I was so weak and sore from my own wound that I was not able to help myself or Osbert. I instructed the priest to bathe Osbert’s lacerated back with wine, then coat the area with the juice of St. James’s Wort and wrap him in a blanket, and with Arthur’s help lay him upon the thickest pallet. Osbert cried out as the wine touched his wounds, but I urged Father Maurice to pay no heed and continue the work. When he was done Arthur offered bread to Osbert, but he would have none. Arthur did manage to raise Osbert so that he could take some ale into which Father Maurice had poured a good measure of pounded lettuce seeds. Osbert moaned when Arthur and the priest placed him face-down upon the pallet, and was then silent.
I asked Arthur’s aid in removing my cotehardie and kirtle, for my left shoulder was stiffened and to move my left arm caused much pain. I was no more hungry than Osbert, but knew I would heal best if I ate, so after Father Maurice had bathed my wounds with the remaining wine I ate some bread and a bit of the capon. Some of the pounded lettuce seed remained, so I asked the priest to pour it into a cup of ale and drank the mixture down.
Arthur helped me to wrap myself in another of the blankets and I lay, aching and exhausted, bleeding upon a pallet. My plan to escape All Saints’ Church depended upon a length of sturdy rope, and I had none.
While I lay wrapped in the blanket the clerk rang the evening Angelus Bell, and I was yet alert enough that the bell rope suddenly dangled in my clouded thoughts.
I called Arthur and Father Maurice to me and explained my plan. Someone must travel to Bampton and tell Lord Gilbert of my plight. If the priest or his clerk attempted to leave Marcham I feared Sir Philip might find them upon the way and stop them. I wished no more men to suffer on my behalf.
Arthur is not so tall as me, but weighs nearly fourteen stone. A rope which can support his bulk must be well made. No frail cord would do. I asked Father Maurice about his bell rope.
“Nearly new,” he replied. “Got it last year from a rope-maker in Oxford.”
“If it was loosed from the bell, and fastened from the top of the tower, would it bear Arthur, you think?”
The priest cast an apprehensive eye at Arthur, measuring his bulk. His frown gradually faded, a smile replacing it.
“Ah, I see. Aye, I believe it would.”
“Sir Philip will have men placed at the doors,” I said, “but ’tis near dark, and I think he will pay no attention to the tower.”
“You want me to escape by rope down the tower?” Arthur asked.
“Aye. Get to Bampton as quickly as you can. Tell Lord Gilbert where I am, and why, and ask if he will send Lady Petronilla’s wagon to take me and Osbert to Bampton. Sir Philip must be driven off, so a half-dozen or more grooms should accompany the wagon.”
“An’ what am I to tell Kate?”
“That I am wounded, but ’tis not grievous.”
I did not wish for Kate to suffer unnecessary worry, and, indeed, I did not believe my wound so perilous as when I first looked down and saw an arrowhead protruding from under my arm. I had coughed up no blood, so was convinced that the shaft had missed my lung.
There was yet part of a loaf remaining from the meal the clerk had brought. I told Arthur to eat it, so as to maintain his strength for the night’s journey. It was dark when he finished the loaf, licked his fingers and said, “I’m off, then.”
Father Maurice had lit a candle, and in its dim light I saw Arthur and the clerk disappear into the dark in the direction of the tower. As he set off I warned Arthur to be careful in untying the rope. It would not do to have the bell sound.
Much time passed before the clerk returned, so that I worried that some misfortune had befallen Arthur. But eventually the man appeared from the dark at the base of the tower and announced softly that Arthur had gone safely over the top of the tower, and the bell rope was now again fixed to the bell frame.
Father Maurice sent the clerk and his young companion to the vicarage, then informed me that he would spend the night in the church.
“If Sir Philip sees me leave, he’ll find some excuse to enter and carry you off. If I protest to the bishop he’ll claim you were seized trying to escape, and he’ll have put you to death, so you’ll not be able to dispute him. I know Sir Philip.”
Father Maurice wrapped himself in a blanket and settled upon the remaining pallet. He was soon snoring softly. Osbert also slept, although he occasionally shifted upon his pallet and moaned when he did so. The lettuce seed was more effective for Osbert than for me. I lay alert well into the night.
How had I come to such a plight? Perhaps if William of Garstang had not given his books to me, six years past, when he was near to death from plague, I would not be here, wounded, upon the floor of Marcham Church. One of William’s three books was Surgery, by Henri de Mondeville. I read it, and changed my vocation.
Had I not spent a year of study in Paris, I could not have stitched up the lacerated leg of Lord Gilbert Talbot when a horse kicked him upon Oxford High Street. Then I would not have been offered a post as Lord Gilbert’s bailiff at Bampton, and was I not given such authority in that place I would not have known of John Thrale’s death or his coin, and would not now lay pierced upon the cold flags of All Saints’ Church.
But it was my skill as a surgeon which led me to meet Kate Caxton and claim her for my bride. I might wish the flow of my life had followed some other course, so to avoid the sorrow which occasionally afflicts me, as with all men, but had it done so I would never have known the joy of life with Kate. I would not have bounced Bessie upon my knee and heard her squeal with delight.
Why should I wish my way had been altered so as to avoid this place and this moment? Some other sorrows would surely have come to me had I chosen to walk other paths, and the bliss I found with Kate, the pleasure of life among the folk of Bampton, the satisfaction of my work as surgeon and for Lord Gilbert, all this I would have lost.
I turned upon my pallet to seek a more comfortable position, adjusted the blanket, and finally fell to sleep, content with my lot. I did awaken often through the night, and when I did I breathed a prayer that the Lord Christ would take pity upon me and send me, whole and recovered, back to Kate’s arms. I resolved never again to question His direction for my life, or lament the sorrows which come my way, for then I must also repent of the delights He has allowed me.
When dawn gave enough light to see, Father Maurice opened the door to the porch. He glanced through the opening, then closed the door and walked my way.
“Four men,” he said. “Didn’t see Sir Philip among ’em. Probably sought his bed and left others to do his work. No doubt there are more watching the other doors.”
There had been no shouting or commotion the night before, when Arthur let himself down from the tower. I was sure he was safely away. Had he been discovered there would have been tumult. Arthur would not be easily taken, even by half a dozen men.
From Marcham to Bampton is nearly ten miles. Even if Arthur was cautious upon the road he would have roused Wilfred, the porter of Bampton Castle, by midnight. Would he seek Lord Gilbert straight away, or allow his lord to sleep the night in peace before he gave him my message? I had supplied no instruction on the matter.
I had convinced myself that Arthur had awaited the new day to seek Lord Gilbert when I heard hoof-beats in the distance. The priest heard also, and turned to me with concern in his eyes. He believed, I think, that Sir Philip had returned with reinforcements. When I saw the concern upon his face I felt also some anxiety, but this soon faded. Had Sir Philip wished to violate sanctuary, he had had enough men with him last night to do so, and carry me, Osbert, and Arthur off to East Hanney.