The Tainted Coin hds-5

by Mel Starr

  I could not recline, not with an arrow protruding from my back, nor could I sit, resting against the church wall. I gripped the lychgate with both hands, directed Arthur to take Osbert to the church, then slid to my knees as dizziness overcame me.

  Arthur was loath to deal with Osbert while I yet held a shaft through my body, and protested, but I told him I would need his full attention to deal with my wound, and it would be best to lay Osbert out where he would be safe while the arrow was dealt with.

  Arthur grimaced agreement, hoisted Osbert to a shoulder, and set off for the church porch at a trot. Osbert remained unconscious, but I could do nothing for him, pierced as I was.

  I did not notice Arthur’s return, but suddenly he was standing above me. “What am I to do?” he asked.

  “Help me to the church. Then you must find wine and remove the arrow.”

  I threw my good right arm over Arthur’s neck and together we stumbled through the churchyard to the porch. Arthur had left the church door open, and I saw Osbert flat upon the stones of the floor as we entered.

  “How am I to remove the arrow?” Arthur asked.

  “Take first your dagger and cut through the arrow near where it enters my back. Try not to shift it much.”

  Arthur drew his dagger from his belt and I winced as he grasped the shaft and began to whittle through it. The pain sent me to my knees and the fog before my eyes appeared again. Then I heard the arrow snap and fall to the flags, and Arthur said, “Done.”

  When I could catch my breath I told Arthur I must lie down, or I would collapse when he drew the arrow. I lay on my right side, told Arthur to be certain there were no splinters where he had hewn the shaft in two, then told him to grasp the point and pull the arrow through.

  He did so, and all went black before my eyes, but I heard him say, as from some distance beyond the lychgate, “There… ’tis out.”

  A deep, overwhelming ache replaced the sharp agony of Arthur’s pulling the arrow through my chest. The blackness before my eyes began to clear. I saw the stones of the floor, and my wits began to return.

  “You must seek wine, to bathe my wounds and Osbert’s,” I said.

  “Where am I to find wine in such a place? Perhaps…”

  Arthur’s hesitation caught my attention. He had been kneeling at my side, but scrambled to his feet as a distant voice spoke.

  “Who is here?” a man said. “Is that blood I see spotting the porch?”

  With the removal of the arrow, blood again flowed from my side. I tried to call out, but Arthur saw and clapped his hand over my mouth. He thought, he said later, that men from East Hanney had followed us.

  The day was cloudy, and the windows of the old church were few and narrow, so the man spoke again before he saw us. “What man is in my church?”

  It was the village priest who spoke. As he did so he saw Osbert; then Arthur, standing, caught his attention.

  “What has happened to this man?” he asked Arthur. “Does he live, or is he dead?”

  “Dunno,” Arthur replied. “Been too busy with Master Hugh to notice.”

  “Master Hugh? The fellow at your feet? What affliction is here? This man,” he said, glancing to Osbert, “is all bloodied.” The priest’s eyes were becoming accustomed to the dim church interior. “Is this your work?”

  “Nay,” Arthur replied. “That is Osbert. His lord has flogged him near to death, an’ would’ve had his neck in a noose had we not freed him. Then, as we fled the village, an archer put an arrow into Master Hugh’s back, an’ he lays here, near dead also. He’s asked for wine, to bathe ’is wounds, an’ Osbert’s. Have you any?”

  “Wine? Oh, yes… and some for Extreme Unction. Have these men received Extreme Unction?”

  “Nay,” I managed to whisper. “Nor will I be this day.”

  After receiving last rites the Church considers a man as good as dead, even should he mend. I had no desire to recover from my wound but to fast perpetually, go barefoot at all seasons, and never again lie with Kate.

  The flags were cold. I began to shiver, and Arthur saw.

  “We must take Master Hugh and Osbert someplace where they may be warmed,” he said to the priest, “and remove Master Hugh’s bloody kirtle and cotehardie.”

