Wolf Wood (Part One): The Gathering Storm (18 page)

Harald fumbled
for his reading glasses.

'Don't bother.
I'll read it for you.'

The little man
snatched the parchment back and held it in two hands as if
displaying a holy relic.

'This licence
is issued by the dean's office of the Salisbury diocese and bears
the customary seal.' He coughed. 'It certifies that I, Piers Frost,
is licensed as a summoner and be charged with the doleful
responsibility of summoning moral transgressors to appear before
the bishop's Halimote to answer accusations laid against them.'

Harald's heart
sank.

'It has come
to my notice that you, Harald Gascoigne, have been engaging in
illicit intercourse with a certain Sister Alice de Lambert, a lady
in holy orders and currently matron of the almshouse in this town
of Sherborne. You have had carnal knowledge of a Bride of Christ
and, as such, have conspired to cuckold Our Saviour Jesus. What say
you to this accusation?'

'Sister Alice
is not in holy orders.'

The summoner
switched tack.

'You have had
sexual dealings with a woman who is not your wife. You have
committed the abominable sin of fornication.'

The lawyer in
Harald came to his rescue.

'I find your
accusations preposterous. You have not a shred of evidence to
support your vile claims which, in my view, are aimed at soliciting
money rather than furthering the cause of moral rectitude. I must
warn you that I am acquainted with the penalties for soliciting
bribes and will not hesitate …'

'Ee Awe!'

The summoner
made the noise of a donkey.

Harald
remembered the big-eared creature that was crawling around in the
bushes while he was making love to Alice.

'Oh, Harald!'
The summoner imitated a female voice. 'I thought I would die a maid
but you have saved me from that fate.'

Harald's blood
boiled. For the first time in his life, he wanted to hit someone.
His most intimate secrets had been spied upon. He was being
threatened. Far worse … Alice was being threatened. In the
intoxicating moments of a May evening, he'd expressed his love for
her in the way she so much desired. Now, in the clear light of day,
it was impossible to explain why two people of mature years would
perform in the bushes like a pair of spotty-faced adolescents. The
pinch-faced man examined him like a leach intent on extracting
every drop of blood.

'A summons
before the bishop's court would be most distressing.'

The little man
spoke like a concerned relative out to minimise pain.

'Whatever the
circumstances, it is something we should seek to avoid.'

Harald knew
what would follow.

'I am fully
cognisant of your concerns for the lady and I do not, for one
moment, call them into question. Sadly, there are those who do not
share my sanguine view of the relationship you have entered
into.'

Harald was in
no mood to play out the charade.

'How much do
you want?'

The summoner
gave him a nod of recognition.

'Three silver
shillings would be a modest recompense for the diligent care I
would seek to protect you.'

Harald opened
his pouch. He had strong views on paying bribes. When it came to
the point, he wasn't prepared to put them into practice. Alice must
be protected. He removed three silver coins and handed them
over.

'That is very
generous of you, Sir Harald.' The summoner put the coins in his
pouch. 'Now, I think I should inform you of some other news that
has come to my attention.'

Harald
wondered what new extortion would follow.'

'I am told the
abbot has instructed Bailiff Gallor to seize your son and your
servant, Robin. They are wanted on charges concerning the death of
the bailiff's dog and the theft of tallow. I would advise you to
remove them beyond Abbot Bradford's jurisdiction. By this, I mean
you would be well advised to take them back to your manor, which
lies outside the Abbot's Fee.'

'How
much?'

'A shilling
will suffice.'

Harald
produced another coin and wondered how many more would follow
before the whole hideous business was brought to a close.

***

The Julian was
packed with people of all ages. Robin was there and so were the
tinker and the Welsh boys. Robin was the centre of attention.
Richard Vowell found that amusing. The young man was being paraded
as a great masculine figure. Richard viewed him as the victim of an
over-caring mother who had gone to extreme lengths to shield her
son from the temptations of the sinful world. And she had succeeded
... until May Eve.

