‘Keep ’em coming, Sire,’ Charlie said, and they burst into laughter once again.
*
‘So what’s going on with you and Sarah, Dan?’ Paul asked.
Dan scowled and thumped his glass on the table, sloshing red wine on to the polished wood.
‘What’s there to say? She’s shacking up with that bastard, Mike.’
‘What? She’s moved in with him?’
‘Well, she reckons she’s staying with Helen until I move out, but she’ll be with him.’
‘And she’s making you move out?’ Charlie asked.
‘Yeah. Then no doubt she’ll move lover boy in.’
‘And you’ve agreed to this?’ Paul asked, incredulous.
‘No choice.’
‘Why?’
Dan shrugged. ‘If I don’t she’ll go to the police, tell them I hit her or something.’
‘And did you?’ Charlie asked.
Dan looked uncomfortable then, ‘Fuck, yeah I did.’ He drained his glass. ‘We were arguing about Mike, then she ignored me to answer his call.’
‘Sounds like she deserved it,’ Paul said.
‘Damn right she did, embarrassing me like that, and with a mate. I should do it again!’
‘She’s making a fool of you, Dan.’
Charlie noticed the looks of disdain from the women on the next table and felt uncomfortable for a moment, although he wasn’t quite sure why. He ignored the feeling. ‘All right, darling?’ he said and the women pointedly turned their backs. He laughed and went to the bar.
*
‘Bloody hell, he’s pulled,’ Charlie told Paul, half a dozen glasses of wine later. Paul turned in his seat to see Dan at the bar talking to a group of women, two bottles of red wine on the bar beside him.
‘It doesn’t look like he’s bringing them over,’ Paul said.
‘What? The wine or the girls?’
‘Neither!’ Paul stood up too quickly and knocked his chair over. He left it where it was and lurched to the bar, Charlie in his wake, bowing and making apologies for his friend, though not caring if he received glares or smiles in response.
Paul approached behind two of the women and cupped their hips as he pushed his head between them to greet Dan. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ he said, oblivious of the women recoiling from him – one of them straight into Charlie’s arms.
‘Forgive my manners,’ Dan said. ‘These are my good friends Henry and Thomas.’ He raised his glass to Paul with a wink and a smirk. ‘And I’m Reginald.’
‘You mean you’ve been hogging these lovely ladies and haven’t even introduced yourself, uh, Reg?’ Paul asked, laughing. ‘Hey, where do you think you’re going?’ he added as the woman lucky enough to avoid Charlie’s clutches almost succeeded in freeing herself from Paul – who just gripped tighter. Hard enough for her to cry out and push him away.
‘All right, that’s enough, leave the ladies alone.’ A short but burly man dressed in a black suit grabbed hold of Paul’s shoulder.
‘And who might you be?’ Paul said, his voice full of disdain.
‘I’m the bloke who’s kicking you out. You can go quietly, but if not my friends and I will help you on your way.’ He jerked his head towards the door but did not take his eyes off the drunken men.
Paul pushed closer to him. ‘You do not lay a hand on me or my friends, do you have any idea who I am?’
‘I don’t give a shit who you are, you’re not welcome here.’
‘You insolent . . .’
The doorman caught Paul’s swinging fist easily and used his momentum to spin Paul around, twist his arm behind his back, and propel him towards the doors.
‘Hey, you can’t do that,’ Charlie shouted, moving to come to his friend’s aid. ‘He’s King Henry!’
‘Yeah, he’s King Henry and I’m William the Conqueror,’ the doorman muttered, all patience evaporated – if he’d had any in the first place.
‘He is.’ Dan descended into giggles as two more security staff grabbed him and Charlie and marched them all out of the pub, the crowd of patrons parting before them.
‘You’re not welcome back,’ the first doorman said. ‘So don’t even try it.’
‘Why, you cretin,’ Paul said, lunging for the man and catching him on the jaw with his fist. The doorman quickly wrestled the ‘king’ to the ground, kneeling on him to keep him subdued while his two colleagues dealt with Charlie and Dan’s drunken and ineffectual attempts to free their friend. Soon all three were on the ground amidst a growing circle of concerned onlookers.
