Moonlight dappled the garth. Keeping to the shadows, they crept along the south walk side by side. Both of them started when an owl hooted. Kenelm was the first to recover. He gave a snigger.
‘Brother Frewine!’
‘He was good to us, Kenelm.’
‘Starving us to death? You call that being good?’
‘We could have been reported to Brother Paul.’
‘He’d have beaten us and starved us.’
‘Be thankful for Brother Frewine’s kindness.’
‘The only thing I’ll be thankful for is food and drink.’
Kenelm led the way past the refectory to the kitchen. Its door was unlocked and he opened it as silently as he could. Elaf darted inside after his friend then put his back to the door as it was shut again. Their eyes needed a few moments to adjust to the darkness. Vague shapes began to emerge. Kenelm let out a chuckle but Elaf was having second thoughts about the enterprise.
‘What if we are caught?’ he said anxiously.
‘Nobody will catch us.’
‘But they’ll see that the food has gone, Kenelm.’
‘Not if we choose carefully. Who is going to miss a few apples from the basket? Or some bread from the bakehouse?’
‘It is stealing.’
‘No, Elaf,’ reasoned the other. ‘It is taking what we should have enjoyed at supper. There is no theft involved. Come on.’
‘I’m not happy about this.’
‘Then stay hungry, you little coward!’
Elaf was stung. ‘I’m no coward.’
‘Prove it!’
‘I’ve done that by taking the risk of coming here.’
‘You’ve been shaking like a leaf all the way,’ said Kenelm, growing in confidence. ‘But for me, you wouldn’t have dreamt of taking what’s rightfully yours. Out of my way.’
He pushed Elaf aside and crossed to a basket of apples, picking two at random and sinking his teeth voraciously into each one alternately. His friend could not hold back. Hunger got the better of caution and he dived forward to grab his own share of the bounty. The two of them were soon gobbling food as fast as they could grab it and swilling it down with a generous swig of ale. It was a midnight feast that was all the more satisfying because of the daring circumstances in which it was being consumed. As his stomach filled and the ale made its impact, Kenelm’s high spirits increased. He wanted more than a meal. It was time to shake off the strictures of the abbey and play.
The first apple core hit Elaf on the back of the head.
‘Aouw!’ he cried, turning around. A second missile struck him full in the face. ‘Stop it, Kenelm!’
‘Make me stop,’ taunted the other.
‘I will!’
Taking a last bite from the apple in his hand, Elaf hurled the core at his friend and secured a direct hit. Success emboldened him and he searched for more ammunition. Caution was now thrown to the wind. Laughing aloud, the two of them ran around the kitchen, hurling fruit, bread and anything else which came to hand. It was only when Elaf backed into a table that the game was brought to a sudden halt. The table overturned and its rows of wooden bowls scattered noisily over the stone floor. From the empty kitchen, the sound reverberated tenfold. Keen ears picked it up and within minutes a monk came to investigate. A lighted candle in his hand, he flung open the door of the kitchen.
The two novices were hiding behind the fallen table.
‘What do we do now?’ whispered Elaf, trembling with fear.
‘Get out quickly.’
‘How?’
‘This way.’
Kenelm threw a last apple core to distract the monk then dashed through the door of the bakehouse with Elaf at his heels. They ran into the adjoining brewhouse with its cloying stink and dived behind a barrel to see if they were being followed. Pursuit was vengeful.
‘Where are you?’ roared a voice.
Elaf quailed. ‘It’s Brother Paul!’
‘Come here, you little devils!’
‘No thank you,’ said Kenelm under his breath.
Pulling his friend in his wake, he groped his way to the back door and eased it open. The Master of the Novices saw their silhouettes and lumbered after them, tripping over a wooden pail on the way and cursing inwardly. Pain served to add extra speed and urgency to his pursuit. Hauling himself up, he charged after the miscreants and reached the cloister garth in time to see two shadowy figures vanishing swiftly in the direction of the abbey church.
Elaf was now panic-stricken.
‘We’re trapped!’ he said as they entered the church.
‘Not if we can find a hiding place.’
‘I can’t see a thing!’
‘Keep quiet!’ ordered Kenelm. ‘Hold on to me!’
Desperate to elude Brother Paul, he felt his way along the nave and tried to work out where they could best take refuge.
Their master was thorough. Aided by his candle, he would search every nook and cranny until he found them. The repercussions were unthinkable. Elaf was now sobbing in despair and Kenelm shook him to instil some courage.
‘I know where we can go!’ he announced.
‘Where?’
‘The one place he’ll never think of looking.’
Still holding Elaf, he headed towards the bell tower and groped around until his fingers met the steps of the ladder. He made his friend go up first then scrambled after him. The west door clanged open as their pursuer arrived in a tiny pool of light. Elaf hurried through the trap door, Kenelm after him. Clutching each other tightly, they hardly dared to breathe as they crouched on the wooden platform beside the huge iron bell. They ignored the stench of their refuge. Footsteps moved about below them. The candle flickered in all parts of the church as a systematic search was carried out. When the footsteps approached the base of the ladder, Elaf finally lost his nerve and jerked backwards. Something blocked his way and he fell across the obstruction, letting out an involuntary cry of alarm. It turned to a yell of sheer terror when he realised that he was lying across the stiff, stinking body of a man.
Kenelm was as horrified as his friend. As the two of them tried to scramble out of their hiding place, they collided violently with the bell and sent its sonorous voice booming throughout the abbey to tell everyone the grim news.
The missing Brother Nicholas had at last been found.
Chapter One
Ralph Delchard reined in his horse and held up an imperious hand to bring the cavalcade to a halt. Shading his eyes against the afternoon sun, he gazed into the distance. A rueful smile surfaced.
‘There it is,’ he said, pointing an accusing finger. ‘Gloucester.
That’s where this whole sorry business started. That’s where the King, in his wisdom or folly, had his deep speech with his Council and announced the Great Survey which has been the bane of my life for so long. Consider this: if the Conqueror had not spent Christmas at Gloucester, I might not have been forced to wear the skin off my arse riding from one end of the kingdom to the other.’
‘Do not take it so personally,’ said Gervase Bret, mounted beside him. ‘The King did not order the creation of this Domesday Book simply to irritate Ralph Delchard.’
‘I am more than irritated, Gervase.’
‘You’ve made that clear.’
‘I am appalled. Disgusted. Enraged.’
‘Think of our predecessors. They did most of the work. The first commissioners to visit this fair county toiled long and hard without complaint. All that we have to deal with are the irregularities they uncovered. In this case, they are few in number.’
‘How many times have I heard you say that?’
‘Our task should be completed in less than a week.’
‘That, too, has a familiar ring.’
‘I have studied the documents, Ralph. Only one major dispute confronts us. It will not tax us overmuch.’
‘What about the things that do not appear in the documents?’
‘Do not appear?’
‘Yes,’ said Ralph wearily. ‘Contingencies. Unforeseen hazards.