg on the wall. Now we were so near the end of October, I would need it. The stallholders at the fair would be cold today, standing still for hours, with little protection from the wind. I was glad Mary Coomber had insisted on a booth for her little enterprise.

  As I left, I saw Walter and Roger both approaching and stopped to speak to them.

  ‘I must call at the priory, then I am taking the children to the fair. There is not a great deal to do in the shop today, and with no customers to serve, you may go to the fair yourselves, if you wish.’

  Roger brightened. ‘Aye, I should like that. They say ’tis bigger this year than ever, at least since I was a boy.’