"What, then, does Sir Simon have to do with these stolen books?" the sheriff asked.
"Somehow Sir Simon and Michael of Longridge learned that they had in common a dislike of me. My enemy's enemy is my friend."
"Ah," Lord Gilbert went to pulling at his beard, a thing which he did when puzzling out a riddle, "but how would an abbey's servants know where Master Wyclif's chamber is, to despoil him of his books and be seen by no other in the Hall?"
"I am certain there is among the Benedictines at Canterbury Hall a man who knows Michael of Longridge and who dislikes Master John and would see him driven away."
"There is friction among the scholars at Canterbury Hall?" Sir Roger asked.
"There is always friction among scholars. But ill feelings at Canterbury Hall run deep. Four scholars are Benedictines and eight are seculars."
"And Master Wyclif is a secular," the sheriff completed the thought.
"The villains who beat Sir Simon and would have harmed you will be on the road back to Eynsham," Lord Gilbert asserted. "If we return to the castle for horses and men we may overtake them."
Sir Simon and his squire we left with the Augustinians and hastened to the castle. There was no time to call at the Stag and Hounds for Bruce and the palfrey, so Arthur and I found ourselves mounted on horses from the castle marshalsea.
We did not receive the pick of the stables. Lord Gilbert, Sir Roger, the grooms and sergeants galloped on ahead. By the time Arthur and I had passed Oseney Abbey all that remained to show that they had passed were hoofprints in the mud.
We were near to Swinford we came upon a cluster of men and horses in the road. As we closed upon the group I saw that two men lay motionless in the mud. One of these was of great size.
Lord Gilbert stood over the supine form of Odo Grindecobbe. "Did not wish to be apprehended," he said by way of greeting as I dismounted. The man was alive, but a bloody stain upon his surcoat said he would not be so for long. The wound was through his belly, which no man is likely to survive.
Lord Gilbert, Sir Roger, and their party had surprised the miscreants but a few moments earlier. Sir Simon's assailants had made no attempt to scatter or escape, evidently not thinking they were the quarry of the horsemen bearing down upon them. When they learned it was so, two surrendered their weapons meekly. Only two attempted combat. One of these now lay dead, the other, Grindecobbe, lay in the road with his great cudgel beside him. He had made to swing the club at Sir Roger when he dismounted, but the warder saw and ran him through with his dagger before he could complete the stroke.
There was much I wished to learn from Grindecobbe before he died. I knelt in the mud beside him and saw his eyes turn to me. His lips were twisted in pain and his hands lay pressed against the wound in his belly.
"I am Hugh de Singleton. Who sent you to Oxford to do me injury?"
The man did not reply. His eyes traveled to Lord Gilbert, then back to me.
"'Twas Michael of Longridge, was it not?" I demanded.
Grindecobbe slowly nodded his great, shaggy head.
"And he sent you also over the wall of Canterbury Hall to seize Master Wyclif's books, did he not?"
"Aye," he whispered weakly. Perhaps the giant knew that death was near; that speaking truth would not lead him to the gallows. The sheriff does not hang a corpse. And most men would prefer to meet the Lord Christ with truth on their lips rather than a lie.
"And you broke the thatcher's ladder while at the deed?"
Again he nodded, then spoke hesitantly. "Brought a ladder, but seen another an' put both to use."
"You were paid well for this?"
He nodded again.
"Why did you murder Robert Salley?" I was not certain he had done so, but thought the accusation could do no harm.
"Wouldn't say where the book was," the dying man whispered. Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth and left a trail across his cheek as it dripped to the road.
"How did Salley come to have it?"
Grindecobbe was silent for a moment, as if harboring his strength. "He was kin to Brother Michael. 'E knew the lad would try to sell it… an' when you learned of it would set you on the wrong trail."
By the time Grindecobbe concluded this speech his voice had fallen to a whisper I could hear only with my ear near to his lips. I could learn no more from the fellow. His breath became shallow, then stopped. His eyes stared, unseeing, toward the clouded sky. We who yet lived crossed ourselves over the corpse.
The two dead men were hoisted across a horse and two of the sheriff's men doubled upon another. With the two abbey servants afoot, our party splashed across the Thames at Swinford and approached Eynsham Abbey as the sun touched the tree-tops to the west of the town.
When the porter learned the rank of his visitors he immediately sent for Abbot Thurstan. The elderly monk tottered across the abbey yard a few moments later. He recognized me, and guessed that my appearance with Lord Gilbert and Sir Roger and four of his servants, two now corpses, boded ill for the abbey. He directed the dead taken to the church and ushered me, Lord Gilbert, and the sheriff to his chamber.
The west windows of the abbot's chamber were dark when I concluded my account. Some of the tale he knew already. When I was done he rang for a lay brother and sent the man to fetch Michael of Longridge.
The monk protested innocence when his crimes were set before him. But Abbot Thurstan would have no perjury and soon had truth from him. It was as I had suspected; a monk of Canterbury Hall gave instruction so that the thieves might find Master John's chamber, have the books, and be gone. Brother Hamon had indeed hoped to force Wyclif from his place as Warden of Canterbury Hall.
Brother Michael had withheld Sentences when the other volumes were sent to Westminster, for he, like all scholars, admired an excellent book, well bound. Only when he saw I was diligent on the trail of the missing books did he send it to his cousin so as to mislead me when the book should appear in an Oxford stationer's shop. He thought Salley would be able to sell the volume and disappear amongst the young scholars of Oxford before any could trace him. The monk seemed genuinely grieved to know his plan led to Salley's death. Grindecobbe was sent to retrieve the book when Brother Michael saw his plan was failing, and strangled the youth when he would not give it up.
Brother Michael had sought his old friend Sir Simon's aid, not knowing the knight had his own cause to dislike me. And when early that day he sent Grindecobbe and three others to Oxford it was to seek and murder me, not Sir Simon. But as we are much alike in appearance, and Sir Simon's new squire wore apparel of the color expected of Arthur, it was Sir Simon who suffered for my sake.
"What was to be done with the books in London?" the abbot asked. "Surely the abbey librarian would wonder why they appeared."
"I sent word to Brother Giles at Westminster that we at Eynsham had received a legacy. I told him that many of the books in the bequest we already possessed. I offered to sell those, and he accepted. I know how we at Eynsham suffer for our poverty," he continued, as if to justify his crime.
"You will set out tomorrow for Westminster," Abbot Thurstan decreed when Brother Michael had done with his incrimination. "Seek the carters who took the books to Westminster and pay them to accompany you. It is the abbey's responsibility to redeem Master Wyclif's books. Tell the carters I will pay what they require. Has Westminster sent payment?"
"Nay," Brother Michael muttered. "Not yet."
"Then we will not need to take funds. You are dismissed," the abbot said with a wave of a blue-veined hand.
Lord Gilbert and Sir Roger were invited to occupy the abbot's chamber for the night and we other guests were assigned lodging according to rank.
In the grey light of dawn I bid Lord Gilbert farewell. He would return to Bampton and Arthur and I, with the sheriff and his men, would escort Brother Michael on the first segment of his journey.