‘Ja!’ Udo had grunted, the pain still overwhelming. ‘The verdammte saddle broke!’
‘I see. You put your arm out to break your fall, of course? Yes, as I concluded. It is a simple enough case, then. It is either a broken arm or a badly dislocated one. There is no bleeding?’
‘Not that I’ve noticed.’
The physician was nodding and looking bored, as though this matter was so simple and lacking in professional interest as to be almost beneath his skills. He motioned to his assistants. ‘Remove his shirt.’
At least these two were gentle enough. They gradually tugged the shirt from his shoulders and eased it from him until Udo was bare-chested. He glanced at his shoulder and saw how swollen and sore it looked. ‘Can you-’
‘My dear fellow, a barber could mend this!’ Ralph smiled. ‘Now, we shall need a good strong piece of wood. A lance would be ideal, but anything of that dimension would be fine.’
Udo could remember the rest of that day with perfect clarity. Apparently the operation was most straightforward. That was what the physician said. They had set Udo kneeling on his table, one assistant in front, the other behind, both holding a long wooden pole over their shoulders, which passed beneath Udo’s underarm. The physician gripped his wrist, and then, eyeing his patient speculatively, he yanked down with all his weight while the assistants pushed upwards. Udo shrieked with the agony of it, trying to stand and wrench his wrist from the damned physician’s grasp, but he could do nothing while the assistants raised the pole under his arm. And then, suddenly, there was a strange, painful, and yet noticeably right crunch. Something slipped sideways or backwards, or something, and although there was a sharp stabbing for a moment, instantly he felt indescribably improved. ‘Mein Gott!’
‘I felt that!’ the physician smiled, leaving go his hold.
The pole was removed and Udo flexed his hand. There was a sensation of pins and needles, but the feeling was already returning. His shoulder was painful, yes, but already he could move his arm a little without agony.
‘Very good, master. I am glad to have been able to help you,’ the physician said. ‘Now, is there anything else I can do for you? I specialise in hernias and haemorrhoids,’ he added hopefully.
Udo shook his head slowly, unwilling still to jolt his renewed arm. ‘I need nothing more. You may present your bill to Henry Potell the saddler.’
‘So he informed me. Very well. I thank you.’
Ralph had gestured to his assistants, who had packed their bags and taken them and their pole away. Soon Udo was left alone in his hall, flexing his hand and wondering how much that short course of treatment would end up costing the saddler.
There had been plenty of time to muse over his misfortune that day. He had gone to buy the damned saddle only because he wished to get to know the Potell family better, and introduce himself to their daughter Julia; instead he had hurt himself, scared Henry with talk of suing him, and probably petrified his wife Mabilla and the girl into the bargain! Udo had several times thought of going to the saddler’s house in the last days to put things right, but somehow he had never quite summoned the courage.
This appeared a perfect time to talk to Henry. They were both away from home, there was no reminder of that disastrous day, and Udo could perhaps hint at his interest still in Henry’s daughter. Yes, that was surely the best approach.
‘I have not seen your delightful lady for some days.’
Henry stiffened slightly. ‘I suppose your shoulder was too painful to be able to go out,’ he said drily.
‘Your physician was most competent. I have no complaints. He has mended me well.’
Henry was still apparently reticent. His eyes, Udo noticed, kept flitting towards the Charnel Chapel.
‘Henry — Master Saddler — I should like to talk to you about a matter of delicacy.’
‘You mean to ruin me?’
There was a depth of sadness in that question and in Henry’s eyes as he uttered those words which Udo felt compelled to ease. ‘Master Saddler, I have no intention of pursuing you. Any man can,’ he swallowed, ‘be unfortunate enough to have an accident. It was surely not your intention to see me hurled from my horse, so how could I prosecute you? That would be the act of a cruel man.’
Henry appeared stunned. He stopped dead, and turned to Udo with an expression of complete bafflement. ‘You mean you won’t sue me?’
‘I have not instructed a pleader, no, and I shall not, I think. No, I believe that you and I should become friends.’
‘I’m sure that’d be good,’ Henry stammered. ‘But, how can I thank you?’
Udo cleared his throat. ‘There is one way …’ he said hesitantly.
Without realising that she was the subject of a discussion between Udo and her father, Julia wrapped a neckerchief about her shoulders and pulled it tighter as she walked into the hall. Her mother was already there, sitting at her favourite place on a stool before the table, near to the fire. Against the cool of the afternoon, she was wearing her cote-hardie and a blanket wrapped about her, but Julia was sure that it was not the draughts but the family’s straits that chilled Mabilla’s blood.
‘Mother, may I fetch you some wine?’
Mabilla glanced up at her and gave a smile. ‘No, I am fine, dear. Just waiting for your father to return.’
‘Where has he gone?’
‘He has some business to attend to,’ Mabilla responded slowly.
‘It’s nothing to do with that odious man, then?’
‘You mean Master Udo?’
‘God, no, not him! That revolting old pensioner, Will. I hate him, Mother. He looks at me like a man staring at a piece of meat on the butcher’s slab. He has no compassion or sympathy for others. How could Father have grown to know him? And how can he let a fellow like that in the house?’
‘You shouldn’t speak of him like that,’ Mabilla countered, but without anger. ‘Your father knew Brother William a long time ago.’
‘I’ve never seen him before. It must have been a very long time ago that he left here.’
‘No matter. You should know your father better than to think that he would desert his friends just because they’ve been away for a long while.’
‘Will that German seek to ruin us, Mother?’ Julia said after a moment’s silence.
‘He may not, Daughter. Let us hope not.’
‘I had thought …’
‘Yes?’ Mabilla pressed.
‘The way that he stares at me in church … like a man besotted. And when he asked for the saddle, I felt he was considering making an offer for my hand,’ said Julia. She hadn’t broached the subject before with her mother, and now she could feel her cheeks flush as she spoke.
Mabilla eyed her. ‘You mean you’d consider taking his hand? A man so very much older than you?’
‘He would be experienced of things that I’d know nothing about, and he’d be able to look after me.’
‘For a while, perhaps. But he would be certain to die, wouldn’t he? And then what would you do?’
Julia lifted her chin. ‘I should have thought that he would be able to protect me after he had died. I would be able to count on at least a third part of his estate even if there was a child, according to the law, and he might settle more on me if he wished.’
‘I don’t think there is much likelihood of his wishing to settle anything on you now, dear,’ her mother said sadly. ‘I had no idea you guessed his intentions. I only realised myself when your father told me of the gift he brought for you and me. Then I wondered. We hardly know the man, after all, and there was no need for him to bring us cakes, but then it seemed so obvious.’ She sighed. ‘I shouldn’t think he’d want to treat us like that again.’