  But that was not yet to be. Before the priest could reply, I heard the hooves of several horses. The priest had left open the door to the porch. The horses were reined to a halt at the church wall, near the lychgate, where Bruce and the palfrey were tied, and I then heard men’s voices, one shouting louder than the others, although I could not hear clearly his words. I did not need to. I was certain we had been pursued from East Hanney, and Sir Philip Rede now stood at the lychgate with his men, ready to finish his work with Osbert, and me also.

  Arthur understood this as well, and looked open-mouthed from me to the church door, awaiting some command.

  Before I could summon my wits the priest turned and hastened to the porch to see who had arrived so noisily. I saw him glance through the open door and heard him mutter some indistinct oath. Then he did a surprising thing. He slammed the church door closed and slid the bolt to fix it shut in the face of Sir Philip — if indeed it were he who a moment later pounded upon the door and demanded admittance.

  “Why did you not say ’twas Sir Philip Rede you had fled?” the priest asked Arthur.

  “You didn’t ask,” he replied. “You know the man?”

  “Aye. A blackguard, was ever one born of woman. He was to hang this one, you say?”

  “Aye. An’ he comes through that door he’ll do it, an’ finish off Master Hugh, as well.”

  “He’ll not do so,” said the priest. He looked down upon me, where I shivered upon the stones. “Do you claim sanctuary?” he asked.

  “Aye,” I managed to whisper between rattling teeth. “I do.”

  If Sir Philip had been a powerful lord he might scorn violating sanctuary and the threat of excommunication. But a poverty-stricken minor knight will think twice before hauling a man from a church before the allotted forty days have passed.

  Sharp pounding again reverberated through the heavy oaken church door. Sir Philip hammered upon it with some hard object, perhaps the pommel of his dagger. At the same time he shouted a demand that the door be opened. This continued for some time, but none of us in the church made reply.

  When Sir Philip grew weary of beating upon the door, the priest called out to him.

  “Who do you seek?”

  “My villein,” came the reply, “and the men who stole him from me.”

  “They claim sanctuary,” the priest shouted.

  To this there was no immediate answer. Sir Philip was unprepared for this announcement. I imagined what he was thinking. For forty days he would need to station guards at the church door to see we did not escape.

  Osbert moaned. While unconscious he had been free from pain. If he regained his senses this would no longer be so. My sack of instruments and herbs was in Abingdon, at the New Inn. The church provided sanctuary, but was also a jail from which I could not escape to seek help for Osbert or myself.

  I heard voices once more beyond the church door, and saw the priest turn his attention there again. I could not hear what was said, for the words spoken were not from voices raised in anger.

  The priest said a few words through the closed door, then opened it a crack and another robed figure slipped through. As soon as this man entered the church the priest shoved the door closed again.

  This newcomer and the priest exchanged a few muttered words, then the fellow walked off toward the tower. A few moments later I heard the church bell ring for the noon Angelus. The new man was the priest’s clerk.

  I called out to the priest when the bell was silent. I needed a pallet for Osbert, and wine, to cleanse his wounds and my own. The clerk could come and go freely and could bring these things. And another scheme was forming in my mind. I had no wish to stay forty days in All Saints’ Church, my whereabouts unknown to any who could he
lp to extricate me and Arthur from this confinement.

  The priest, I learned, was Father Maurice. He listened while I told him of our needs, and agreed to send his clerk for the items. I asked for three pallets, if they could be had, wine, and a pouch of whatever herbs he might possess. The priest had lettuce seed and a vial of the juice of St. James’s Wort. The pounded lettuce seed, in a cup of ale, would help Osbert sleep, and the juice of St. James’s Wort would, along with the wine, prevent his stripes from festering.

  Next I asked for a thing which caused the priest to raise his eyebrows. I requested a length of sturdy rope as long as the church tower was high. This tower was not so tall as might have been in a larger village.

  The clerk was sent on his way with instructions to return with the needed items, and also loaves and ale. Father Maurice announced that he would remain, as he did not trust Sir Philip to respect the sanctity of his church was he away.

  ’Twas near the ninth hour when the clerk, accompanied by a young assistant, returned. He brought three straw-filled pallets, three blankets, the pounded lettuce seeds and the vial of the juice of St. James’s Wort, a ewer of wine, another of ale, three loaves, and a roasted capon. His delay, he said, was due to trouble finding a rope. This he had failed to locate.