By all
accounts, Robin had made up for lost time.

Richard wasn't
interested. His attention was on a cart that had drawn up outside
the inn. He recognised it as one used by the abbey in the passion
plays. The huge vehicle was drawn by four horses and loaded with
theatrical props. A Dominican, whom he recognised as Friar Ashley,
sat beside the driver.

Richard nursed
a strong antipathy towards friars. In his view, they were as bad as
monks and far more dangerous. Monks were meant to stay in their
monasteries and pray for the salvation of souls. That didn't mean
they wouldn't take to wandering if the opportunity arose but, in
principle, they were meant to lead a cloistered life.

Friars, on the
other hand, were required to go out into the wider world and preach
the gospels. They owed direct allegiance to the Pope in Rome, sent
their ill-gotten gains to him and made a nuisance of themselves
wherever they went. Father Ashley came from the friary in
Gillingham and was a well-known troublemaker. He'd struck up a
relationship with Abbot Bradford and that made him particularly
loathsome.

Richard
watched as the friar climbed into the cart and handed a huge copper
cauldron to the driver and his boy. They placed it on the
cobblestones with great noise. It was market day and the town was
overflowing with country folk. A crowd began to gather. Men hoisted
children onto their shoulders. Small boys climbed trees and the
whores came out of the George to see what was happening.

At first, the
friar ignored his audience. He erected a table in the cart and
placed various items on it. One was a rush basket of the sort used
to serve junkets and other delicacies. The next was a simple wooden
cross. He draped a rosary over the cross then unfurled a painting
of an angel plucking souls from the gates of hell.

His three
props were now in place and the cauldron was emitting the pungent
smell of brimstone. Father Ashley raised his arms in an
all-embracing expression of love. Not even the poorest beggar or
the smallest child would think they were excluded from his
compassion.

'My friends. I
am here to tell you about the three joys.'

He had them in
his thrall, mixing their own Dorset dialect with phrases in Latin.
Richard decided to do the same. Everyone knew God spoke Latin.

'Let me tell
you about the first joy.'

The friar
removed a portion of cheese from the reed basket.

'The first is
the joy of worldly pleasures.'

He popped the
cheese in his mouth and leant towards the cauldron, which continued
to belch fumes.

'While we bide
our time on this mortal plane, amongst the temptations of the
flesh, it is easy to forget the terrors that await the sinner in
hell.'

At this point,
the wicker basket flew open and a small boy, dressed as a demon,
popped out. He waved a trident and hurled a bag of powder into the
cauldron. There was a bang and a shower of sparks. The powder was
followed by naked dolls, many badly singed from previous encounters
with the flames. They represented human souls passing through the
gates of hell.

Friar Ashley
peered into the acrid fumes.

'I ask you, my
friends. If a man, sitting at a table, furnished with delicious
meats and drinks, were to see a cauldron of brimstone into which he
would be thrown after he had dined … how would he enjoy his
meal?'

'He'd choke on
it,' someone shouted.

'Aye, my good friend. It would be no true joy. At the most it
would be but half a joy …
semiplenum
gaudiam est quando quis
.'

The friar
broke into Latin and the crowd knew they were hearing the very
words of God. They watched, entranced as he continued. 'The second
joy is that of communion with the Lord.' He held a cross in one
hand and a rosary in the other. 'We are here on this mortal plane
for but a little while. And, while we are here, our deeds will
determine how we shall be judged when that terrible Day of
Judgement comes. Great are the terrors which await the sinner who
does not repent. Awful are the spikes and flames …'

Then his voice
took on a soothing tone.

'But be ye not
afeared.'

He held out
his arms in another all-embracing expression of love and deep
compassion. 'The Lord Thy God is a merciful God. Through his Son
Jesus Christ thy sins may be forgiven. The Holy Father in Rome has
commanded my brother Dominicans to give thee solace in thine search
for salvation.'

