A Trail of Ink

by Mel Starr

  “Perhaps, but I think not. When they saw I paid them notice they turned aside. And one I have seen before. At Eynsham Abbey, when I went there to consult the abbot, I saw a servant there larger than any man I ever saw. This was the same fellow. I have never seen in Oxford a man of such size.”

  Arthur stared thoughtfully down the darkening street, then spoke. “Odo Grindecobbe.”

  “You know the fellow?”

  “Heard of ’im. ’Tis said he bested Hamo the Tanner when Hamo and ’is troupe passed through Eynsham.”

  This was troubling news. Hamo the Tanner challenged all to wrestle when the jugglers and contortionist in his troupe were done with their performances. His neck was as thick around as my thigh. I had never seen him lose. It was the tanner’s daughter who was found in Bampton Castle cesspit two years past, murdered and hid there by Sir Robert Mallory.

  Arthur and I turned from the empty street and went to our supper. I was not much pleased to think that a man like Odo Grindecobbe might have an interest in me, and his appearance this day was not but coincidence.

  I fell to sleep a short time later to the music of Arthur’s snores, lulled to my slumber by the pleasant thought that on the morrow at the Church of St Peter-in-the-East, and at St Beornwald’s Church in Bampton, the banns would be read for the third time. I might then wed Kate Caxton.

  I had become accustomed to Arthur’s snores, so it was not the nocturnal din which awakened me, but the lack of it. His rumbling was muffled, then ceased. A heartbeat later I heard a scrambling and tossing about from Arthur’s pallet, as if a hog was rooting for acorns in the straw. I had no time to contemplate this curiosity. At the same moment a hand clamped over my mouth and another went about my throat.

  The uproar from Arthur’s side of the chamber increased, but I was too much absorbed in my own struggle to take notice of it. Two men were upon me, perhaps three, for I felt hands, arms, and legs pinioning me from all sides.

  I attempted to yell for help, but as soon as I opened my mouth a woolen rag was stuffed in to muffle my cry. It might have been linen. The flavor was indistinct.

  The tumult caused me to fall from my bed to the stones of the floor, but this did not gain me any escape from my assailants. I was turned to my stomach and my arms were bound tight behind me. A cloth was wrapped about my head to keep me from spitting out the fabric stuffed in my mouth, and another was tied about my eyes. My legs were then seized and a cord tightened about my ankles. I was trussed up like a Christmas goose.

  Arthur received similar treatment, but he is a brawnier fellow than me, and battled our captors more vigorously, if the noise from his pallet was any indication. As I lay bound upon the flags, with a man sitting upon my rump, I heard the sound of a fist or club delivering a blow. I did not identify the thump then, but learned later what it was that silenced Arthur. After this blow I heard nothing but the heavy breathing of men who had exerted themselves, and the thumping of my own heart.

  My mouth and vision were stopped, but not my ears. I heard the chamber door swing open and a moment later a hushed voice spoke that the way was clear. Two men lifted me at feet and shoulders and carried me from the chamber.

  I was taken to the Canterbury Hall yard, so attempted to signal my plight by shouting through the gag in my mouth. I produced little sound, but a great response. Someone striding near struck me a great blow across the ear and though I was blindfolded, I saw the stars of the heavens in all their glory.

  After twenty paces or so one of my captors slung me over a shoulder and I was carried up a ladder. I did not understand the motion at the time, addled as I was from the blow across my skull, but did a moment later when I was pitched over the wall and felt the world drop from me until my head and shoulders met the sod at the base of the wall.

  I was briefly stunned, but the ground was soft and did me no great injury. And when my face met the grass the cloth tied about my eyes was brushed up against my forehead. I found that I could see under the veil, though enough yet covered my eyes that my captors would assume I was yet blind.

  I lay in the wet grass, considering my plight, and heard another body strike the sod beside me. Arthur grunted as the breath left his lungs, but I heard no more from him. He was insensible from the blow delivered in the chamber.

  Our captors began to speak in low tones, careless of being heard. “Don’t know why we didn’t just kill ’em.”

  “We’re not to leave bodies where they might be found, as Salley was. And this one,” I felt a boot in my ribs, “has questions to answer.”