  I was so weak and sore from my own wound that I was not able to help myself or Osbert. I instructed the priest to bathe Osbert’s lacerated back with wine, then coat the area with the juice of St. James’s Wort and wrap him in a blanket, and with Arthur’s help lay him upon the thickest pallet. Osbert cried out as the wine touched his wounds, but I urged Father Maurice to pay no heed and continue the work. When he was done Arthur offered bread to Osbert, but he would have none. Arthur did manage to raise Osbert so that he could take some ale into which Father Maurice had poured a good measure of pounded lettuce seeds. Osbert moaned when Arthur and the priest placed him face-down upon the pallet, and was then silent.

  I asked Arthur’s aid in removing my cotehardie and kirtle, for my left shoulder was stiffened and to move my left arm caused much pain. I was no more hungry than Osbert, but knew I would heal best if I ate, so after Father Maurice had bathed my wounds with the remaining wine I ate some bread and a bit of the capon. Some of the pounded lettuce seed remained, so I asked the priest to pour it into a cup of ale and drank the mixture down.

  Arthur helped me to wrap myself in another of the blankets and I lay, aching and exhausted, bleeding upon a pallet. My plan to escape All Saints’ Church depended upon a length of sturdy rope, and I had none.

  While I lay wrapped in the blanket the clerk rang the evening Angelus Bell, and I was yet alert enough that the bell rope suddenly dangled in my clouded thoughts.

  I called Arthur and Father Maurice to me and explained my plan. Someone must travel to Bampton and tell Lord Gilbert of my plight. If the priest or his clerk attempted to leave Marcham I feared Sir Philip might find them upon the way and stop them. I wished no more men to suffer on my behalf.

  Arthur is not so tall as me, but weighs nearly fourteen stone. A rope which can support his bulk must be well made. No frail cord would do. I asked Father Maurice about his bell rope.

  “Nearly new,” he replied. “Got it last year from a rope-maker in Oxford.”

  “If it was loosed from the bell, and fastened from the top of the tower, would it bear Arthur, you think?”

  The priest cast an apprehensive eye at Arthur, measuring his bulk. His frown gradually faded, a smile replacing it.

  “Ah, I see. Aye, I believe it would.”

  “Sir Philip will have men placed at the doors,” I said, “but ’tis near dark, and I think he will pay no attention to the tower.”

  “You want me to escape by rope down the tower?” Arthur asked.

  “Aye. Get to Bampton as quickly as you can. Tell Lord Gilbert where I am, and why, and ask if he will send Lady Petronilla’s wagon to take me and Osbert to Bampton. Sir Philip must be driven off, so a half-dozen or more grooms should accompany the wagon.”

  “An’ what am I to tell Kate?”

  “That I am wounded, but ’tis not grievous.”

  I did not wish for Kate to suffer unnecessary worry, and, indeed, I did not believe my wound so perilous as when I first looked down and saw an arrowhead protruding from under my arm. I had coughed up no blood, so was convinced that the shaft had missed my lung.

  There was yet part of a loaf remaining from the meal the clerk had brought. I told Arthur to eat it, so as to maintain his strength for the night’s journey. It was dark when he finished the loaf, licked his fingers and said, “I’m off, then.”

  Father Maurice had lit a candle, and in its dim light I saw Arthur and the clerk disappear into the dark in the direction of the tower. As he set off I warned Arthur to be careful in untying the rope. It would not do to have the bell sound.

  Much time passed before the clerk returned, so that I worried that some misfortune had befallen Arthur. But eventually the man appeared from the dark at the base of the tower and announced softly that Arthur had gone safely over the top of the tower, and the bell rope was now again fixed to the bell frame.

  Father Maurice sent the clerk and his young companion to the vicarage, then informed me that he would spend the night in the church.

  “If Sir Philip sees me leave, he’ll find some excuse to enter and carry you off. If I protest to the bishop he’ll claim you were seized trying to escape, and he’ll have put you to death, so you’ll not be able to dispute him. I know Sir Philip.”

