Sir Simon lay unconscious, his fur coat yet upon his shoulders. The garment was torn in several places where daggers had penetrated, and drying blood caked the punctures. A small fire spluttered in a hearth at one end of the hall. I asked for the blaze to be refreshed and the wounded men to be moved closer to the flames.
The herbalist frowned at this imposition in his bailiwick until Lord Gilbert informed the friar that I was a surgeon and would take charge of the wounded men. The fellow had already seen that the injuries were beyond his skills, so required no more urging to do as I had asked.
The squire wore a blue cotehardie and black chances. He seemed not so badly injured as Sir Simon. I required of the herbalist and his assistant that they strip the youth of his torn clothing and bathe his wounds in wine. The squire was alert to his condition and so was able to raise arms and legs to assist his benefactors. A servant brought an arm-load of wood for the fire while I conducted this brief examination of the squire.
Sir Simon was surely the object of the attack, not his purse, for that was yet fastened to a belt about his cotehardie. I asked the herbalist for a table, and when it was produced two friars lifted Sir Simon to it and placed him before the fire. The blaze and a weak afternoon sun which penetrated the chamber windows gave enough light that I could attend the man's many wounds.
I would need my instruments, that was sure. I sent Arthur to Canterbury Hall to fetch them and the pack of herbs from the guest chamber, then bent to a closer examination of the wounded Sir Simon.
A blow from sword or dagger had nearly removed his left ear. It dangled from a strip of gristle and would need to be sewn back to his head. Perhaps the same stroke which took Sir Simon's ear had also left a gash across his cheek. This wound lay garishly open, but did not threaten death. He would go through life with a vivid scar, did not his other wounds dispatch him to the next world. I noted also, with satisfaction, his split and swollen lip, an injury which needed no attention from me.
Sir Roger and Lord Gilbert stood silent while two friars and I divested the immobile Sir Simon of his clothing. He had taken three dagger thrusts. One was upon his leg and was of small concern, but two entered his chest between ribs. If either penetrated to the heart or lungs he must die. Indeed, if one had penetrated to the heart he must be dead already. I laid my ear against Sir Simon's chest and listened. The heartbeat was steady. I opened his swollen lips and saw no blood there, but was greeted with a foul stench. These were good signs that heart and lungs lay unmarred. Not the foul stink. I knew not the cause of that or what it might signify. Perhaps his fur coat was heavy and the dagger thrusts did not penetrate to his vitals.
Several bruises colored Sir Simon's body. A great welt was rising and taking color across his ribs. I prodded the bruise and it was well the man was insensible, for I was sure a rib or two lay broken under my fingers. Such manipulation would surely have brought him agony. I found myself wishing he was awake. It is my obligation to aid all men when they are in distress, as it is for all Christian men, but I felt no duty to release such a man from pain he might deserve.
No man will remain so long insensible unless he has taken a blow to his skull. I ran fingers through Sir Simon's scalp and found a swelling readily enough. This was not so large as to kill a man, I thought. Thomas atte Bridge gave me just such a lump when he knocked me senseless with a beech pole in Alvescot Churchyard.
Arthur arrived breathless with my instruments and herb pouch. I set to work first on Sir Simon's ear and lacerated cheek. This was my first opportunity to sew a man's ear back to his head. It was a more troublesome business than I had imagined. I had misgivings about the task when I was finished. I was not confident the ear would live again, reattached to its accustomed place. Did it not, it would decay and fall away, and Sir Simon would find another reason to wish ill of me.
I next sewed up the gash across his cheek. I used many small stitches, but he would wear the mark of this laceration for what remained of his days.
The punctures in his body and leg were quickly closed, with but two or three stitches at each wound. When I had done I bathed all these perforations with wine and judged myself satisfied. Lord Gilbert, Sir Roger, the warder, and Arthur had looked on silently while I was at my work patching Sir Simon. The warder, I noted, seemed rather green of the face when I looked up from the last sutures on Sir Simon's leg.
The squire lay in his braes upon another table. He shivered though the fire now warmed his corner of the room. He was a collection of bruises and lacerations, but none would take his life, nor did he require a needle and silk thread to close his wounds. His cuts had been bathed. Time would heal his hurts. I told the herbalist's assistant to find some garment for the youth. His chauces and cotehardie were torn and muddy and it would not serve to soil his wounds with such filth.
Sir Simon was yet senseless. Nothing could be learned from him of the attack. The squire, however, had recovered his wits, so when he clothed himself I directed him to a bench drawn near the fire and sought to learn more of what I already guessed.
"What happened in the street? Who set upon you?"
"Don't know. Sir Simon came to this place to find succor after that fellow," he pointed to Arthur, "struck him."
"I treated his wounded lip with oil of ragwort," the friary herbalist commented. That explained the stench when I inspected Sir Simon's mouth.
"We departed the friary an' Sir Simon spoke of seeking aid against another attack. We'd traveled but a few paces on the Canditch when four men set upon us of a sudden."
"Did the men speak, to you or each other, during the assault?" I asked.
"Nay, not while they was at us. But when they was done an' left us in the mud I heard one laugh an' say, `He'll not be so eager now to seek books, eh?"'
Sir Simon had visited the Red Dragon seeking, I was sure, Sentences. Was this the felon's meaning? Or was it me they wished to dissuade from pursuit of Master John's books?
Since my time in the castle gaol I had begun to grow a beard. Sir Simon is above average height, as am I, and possesses a large nose, like mine. He wears a fur coat, and was accompanied this day by a squire dressed in black chauces and a blue cotehardie. Arthur wears the blueand-black livery of a groom to Lord Gilbert Talbot. Was it me that was expected to lay battered and perhaps dying in the street?
"Was one of the four a large man?"
"Oh, aye," the squire agreed. "A head taller than Sir Simon an' beefy. He swung a cudgel big around as my arm an' caught Sir Simon in the ribs. Took him off his feet an' dropped 'im in the road three paces away from where he'd stood."
That explained the broken ribs. And if the same cudgel caught Sir Simon across the head it would explain his continued slumber.
Sir Roger had listened silently to the squire's tale, now he spoke. "The large man; Odo Grindecobbe of Eynsham, you think?"
"Aye. He and his band were to seek me, but mistook Sir Simon for me, I think."
Lord Gilbert had been leaning against a wall, but stood erect at this assertion. "Why would a servant to the monks at Eynsham wish to harm you?"
"Because one of the monks has stolen Master Wyclif's books, and knows I am close on his trail."
"Monks are forbidden to leave the monastery without the abbot's consent," Lord Gilbert replied. "How could a monk of Eynsham travel to Oxford and return with books?"
"He did not do so. He planned the deed, and sent servants to carry it out."