Within minutes a police van arrived and the doormen let the three friends up. They immediately spun again, but the men were expecting a clumsy attack and stepped back to avoid it. Each actor was grabbed from behind by police officers, then thrown against the side of the van, where more officers fastened handcuffs on their wrists.
‘I am arresting you for being drunk and disorderly,’ one of the officers – a sergeant – said. ‘And if you don’t calm down, I’ll add assault to that. What are your names?’
He received only verbal abuse in return and indicated that the officers should put them into the back of the van.
When the cage door was shut and locked behind them, the sergeant tried again. ‘What are your names? It’ll be worse for you if you don’t answer.’
‘Reginald FitzUrse,’ Dan said and cackled with laughter. ‘And this is Thomas Becket and Henry Plantagenet.’
‘I see,’ the sergeant said with a sigh. ‘At least that’s more original than Mickey Mouse.’ He shut the van door and thumped on it to indicate that the driver could go, then turned to ensure the pub security staff were okay and ask what the hell was going on.
Chapter 35
July 1171
The knights and their men-at-arms gathered in the outer bailey; the marshal and grooms in a flurry of activity to ensure the horses were tacked and ready to ride. One of Tracy’s men lost his battle with the frayed nerves of his mount and it bolted; scattering men, weapons and horses until it was brought up short by the curtain wall.
Morville and FitzUrse glanced at each other in despair at the chaos.
‘Just as well no one attacked or laid siege,’ said FitzUrse. ‘All that training and it’s a shambles.’
Morville shrugged. ‘No one knows what to expect, and you all have a long journey ahead – especially Tracy. Plus the men don’t know what to think – I’d be surprised if you didn’t lose a few on the road.’
‘When I find out who told them of the Pope’s sanction, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands,’ FitzUrse said.
‘You would never keep that news quiet,’ Morville said. ‘The whole kingdom is aware.’
‘Yes, well, this shall not be a comfortable ride.’
‘Think of poor Tracy. When you and Brett arrive in Somerset he still has almost a sennight’s ride to his estates in Cornwall.’
‘It seems an awful lot of trouble to go to – all to build a few damnable churches.’
‘The King wishes it. We need his favour and that of the nobles. I just hope it shall be enough to pacify Pope Alexander.’
‘You know Tracy is talking about building three,’ FitzUrse said.
Morville shook his head. ‘Damned fool, can’t do anything in moderation.’
FitzUrse shrugged. ‘He’s keen, too keen at times, but you know he’ll always do his best for you.’
Morville stayed silent as Tracy and Brett approached.
‘Are you ready, Reginald?’ Tracy asked. FitzUrse gave a curt nod. ‘Then we bid you farewell, Hugh.’
‘Godspeed and safe journey,’ Morville said. ‘I shall see you in a month or two.’
‘Yes, and all of us considerably poorer,’ FitzUrse said.
‘It is a small price to pay to regain the favour of all of Christendom,’ Tracy said. No one could gainsay Tracy’s piety, although FitzUrse scowled. Morville rested his hand on his fellow knight’s arm to forestall any rebuke.
‘Godsp
eed,’ he said again. ‘Build your steeples tall and your naves wide. Let these churches be a beacon to sinners and saints alike.’
‘Amen,’ Tracy said, crossing himself. The three knights turned to go, FitzUrse at the rear shaking his head. Morville suppressed a smile. Despite The Bear’s outward show of scorn, he had not overly protested at riding to Barham Court to raise a church dedicated to Thomas Becket as his declaration of repentance. He was as shaken by the news that Becket was to be canonised as he was by his own censure.
*
Once his guests and their retainers had cleared Cnaresburg, Morville set out on his own mission of penance.
‘What made you settle on Hampsthwaite?’ William de Stoteville asked.
‘It is a new parish and growing, yet has not a stone church,’ Morville replied, ‘and is close enough to also serve the new hamlet of Clint.’
‘Would not a church serve you better in Cnaresburg itself?’
‘Cnaresburg has the church of St Mary Magdalene and Nostell Priory. It needs not another place of worship and would likely be seen as a bribe by the populace.’