  I was once again lifted by ankles and shoulders and carried off. But not far. I felt myself lifted to the air, then dropped, belly first, across a smooth, hard, rounded surface. The object under me moved. I was splayed across a saddle. In the silence of the night I heard horses blowing and shifting their hooves. I heard another speak softly to his horse and we began to move. I could see little from the slit between my cheek and the cloth over my eyes, but saw enough to observe the mud of town streets under the hooves of the beast which bore me. I assumed that Arthur was likewise transported, for the sound of many horses mingled with the squeak of harness leather.

  We had traveled this way but a short while when I heard hooves striking stone rather than mud. I turned my head and could see a bridge beneath me. We were leaving the city, but by which bridge? Did we travel east, across the Cherwell and Eastbridge? Or perhaps south, across the Folly Bridge? Or west, across the Castle Mill Stream Bridge to Oseney Island?

  Our progress was not challenged by any who manned a city gate. I pondered this. Coins had changed hands, or someone of influence authorized our passage. In a short time I heard a horse ahead of my own strike stone again. Another bridge. Did we travel west, across the Thames, or south? Both roads required two bridges to leave the town. While I thought on this a bell sounded from nearby. It was a bell hung from the tower of Oseney Abbey. We went west.

  It was not yet dawn; the sacrist did not sound the bell for lauds, but for vigils. I had been dragged from my bed in the middle of the night.

  I am not a skilled horseman. Long hours in the saddle bring me a tender rump and no joy. In the next hour I learned that sitting in a saddle is a benign way to travel when compared to being tossed across a horse on one’s belly.

  I heard a voice call for a halt, for which I was grateful. Rough hands dragged me from the saddle and dropped me to the mud of a road. In the moonlight I could see shoes and boots under the chink in my blindfold.

  Occasionally while we traveled our captors exchanged low words. I could not identify voices, but came to recognize five different speakers. Three, it seemed, were coarse, unlettered men, and two spoke as gentlemen. One of these gave the orders and answered questions.

  Two of my captors picked me from the mud, a hand under each shoulder, and I was dragged to the verge, my heels making streaks in the mire. They did not stop, however, when away from the road. I felt myself dragged through the sodden autumn leaves of a forest floor. Occasional strands of ground ivy clutched at my shoes and broken twigs and fallen branches clawed at my chauces.

  We journeyed this way for some distance. The men who hauled me through the wood were winded by the time I heard another command them to halt. They did, and dropped me to the leaves. I then overheard a muted discussion as two of my assailants discussed the location of a thing they wished to find. The forest was quite dark.

  I heard a mumbled oath to my left, assumed it was Arthur who tried to communicate with me, and grunted a reply with dry tongue. For this I received a kick in the ribs.

  I heard feet pushing through the fallen leaves, the sound diminishing as the makers distanced themselves from their comrades. Silence descended upon the forest, but not for long. I heard a distant shout, and moments later was hoisted again by the shoulders and dragged farther into the wood.

  “We’re to leave ’em here,” a voice said. “Sir Simon will learn what they know, then be rid of ’em as he will. Our task is done.”
/>   I felt myself hauled onto bare dirt. No foliage grasped at my heels. Here I was dropped, and Arthur also. I next heard a sound as if brush was being swept across the earth. When our captors again spoke their words were muffled. The conversation seemed to involve a dispute and quickly grew loud enough to hear clearly. One of the gentlemen ordered another to remain until Sir Simon arrived, to insure Arthur and I would not escape our bonds. The man so instructed loudly announced his displeasure at spending the remainder of the night in a cold, damp wood. The exchange ended with a sharp sound which I took to be a palm across a cheek. Another voice said, “We’ll take your horse. Sir Simon will bring another.” The argument seemed ended.

  I next heard footsteps, which rapidly grew faint and soon vanished. We were alone, somewhere in a wood, where Sir Simon Trillowe would seek us. I thought I knew what his questions might be, although what interest he might have in Master John’s books or Robert Salley was a puzzle to me.

  A soft curse broke the silence of the forest. I heard next a sigh, and what seemed a body falling to rest among the leaves of the wood. Arthur and I were not alone.

