tenebrous shape rise from a crouch behind the churchyard wall and with one motion bring a club down toward my head. All the stars and planets in their heavenly orbs flashed before my eyes. Then, inexplicably, they went dark.
When I awoke the sky to the east above the church tower was pale with approaching dawn. I was, I am sure, also pale, for a different reason. My head throbbed, my eyes refused to focus, and I felt a great lump on my skull just above my left ear. It is good that I follow the fashion much approved by young men of wrapping a long liripipe about my head. The layers of wool softened the blow somewhat, else I might have died there by the churchyard.
I managed to bring myself upright so much as to prop my back against the wall, at the base of which I had evidently spent the night. The cause of my headache lay beside me in the grass: a length of pollarded ash as long as a man is tall. Whoever laid this pole across my head had dropped it when it had served his purpose. I dragged the shaft across my knees and tried to inspect it but my eyes refused to converge. But ’twas light enough that I recognized where I had seen others like it. A stack of similar, longer poles lay across the street in Gerard’s toft, awaiting use as rafters for huts which might never be built for the decline in population after the plague, which has struck twice in thirteen years.
The pole had been cut several years earlier, I think, and was well dried and tough; much tougher than my skull, for the wood was unmarked whereas the same could not be said for my scalp.
I used the club for a crutch and, with both hands fixed to it, lifted myself to my feet. Doing so made the world sway before me, but with the stick I regained my balance and staggered off from Alvescot toward Bampton and the relief I might find in my store of soothing herbs.
Dawn was but a promise in the glow above the treetops, and the path was rutted. I stumbled and fell twice, and would have done so many more times had not the pole which was laid across my skull now served to keep me aright.
I met no man on the road to Bampton. The hour was early, and before the Angelus Bell few had yet crawled from their beds. But the sun was up beyond the spire of St Beornwald’s Church when the castle and town came into view. The walk in crisp morning air had restored my senses, so that I was able to approach the castle gatehouse with a surer step than when I began the journey at Alvescot.
The pole which laid me low having served its purpose, I was about to discard it against the castle wall when it occurred to my addled brain that a close inspection in good light might yield some clue as to who had attacked me and why. It might have, but did not.
Wilfred had the gate open and portcullis up. I stiffened my back and straightened my stride and passed through the gatehouse and castle yard with no man questioning a weaving path or halting gait.
I would be false, however, did I not admit to relief when I entered the hall and stood before my chamber door. I leaned the pole against the stones and was about to push open the door — a task which required two hands, for the hall was yet dim in the dawn light and my vision took that moment to again set all about me in a whirl — when I heard footsteps behind me in the hall.
I turned, too quickly. The movement, combined with lightheadedness, caused me to lose my balance. I staggered against the door, which provided no support but swung open. I ungracefully fell back into my chamber. For the next few days it was not only my head which was sore. My rump met the hard stone flags. I am of slender build. I had not John Kellet’s foresight to prepare an adequate cushion for such a tumble.
’Twas Alice atte Bridge, with a mug of ale and a loaf fresh from the castle oven, whose approach caused my clumsy fall.
“Oh!” the girl exclaimed. She set the platter on the flags of the hall and rushed to my aid.
I had set the pole leaning against the wall beside my door. But in my harried state I had set it slightly askew. As the girl knelt to assist me the pole slid from its place against the wall and fell through the open door. I had turned my head toward Alice, so did not see it coming. The club gave me a solid smack across my right ear before clattering off on the flagging. I was become symmetrical. Within the hour another lump, smaller than the first, appeared on my skull above the right ear to balance the bulge behind my left.
Alice assisted me to my feet. She had nearly to do so a second time, for in some heat I kicked at the offending pole. Another error. I was unsteady upon my feet and nearly found the flags again.
The girl propelled me to my bench, uttering solicitudes the while. I suspect she thought me drunk. It was just as well she not know the real reason for my condition. I sat gratefully upon the bench, and gathered my wits while Alice gathered my breakfast. My stomach rebelled at the sight of the loaf, but I needed the ale. I thanked the girl for her aid and bid her notify Thomas that I was unwell and wished not to be disturbed.
When she was gone and the door shut behind her I made my way to my cupboard. I found my pouch of hemp seeds and another of lettuce and mixed a double measure of each into the ale. My gut was not pleased to receive this physic. I feared the first swallow might be rejected. But not so. I drank the remaining mixture cautiously, then found my bed. When I awoke my stomach was growling with hunger and my chamber window was pale in the evening twilight.
My head throbbed, but my step was steady as I made my way to the kitchen. The cook had learned that I was unwell and had the foresight to prepare a basket should I desire a meal. But as this was Friday, and Ember Day, the basket held but a piece of fish and a small loaf of maslin. Alice was completing her duties in the kitchen and pointed me to my dinner. I wonder was it the cook who was so considerate, or Alice? I took the basket to my chamber and ate by candlelight.
I was not sleepy, though ’twas now dark and my stomach was full. My mind was occupied with considering who might have attacked me, and why, while my fingers and mouth were busy at supper.
If my quarry the night before was poaching Lord Gilbert’s coneys, it seemed to me likely that he would be at the business this night also, visiting his snares before some fox might rob him of his catch. As I had slept the day through and my head was yet knobby and sore I thought it probable that I would lay sleepless in my bed. I might as well spend a sleepless night watching the road for a poacher. Who, I assumed, was he who had whacked me across the head.
I roused Wilfred from his bed, and when he had opened the gate and raised the portcullis I made my way to Mill Street. The slender moon would rise even later this night, so I walked in darkness between fields of oats and peas.
My way became even more obscure, the night around me even blacker, when I came to the edge of the forest. If a man followed me this night I should never see him, even did he carry a pale sack over a shoulder. But there was advantage in this. I wore a dark cotehardie and grey chauces. I would also be invisible.
I crept carefully to the side of the road and felt before me as a blind man for obstacles which might trip me. I had no wish to fall on my bruised head. Only a few feet from the road I found a stump. Against the black background of the wood I could not be seen though I was but three or four paces from the verge. A man in the road would be nearly invisible to me, as well, but my advantage was my silence. A poacher, no matter how dark the night or hushed his step, could be heard as he approached. I would be silent upon my stump.
The waning moon rose over the town well past midnight. From my perch on the rotting stump I had a clear view of Mill Street from the castle until it entered the forest. In the darkness of the wood I was sure I was yet invisible. This lunar advantage gave me great satisfaction, but it was the only satisfaction I would have that night. Sitting on a cold, jagged stump provided little gratification and the only living thing I saw was an owl which swooped soundlessly from a tree to capture a mouse at the edge of a field of oats adjacent to the forest. Well, I think it was a mouse.
I watched the sky behind St Beornwald’s spire lighten for the second day in a row. It is pleasing to watch a new day begin, to hear birds twitter as they awaken and begin the business of seeking sustenance. Of course, it is also pleasing to lay in a warm bed in the coldest part of the night, as dawn glows golden in the east. This dawn would have been more profitably spent in bed.
I rose from the stump, stretched my stiffened limbs, and set off for the castle and breakfast. Smoke ascended from the kitchen oven into the still morning air, and a warm loaf awaited me there. As this day was also Ember Day the loaf would not be wheaten, but coarse maslin of barley and rye. I took the loaf and a mug of ale to my chamber and pondered my ignorance while I ate.
The catalog of things I did not know seemed to grow more rapidly than the list of things I did know. Why did Henry atte Bridge kill Alan the beadle, if indeed he did?
Why was Henry struck down in the forest, and who did the deed? Why did John Kellet receive blows from