‘You may be right,’ Stoteville said, surprised that Morville had thought this through.
‘The population of Hampsthwaite has grown in recent years and a stone church would fulfil a true need. A much better penance do you not think?’
‘Yes, I do indeed.’
‘Although I have charged Robertson of Cnaresburg as master stone mason and given him full authority over his team of masons.’
‘And he is happy to carry out the work?’
‘There are few commissions of this size to be had. He is very happy indeed.’
‘And so shall many families in Cnaresburg be happy,’ Stoteville said with a wry smile at Morville’s cunning. ‘Which will go a great way to restoring your good name.’
‘Let us pray it is so,’ Morville said. ‘If I can turn the hearts of Yorkshiremen, turning the heart of an Italian pope shall be a simple task in comparison.’
Stoteville laughed as Morville kicked his horse on into the ford through the River Nydde at Hampsthwaite, and followed him into the shallow water.
A few yards further and Morville pulled up his mount to the right, where the current chapel was situated. ‘We shall replace this shack. Those woods shall supply the timber for the fitments, it is near the heart of the village and by the crossroads, so also easy for the folk of Clint to attend,’ he said, glancing around at the abundant green fields and woodland, and the small wooden structure already standing.
‘But it is not on a rise,’ Stoteville objected.
‘No,’ Morville said. ‘I do not want to put my church above the village.’
‘Becket’s Church,’ Stoteville could not help but correct.
‘Indeed,’ Morville said.
‘The ideal spot. Ah, here is Robertson now.’
*
‘That went exceedingly well,’ Stoteville said on their return journey to Cnaresburg at dusk.
‘Yes, Robertson is very pleased with the opportunity – especially as I did not object to the number of masons he wishes to employ,’ Morville said.
‘If it brings harmony back to Cnaresburg Castle, it is a low price to pay,’ Stoteville said.
‘Yes, my thoughts exactly. Although I am concerned about how many carpenters Foster will foist on me when he hears of it.’
‘Your pockets will be much lightened,’ Stoteville observed with a smile.
Morville sighed. ‘What price Heaven, William? For let us face it, that is what I am buying.’
Stoteville could find no answer and they rode in silence.
*
‘What’s that?’ Morville exclaimed as he topped the rise of the hill leading to Bond End.
Stoteville joined him. ‘God’s bones – fire!’
Both knights kicked their spurs into their horses’ flanks and galloped into Cnaresburg.
The marketplace, surrounded by flimsy thatched timber buildings, was well ablaze and both men stared in shock.
‘Go to the castle!’ Morville shouted. ‘Raise the garrison, maybe we can save the rest of the town.’
‘But what if it’s a trap?’
‘It’s no trap, William, hurry!’
‘But Percy or even Courcy could have instigated this to weaken your defence of the castle.’
‘They would be more direct, William. Tarry no longer, to the castle with you!’
Morville jumped off his horse, giving the rump of Stoteville’s a hearty smack as he did so.
‘Hurry, before I have to rebuild the whole town,’ Morville shouted, then joined the line of men and women passing buckets.
Stoteville galloped down Butter Lane and Castle Gate to the gatehouse, his horse spooking at flares of ashes and airborne embers.
As he led the garrison back out, he remembered Morville joining the line of peasants and shook his head. He had underestimated his brother-in-law.
Approaching the marketplace at the head of a column of men-at-arms, Stoteville spotted Morville, black with soot and dirt, grasping the arm of an equally encrusted man, and he grinned. Morville had done much to repair his reputation and standing this day.
A thought flitted across his mind. He dismissed it but it would not leave him be. Had that been Morville’s plan?
Chapter 36
26th July 2015
Helen looked at her watch. ‘Well, we can’t wait any longer, let’s get started.’
‘How can we rehearse Becket’s exile scene without Becket or Henry?’ Ed asked.
‘Not very well, clearly,’ Helen snapped, then she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. ‘Sorry, Ed. Everything just seems to be falling apart.’
‘It’s the ghosts.’ Mike chuckled.
‘Don’t laugh, love, it probably is,’ Sarah said, her hand on Mike’s knee.