  Father Maurice wrapped himself in a blanket and settled upon the remaining pallet. He was soon snoring softly. Osbert also slept, although he occasionally shifted upon his pallet and moaned when he did so. The lettuce seed was more effective for Osbert than for me. I lay alert well into the night.

  How had I come to such a plight? Perhaps if William of Garstang had not given his books to me, six years past, when he was near to death from plague, I would not be here, wounded, upon the floor of Marcham Church. One of William’s three books was Surgery, by Henri de Mondeville. I read it, and changed my vocation.

  Had I not spent a year of study in Paris, I could not have stitched up the lacerated leg of Lord Gilbert Talbot when a horse kicked him upon Oxford High Street. Then I would not have been offered a post as Lord Gilbert’s bailiff at Bampton, and was I not given such authority in that place I would not have known of John Thrale’s death or his coin, and would not now lay pierced upon the cold flags of All Saints’ Church.

  But it was my skill as a surgeon which led me to meet Kate Caxton and claim her for my bride. I might wish the flow of my life had followed some other course, so to avoid the sorrow which occasionally afflicts me, as with all men, but had it done so I would never have known the joy of life with Kate. I would not have bounced Bessie upon my knee and heard her squeal with delight.

  Why should I wish my way had been altered so as to avoid this place and this moment? Some other sorrows would surely have come to me had I chosen to walk other paths, and the bliss I found with Kate, the pleasure of life among the folk of Bampton, the satisfaction of my work as surgeon and for Lord Gilbert, all this I would have lost.

  I turned upon my pallet to seek a more comfortable position, adjusted the blanket, and finally fell to sleep, content with my lot. I did awaken often through the night, and when I did I breathed a prayer that the Lord Christ would take pity upon me and send me, whole and recovered, back to Kate’s arms. I resolved never again to question His direction for my life, or lament the sorrows which come my way, for then I must also repent of the delights He has allowed me.

  When dawn gave enough light to see, Father Maurice opened the door to the porch. He glanced through the opening, then closed the door and walked my way.

  “Four men,” he said. “Didn’t see Sir Philip among ’em. Probably sought his bed and left others to do his work. No doubt there are more watching the other doors.”

  There had been no shouting or commotion the night before, when Arth
ur let himself down from the tower. I was sure he was safely away. Had he been discovered there would have been tumult. Arthur would not be easily taken, even by half a dozen men.

  From Marcham to Bampton is nearly ten miles. Even if Arthur was cautious upon the road he would have roused Wilfred, the porter of Bampton Castle, by midnight. Would he seek Lord Gilbert straight away, or allow his lord to sleep the night in peace before he gave him my message? I had supplied no instruction on the matter.

  I had convinced myself that Arthur had awaited the new day to seek Lord Gilbert when I heard hoof-beats in the distance. The priest heard also, and turned to me with concern in his eyes. He believed, I think, that Sir Philip had returned with reinforcements. When I saw the concern upon his face I felt also some anxiety, but this soon faded. Had Sir Philip wished to violate sanctuary, he had had enough men with him last night to do so, and carry me, Osbert, and Arthur off to East Hanney.

  “’Tis Lord Gilbert’s men,” I said, and was shocked at how weak my voice had become.

  The thunder of many hooves reached a crescendo, then came to a clattering halt. There was a momentary stillness, soon followed by the shouts of many agitated men.

  While the bellowing continued there came several firm blows against the church door, and we heard a shout over the din: “’Tis me, Arthur, with Lord Gilbert an’ men of Bampton!”

  Father Maurice leaped to the door, and from the corner of my eye I saw Osbert attempt to lift himself upon an elbow to see what clamor had roused him from his sleep. The priest drew the bolt, swung open the door, and fell back as Lord Gilbert and Arthur charged through the opening. From beyond the porch, with the door now open, I could hear angry words, but they seemed to diminish in volume rapidly.

  Arthur had stood aside to allow Lord Gilbert to enter the church first. “You are Father Maurice?” he asked. The priest bowed in reply.

  “My man has told me of your good service. This church will see my gratitude. Where is Master Hugh?”