The little boy
reappeared in the form of an angel with scorched wings. He jumped
down from the cart and plucked the blackened souls from the
cauldron, to the cheers of the crowd.

Richard
watched the spectacle with mounting fury. The mindless cretins were
responding to a cheap spectacle that was part conjuring trick and
part Punch and Judy. And Punch and Judy weren't even Christian.
They'd been brought back from the Saracen lands by the crusaders.
Richard wondered if any of the stupid idiots had the wit to see the
irony. He was reminded of something old Sir William Gascoigne had
said about the Beauforts and their allies:

When the time comes to get rid of those arseholes in
Westminster, use the army. Don't involve the masses ... they'll
only get in your way
.

Richard could
only agree. He listened as the friar brought his sermon to its
inevitable end and heard the clink of coins as they fell into his
bowl. The morons thought they could buy salvation. They were so
naïve as to think that the creator of the universe would listen to
a fat friar praying for their souls. He pushed his way to the edge
of the crowd and was about to re-enter the Julian when a voice
sounded in his ear.

'Master
Vowell, may I have a quiet word with you?'

A scrawny
little man appeared by his side.

'I think you
know who I am.'

Richard
screwed up his face.

'I smelt you a
long way off. Even with the air full of brimstone and the foul
odours of a farting friar, I couldn't miss your evil stench.'

'It is
ungracious to speak in such terms, Master Vowell.'

'It is uncivil
to accost me in such a way, Master Summoner.'

'I think you
know why I'm here.'

'You want to
screw some money out of me.'

'Master
Vowell, I am appalled to hear you speak like that. I come in a
spirit of friendship to warn you that your conjugal ways could be
the cause of great distress to yourself and a certain lady.'

'My conjugal
what?'

'You are
cohabiting with a woman to whom you are not espoused.'

'What's that
to you?'

'Should the
matter come to certain ears it would be my doleful duty to summon
you to attend the Halimote to answer charges of moral
depravity.'

Richard
grabbed the man by the neck.

'If you do
that, I shall consider it my doleful duty to give a full and
detailed account of the conjugal bliss enjoyed by a canon, two nuns
and half-a-dozen monks in this diocese, contrary to their vows of
chastity. I shall also produce witnesses to testify that you have
been taking bribes.'

'Pray.' The
summoner held up a pleading hand. 'I meant no threats or
malice.'

'That's all
right then.' Richard released his hold. 'You merely came to wish me
Good Morrow … is that it?'

The summoner
sank down and bowed.

'Good Morrow,
Master Vowell.'

***

William jumped
the gate and galloped back and forth in the manor yard, blowing on
a hunting horn. Harald arrived in time to see his mother hurry down
the outside stairs. He watched as she embraced the boy then
followed Robin to the stables. There were the usual signs of
neglect. After a few days absence, things were falling apart.

He left Robin
with the horses then went to the hall, expecting to find a mob of
layabouts warming themselves by the fire but there was no one
there. Nor was there anyone in the barn or brewery. The sheep pens
were full but the horse paddock was empty. He hurried round to the
smithy and found it deserted. So was the chapel and adjoining
office.

The sound of
running water sent him to the laundry. A girl looked up nervously
as he entered. He failed to recognise her as the shy young woman
he'd mistaken for a whore a year earlier.

'Where is
everyone?'

'I don't
rightly know, Sire.'

She retreated
behind a table piled with wet sheets.

'But there's
no one here.' Harald advanced on her. 'You must know what's
happened to them.'

'No, Sire.'
The girl picked up a wooden club. 'I just be here to do the washing
of the clothes. You should ask her ladyship. It's not for me to
say.' She brought the club down on the sheets and beat them
furiously.

Harald hurried
back to the hall and climbed the stairs to his mother's private
apartment. It was empty but the door leading outside was open. He
went to it and stood in the porch. His mother was still in the
yard, grasping the bridle of William's horse.

'Mother, may I
have a word with you?'

'When I have
finished talking to William.'