Helen sighed again. Nothing had changed much since Donna’s cleansing – not enough, anyway. ‘We’ll talk through all the practical stuff, use this time to get everything sorted.’
‘I don’t see why they can’t be here,’ Alec grumbled. ‘We’re all giving up our time and Paul and Charlie have the leads.’
‘I’ll ring again, see if I can find out what’s going on,’ Ed said and left the theatre to find a signal.
‘I think we need to expand plan B,’ Helen said. ‘Just in case things don’t get any better.’
‘They can hardly get worse,’ Alec said.
‘What do you have in mind?’ Sarah asked.
‘Understudies,’ Helen said.
‘You have got to be joking, Paul and Charlie have the leads!’ Mike echoed Alec’s earlier words. ‘Most of the play is the two of them! It’s not the same as understudying Dan.’
‘What do you suggest?’ Helen retorted. ‘Cancel the show?’
‘No way, being part of feva is massive for us, I’m not walking away from it,’ Alec said.
‘Are you willing to understudy then?’ Helen asked.
Alec sighed and looked around at the others. ‘I guess so,’ he said. ‘I know Henry’s part best, I’ll learn Paul’s lines. But that means somebody else will have to understudy Dan.’
Helen breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Alec. Mike, how about you? It’s you or Ed for Becket.’
‘What about me or you?’ Sarah asked.
‘I’ll take one of the knights’ roles if need be,’ Helen said.
‘John or Kate might take one on,’ Sarah said.
‘Yes, fantastic.’
‘Why can’t I play Becket?’ Sarah asked again.
Helen stared at her. ‘I think we can get away with women playing the minor roles, but having a woman playing a medieval archbishop won’t go down well.’
Sarah pouted and sat back in her chair, arms crossed, but didn’t argue.
‘I’ll do it if Ed refuses,’ Mike said grudgingly. ‘But with work and all I’m not going to have much time.’
‘Thanks Mike, I appreciate that. We’ll ask Ed when he comes bac
k in, but to be honest we’ve got some serious work to do to pull this together for opening night.’
‘Plan A or plan B?’ Sarah asked, still petulant.
Helen was saved from having to answer by Ed running back into the auditorium. ‘They were all arrested last night!’
‘What?’ the others shouted, all but Sarah who frowned and shook her head.
‘Tell us, Ed,’ Helen said, fighting the urge to weep as she saw everything she’d worked so hard for fall into ruin.
He gave them the story, then added, ‘They’ve been charged with drunk and disorderly, but wouldn’t accept a caution, the stubborn idiots. So it will go to court. They’ve been knocked around quite a bit apparently – Paul’s spitting feathers, talking about suing Wetherspoons and the police.’
‘Bloody typical,’ Alec muttered.
‘How badly hurt are they?’ Helen asked.
‘Not sure to be honest, Paul was too busy ranting about the police.’
‘They’ll be fine then,’ Sarah said. ‘And Dan?’
Ed shrugged. ‘They’ll be here soon. You can ask him yourself.’
‘I need a coffee,’ Sarah said and stood. ‘Anyone else?’
‘I need a bloody bottle of wine,’ said Helen and everyone laughed. ‘I guess coffee will do for now though.’
*
Sarah led the way back into the theatre. ‘The convicts are coming,’ she said amid peals of laughter. Her husband, Paul and Charlie followed, carrying the coffees and scowling.
‘Give it a rest, Sarah,’ Helen said, noting the expression on Dan’s face in particular. ‘How are you doing, guys?’
‘Battered, bruised, knackered,’ Paul said. ‘How do you think?’
An awkward silence fell on the group.
‘At least you’re here,’ Sarah said. ‘Why don’t you sit down and have your coffee?’
Dan glared at her, but the others took seats at the front by the stage.
‘So what happens now?’ Helen asked.
Charlie shrugged. ‘We have a court hearing in a couple of weeks.’
‘What, like a trial?’ Sarah asked.
‘No, just a hearing. I think we just say not guilty, then it will go to trial a few months later.’
Knight of Betrayal: A Medieval Haunting (Ghosts of Knaresborough Book 1) Page 13
