safely, just in case these men are still in the area.”
“But we don’t know that they’re round here, my love, they could be anywhere. And Hugh’ll slow me down.”
“No, we don’t know where they are, because you couldn’t follow them. So they could be here, so you’ll take Hugh, just in case.”
“No, but…”
“So you’ll take Hugh, just so that I know you’ll be a bit safer.”
“Well, the only thing is…”
“Because that way I know that there’s someone who can help to protect you.”
So at last he had shrugged and given in. He knew Margaret should be safe enough with all the men at the farm, even if the outlaws came here, so it did make sense for him to take Hugh with him. Even so, the thought of the journey did not seem to have put Hugh in any better frame of mind than Simon himself. Hugh was loyal, and had shown himself to be capable in a fight when they had been attacked by three cut-purses many years before, during market day at Moretonhampstead. Simon had been amazed to see his surly and reserved companion suddenly explode into action and, with his bare hands and the use of a cudgel retrieved from one of the band, put the three of them to flight.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Simon had asked, more in astonishment than surprise.
His servant had immediately lost his look of grim pleasure at his victory and instead became shifty, as if shy of demonstrating his skill, wary of earning a new reputation as a fighter. At last, after continual prompting, he looked up again and said, “You try to look after sheep on the moors when you’re small for your age. You try to keep them together when bigger boys come and try to take one or two of yours, because they want to hide the fact they’ve lost a couple of their own. You try it when your dad’ll take the skin off of your arse if you lose even one. You’d soon learn how to fight then, too.”
But that was two years ago now, and he was obviously unhappy about the thought of being waylaid and possibly having to fight with steel. He spent the journey constantly looking all around, which, if possible, seemed to make them go even slower than usual, to Simon’s annoyance.
After a while Simon dropped back until he was level with his servant. “Come on, Hugh. What’s the matter?”
“Hunh?” Hugh looked at him, and Simon was concerned to see the fear on his face.
“I’ve never seen you like this before, what’re you so worried about?”
“I’ve never had to fight serious before. I’ve never known anyone burn a traveller at the stake. I’m just worried that we could get caught by them.”
“But there were only two of them. We should be able to defend ourselves against two.”
“Two knights? Two men in full armour? Two men who’re prepared to risk eternal damnation for killing an abbot? You think we can protect ourselves against them? God!”
Simon rode forward, his face frowning at his servant’s anxiety. It was understandable, certainly, but the bailiff was irritated that his own man could already be anxious. It seemed to show how other people would feel, scared and fearful of travelling until the killers were caught.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, both deep in their own thoughts. The sky was slightly overcast, with thin, watery clouds moving swiftly over the sky and keeping the main heat of the sun for themselves. They were forced to keep up a good pace merely to keep warm, much to Simon’s delight and Hugh’s disgust, and they seemed to cover the distance in no time.
When they arrived at Clanton, Simon was surprised to find David, the young monk, standing quietly leaning against the gate post to a field, and apparently meditating.
“Good morning, David.”
“Hello, bailiff,” he said, but there was no cheeriness in the welcome, only a kind of blank confusion, bordering on despair.
“Are you alright, David?” asked Simon, feeling sympathy stirring at the sight of the obvious misery of the man.
The monk glanced up at him, with a look of loathing, as if furious at such a facile question. “Alright? Alright? After what we saw yesterday? An abbot killed like a heretic? How can I be alright?” His voice dropped to a low mutter, like a child who has been cheated of a promised toy. “We set off in good spirits, and now our leader is dead, murdered in an obscene way. Nothing can be alright again. All I want to do is go back home again, to Tychfield, and now because of this I must go on to Buckland and give my condolences to the priory. I’m sorry, bailiff,” he said suddenly, looking up at him with a small frown. “I’m sorry to be so curt, but I am not used to seeing such sights, and that it should have happened to him…”
The bailiff and his servant dropped from their horses and walked towards the farm with the monk. “I am sorry, it was a foolish question. But this is not: do you have any idea why the abbot was killed?”
Apart from a shrug of the shoulders, he received no response. Simon grunted, head down in his shoulders as he slouched along. “Hunh! I only wish I had the vaguest idea. Why on earth anyone would want to try to hold a man and then make off before he could demand the ransom money… and then to kill the hostage like that – it just makes no sense.”
The monk shrugged again. He was obviously just as confused.
Simon turned a frowning face to the young monk. “Tell me, David. How well did you know the abbot?”
“Not at all, really. I met him when he arrived at Tychfield, my abbey. He was on the way down to Buckland and I was asked to join him and take some goods and gifts with me. He wasn’t very talkative on the journey, he seemed too engrossed with his own thoughts for the most part, so I never really spoke to him much.”
“Oh. Oh, well. So what do you know about him?”
“Well, not very much. He came from France, I know that. I saw his letters of introduction from the pope.”
“From the pope himself?” Simon was surprised. “What was he doing going to Buckland, then. I’d have thought he would have stayed in Avignon.”
David cast a quick glance at Simon, narrowing his eyes and obviously assessing him. “He may have found it better to be out of France.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well the new pope didn’t like the last one, so quite a number of men that were in favour then aren’t any longer. I think the abbot was unpopular with the new pope and he was given Buckland to get him out of France.”
“Oh?”
“He never wanted to talk about it, but…” He fell silent and pensive for a moment, but then continued in a rush, as if he wanted to get the words out before he could change his mind. “Well, I think that’s what happened. I think he wasn’t in favour any more. I think the new pope heard about something he had done and he was sent here to be out of the way, and the fact of it hurt him deeply – especially his pride. He was very proud.”
“Why do you say that?”
The monk gave a short laugh, sounding a little bitter. “I’m a monk! I may be young and new to the order, but even so… We’re supposed to be humble. He behaved like a knight in the way he treated others, always arrogant and often abusive. There were several times when he got drunk and insulted other people, and we had to calm them to stop him fighting them. But if you want to know more about the abbot, you’ll need to speak to brother Matthew. He came over with the abbot from France. He must know something about him.”
“Which is brother Matthew?”
“He’s the old one, the happy one – well, usually, he’s not happy now. Poor man! He seems to have taken the whole affair worse than any of us. I suppose because he came over with the abbot from France.”
“Were they friends?”
“Oh, I suppose so… that is… well, yes.” He seemed unsure.
They continued in silence for the rest of the journey. David seemed to almost regret having said as much as he already had and merely grunted at any attempt at further conversation, leaving Simon with the uncomfortable sensation of being a confidante without the pleasure of a secret to hold. He was relieved when they finally came up to the farmyard of Clanton Barton, and he looked forward to speaking to the others with anticipation, hoping that they would be able to shed some light on the affair.