  I rubbed my head quietly against the dirt where I lay and after several attempts managed to scrape the blindfold from my eyes. We had been deposited in a crude hut, probably used by swineherds. I saw Arthur’s dark form to my left. His shadow moved and occasionally groaned in discomfort.

  Whatever Sir Simon wished to learn, it was clear what he intended when he had no further use for me. He would “be rid of ’em as he will.” And our attackers had been instructed not to leave corpses about where they might be found. Sir Simon intended me soon to be a corpse. Might a man’s wounded pride lead him to kill?

  I believe I am like most men. I call upon the Lord Christ when in need, but forget to speak to Him when my life is smooth and pleasant. I treat the Savior like a lawyer; I call upon Him only when I am in trouble. I vowed to amend my ways and prayed that some escape might appear before Arthur and I were made food for worms. I told Him of my plight, and pointed out that, unless He intervened, I was likely to die soon. I concluded this prayer with the thought that, although He was surely occupied dealing with all the troubles men bring upon themselves and others, it would require of Him little effort to see us set free.

  I do not know what I expected from this petition. Perhaps I thought my bonds would miraculously loosen. That did not happen. I lay shivering upon the cold dirt, as firmly trussed as ever. My fur coat would have been welcome, but it lay in the guest chamber at Canterbury Hall. Unless one of our captors now wore it, assuming I would have no future need of it.

  Arthur’s struggles soon ended. Whatever he had tried to do to free himself had failed and he abandoned the effort. His dark form seemed more visible. Moonlight was beginning to penetrate the chinks in the brushy walls and roof of the hut, filtered through the leafless branches of the forest. How early would Sir Simon leave his bed and seek me? This was Sunday. Perhaps he would attend mass and consume a leisurely dinner before he sought the hut. I decided I must not assume this would be so.

  Arthur was soon dimly visible. I saw his hands tied at the wrists behind his back, for he lay on his side facing away from me. I saw his fingers twitch, and it came to me what I might do. My work must be silent, for our guard was present, sleeping, near the door of the hut. I could hear his regular breathing, and occasional snore.

  I rolled and writhed until I lay with my back to Arthur and reached for his bonds with numb fingers. He understood readily what I intended, and held his bound wrists away from his back so my fingers might find better purchase upon the knots fastening his arms.

  My fingers felt stiff as twigs from the cold and the bonds pressing tight about my wrists. I tried to get a fingernail under the knotted cords. All the while I heard or imagined noises in the forest which my mind construed as footsteps approaching. Haste did not improve the effort. Defeated, I released Arthur’s bonds and forced myself to breathe more slowly; to search the hempen cord with my fingers until I might find a likely twist in the rope where I could undo the knot.

  Arthur waited patiently while I explored his bonds and tugged at the knot. Gradually, after teasing it for what seemed an hour, I felt the knot loosen. Arthur felt it also. I heard him grunt approval through the gag. His joy was premature. The cord around his wrists was knotted three times or more. I had succeeded in loosening but one of these. Arthur was as securely bound as before this minor success. Failure was not to be contemplated. I resumed work on the tangle at my back.

  I lay upon my right shoulder while I tried Arthur’s fetters. My right arm soon grew numb from its constricted place under my body. I was forced to roll to my stomach so to restore feeling to my arm and fingers. Arthur believed my movement a signal that I had given up the struggle. He became much agitated, grunting and groaning and attempting to speak softly through his gag. I feared he would awaken our sleeping sentinel. Arthur had surely heard our captors speak of our fate, and was unwilling to resign himself to such an end. No more so was I. I rolled back to my side and reached again for the knots. Arthur quieted when he felt me do so.

  The knot refused to yield. If we were to free ourselves from this hut before Sir Simon and doom approached, another path to release must be found.

  I left my place in the dirt and writhed forward until my hands found the knots behind Arthur’s head which held his gag in place. These would not need to be untied. Tight as they were, with a steady pull the blindfold and gag might be pulled over his head. So I hoped.

  And so it was. Both gag and blindfold came loose with but a few moments’ tugging. I heard Arthur spit out the sodden rag from his mouth with a quiet oath.

