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.