‘Ah!’ Will cried out, curling up in mock pain while his tiny grandson clambered on top of him and slapped his muscular arms, laughing the whole time as if he’d burst with the fun of it all.
‘Stop! Stop, I beg you! I’ve had enough.’
The little boy continued his assault for a while, then, bored at last, jumped off his victim and ran back outside, still shrieking with laughter. His grandfather rose and regained his seat beside the monks, apparently not embarrassed at all by the straw in his hair or the general unruly state of him after his ‘beating’ at the hands of the wild infant.
‘I’m glad to see you’re enjoying life to the fullest again,’ the cantor said. ‘Your brothers in Selby send their best wishes and they’ll be happy to hear our report when we return home. We would have visited sooner but it’s a fair journey, as you know.’
‘All is well with you though?’ Nicholas asked. ‘Truly?’
‘Truly.’ Will nodded. ‘I don’t care overmuch for the farm – I gave it to Beth when I went to Selby after all – but I get to spend a lot of time with young Robert there and, well, you saw him. He’s taken years off me.’ He sipped his ale, smiling contentedly. ‘And Beth has been so good to me since I came back here. A man couldn’t ask any more from his daughter. Little John and Tuck have even visited a few times too – I think Beth must have told them I needed a friend. We’ve had a few drunken nights out at the local alehouse, let me tell you . . .’
The three men sat in companionable silence for a time, enjoying the simple yet tasty food and drink on Will’s table until, eventually, Nicholas asked the question that had also been playing on the cantor’s mind.
‘What happens when the little lad is grown and . . . ?’
It was a fair question. The monks assumed he might feel lonely and lost again once Robert was a few years older and didn’t need his grandfather to play with anymore.
Just then Robert’s voice could be heard squealing in excitement, and a woman’s friendly tones replied, the sound approaching and growing louder until, at last, a face peered in at the men.
‘Grandpa, Elspeth is here!’
Robert tore into the house again then stared up at Will. ‘I need a drink.’
The men laughed and Will handed the lad a cup of watered-down ale, shooing him away, back outside.
When he had gone all eyes returned to the open doorway. A tall, pretty lass of near thirty years carrying a small bunch of white, musky-smelling flowers stood there shyly.
‘Come on in, Elspeth.’ Will smiled, gesturing her forward. ‘These are friends of mine from the abbey.’
Nicholas in particular eyed the newcomer with clear appreciation, drinking in the sight of her clear white skin, freshly combed brown hair and . . .
Will laughed at the young monk’s surprise.
‘Aye.’ He nodded, taking the girl’s hand and drawing her in beside him. ‘Friar Tuck married us in the spring and I’m to be a father again.’ He patted her swollen belly lovingly. ‘And I – we – couldn’t be happier. I’ll be a busy man for a while yet. Does that answer your last question?’
AUTHOR’S NOTE
So, this is it: the final book in the Forest Lord series. I always liked Will Scarlet as a character – he seemed to have a lot going on in his head and the thought that he might have ended up becoming a monk really interested me. We all change as we get older, after all, and I wondered how Will would take to life in an abbey, given his legendary temper. It had to be a fun tale, right? Hopefully it was.
Readers might be surprised to know The Abbey of Death is, somewhat, based on real events. I didn’t know this when I started writing it, but, as so often seems to happen to an author, research throws up facts that really help shape a story. In this case, I was eating my breakfast on the day I was to start writing and I was flicking through Terry Jones’s Medieval Lives when I read about the troubles at Bury St Edmunds Abbey in 1327. Apparently 3,000 townsfolk had attacked the place because they were sick of the monks’ loose living. I looked into it a little more on the Internet, wondering if anywhere closer to Will Scaflock’s home in Wakefield might have had similar problems.
Sure enough, Selby Abbey, a little over twenty miles away, had been blessed with wicked clergymen just like those in Bury St Edmunds, and it became clear I could use this to flesh out what had been, until that point, a rather basic outline for the planned novella.
The monks at Selby were pretty naughty back then, to the extent that Archbishop Melton censured the real Abbot John de Wystow II on more than one occasion. Monks like Adam de la Breuer, Thomas de Hirst, John de Whitgift, and, of course, Robert de Flexburgh were guilty of a variety of transgressions: gossiping; sending alms to ‘a certain suspected woman’; ‘incontinence with certain women of the town’; and general lascivious, dissolute behaviour.
So you might have read The Abbey of Death thinking it was all a bit far-fetched but, in truth, I toned things down. Medieval monks were often nothing like the softly spoken, thoughtful Cadfael from the TV show – many were hard bastards who liked a good drink and a night with a prostitute. Some of whom actually wandered openly around the cloisters in Bury St Edmunds!
Who would have thought Will Scarlet would take exception to such behaviour? I think the Will we saw in Wolf’s Head might have accepted it easily enough, but he’s older, wiser and, I believe, a better man in this novella thanks to his experiences with Robin Hood’s gang.
A couple of little things I should note: as pointed out by my excellent beta reader Nicky Galliers, the lowly monks would not have retained their family names, but I felt it would have been a chore for readers if I only called, for example, de Flexburgh ‘Brother Robert’ all the time; secondly, I have taken a few liberties with the layout of Selby Abbey to make the action a little more exciting. There doesn’t seem to be a ground plan of the original buildings, much of which were destroyed by fire in 1340.
I hope you enjoyed the tale and will continue to follow my work as I move on from these well-loved characters and begin to create my own new ones, starting with Bellicus the druid in post-Roman Britain. I’m having a fine time with him, and his supporting cast, and I hope to have his first adventure ready to publish in early 2018.
Have a great summer, readers, and as always, thank you for your support!
Steven A. McKay
Old Kilpatrick
30 March 2017
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to my beta readers, Bernadette McDade and Nicky Galliers, who helped me out a lot, particularly with the religious and historical aspects of the story. The fine people at Selby Abbey, particularly John Weetman, sent me some really useful stuff to help with my research, for which I am most grateful.
A huge and probably overdue thanks to my editor, Richenda Todd. She has edited every one of my novels and novellas so far (not copy-edited, I should add – all mistakes there are mine!), really allowing me to see any flaws in the early drafts and making the entire series the best it could be.
Finally, I couldn’t close out the Forest Lord series without mentioning my children, Freya, Riley and Lianna, who inspire me every day. I love you!
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THANK YOU FOR READING
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Steven A. McKay was born in Scotland in 1977. His first novel, Wolf’s Head, was published in 2013 and went on to be an Amazon UK top-twenty bestseller. The Abbey of Death is the final story in the Forest Lord series. Steven is currently researching and writing a brand-new tale set in post-Roman Britain. He plays lead guitar and sings in a heavy-metal band when they can find the time to meet.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CONTENTS
Summer 1328, Selby Abbey
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
If you enjoyed…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The Abbey of Death Page 10