  I wormed my way back until my head was even with Arthur’s bound hands and turned so my knotted gag was at his fingers.

  “Ah,” he whispered with a thick tongue, “I see what you’re about.”

  I felt his fingers grasp the fabric of the blindfold and work it loose. Next came the gag. Like Arthur, I spat the soggy woolen remnant from my mouth. But not with an oath. I thought it unseemly for one who but a short time before had beseeched God for aid to speak now with an imprecation. And with a drowsing guard but a few paces away, this was no time for unnecessary words.

  “I felt the tie loosen,” Arthur whispered. “You must be at it again. My fingers be too thick to deal with knots, or I’d ’ave a go with yours.” I felt him push his bound wrists against me, offering them for my struggle. Our efforts could not be completely silent, but I heard a rising breeze sighing through the bare forest boughs which served to cover the sound of our work.

  “I’ve another plan,” I replied. “Are your teeth strong, or rotted?”

  “Strong. I’ve lost but one, an’ another’s a bit loose for the blow I took when we was set upon.”

  “Then turn to me. I will place my bonds before your mouth. See can you chew through the cord.”

  I heard Arthur shift his place. A moment later I felt his teeth at work on the rope about my wrists.

  It took Arthur less time to gnaw through the hempen cord than I have taken to write of the business. My dinner knife and dagger lay on the table in Canterbury Hall’s guest chamber, did our captors leave them unmolested, else I might then have quickly freed Arthur. His knots were easier to undo with free hands, but required time and effort. When Arthur’s hands were free we set to work on the ropes about our ankles and were soon loosed from our bonds.

  “Let’s have at the fellow they’ve left behind, then conceal ourselves in the forest and take Sir Simon when he approaches,” Arthur whispered through clenched teeth. He was angry and ready for battle. But I thought such a course unwise.

  We were free, but unable to leave our cell for the guard stationed beyond the bushy door. During our struggle to free ourselves I had heard him snort and change his position several times, but he seemed to remain aslumber.

  “My dagger and dinner knife are in the cell at Canterbury Hall. Sir Simon will not seek this place alone. And he and his c
ompanions will come armed.”

  Arthur’s countenance fell as reality nudged thoughts of vengeance from his mind. “We might hide ourselves to see does he come alone,” he hissed. “Alone, even armed, we might take ’im.” Arthur was unwilling to abandon retaliation.

  “He will not do so. He will have companions. When they find this hut empty they will scour the forest seeking us… with swords in hand. We must be away when Sir Simon arrives.”

  Arthur frowned and wrinkled his brow, but said no more of retribution. I went to the door, which was but a collection of sticks bound together with ground ivy and tied on one side with more ivy as a hinge. I gently pushed at this crude barrier and through a thin crack studied the forest.

  Our snoring guard lay with his back against a tree three or four paces from the hut. I motioned to Arthur to take my place to see what must be soon done.

  “I will open this door slowly,” I whispered, “so as to make no sound. When it is wide enough to pass, follow me. We may fall upon the fellow before he gathers his wits. If he awakens while I move the door, abandon caution and have at him.”

  He did not awaken. In silence Arthur and I crept from the hut and stood over the snoring guard. The leaves of the forest floor were wet and made no sound to betray our advance. His dagger he carried in a sheath attached to a belt, and the fellow was so senseless that he did not awaken when I drew it carefully from its place.

  Nearby lay a dead branch, fallen from the oak against which the guard slumbered. Arthur pointed to it and motioned as if to bring it down upon the guard’s head. I nodded, and so he did.

  The blow was not so hard as to kill the miscreant, but his sleep would be protracted. We hauled the fellow to the hut, found the cords which had bound us, and trussed the guard securely. When we were done Arthur glanced about and found the woolen scrap which had been stuffed into his mouth. This he rubbed enthusiastically in the dirt, then wadded it into a ball and crammed it into the fellow’s mouth. The Lord Christ commanded us to do good to those who use us badly, so this was surely a sin. I pray Christ will forgive Arthur for this, and me, for I did not remove the filthy rag, but was pleased to see it done.