I leaped a wall and turned to see if my pursuer followed. What resulted could not properly be called a leap, but he did get over the wall, dropping in a heap at its base and cursing loudly. Nettles again, no doubt.
The sight of my pursuer toppling over the wall caused me to seek other obstacles. I was careful to stay but a dozen or so paces in front of the fellow, whose breath soon came in such noisy gasps that I thought him closer behind than he was.
We went over two more walls before he balked at the fourth heap of stones, cursed me for a knave, and shook his dagger at me. Arthur had by this time probably completed his tasks at the manor, but I could see no reason not to extend the chase, to be sure of Arthur’s success.
From across the fourth wall I grimaced at my wheezing pursuer and shouted imprecations at him. I loudly questioned his birth and parentage, and suggested that he possessed little appeal to the fair sex.
The man was so incensed that his lips drew back from his teeth like an alaunt after a stag. He charged the wall and went over it head first, so wrathful had he become.
I took to my heels, pleased that the guard had been foolish enough to continue the chase. I had run another fifty paces or so when I turned to see why I did not hear the fellow panting and stumbling behind.
He lay in a heap at the base of the wall, unmoving. My curiosity got the better of me and I did then what might have been a foolish thing. Perhaps my training as a surgeon was to blame — leading me to aid even an enemy in distress.
I retraced my steps cautiously, a hand upon my dagger, until I stood over the supine guard. The field had been sown to oats, and I saw his dagger in the stubble four or five paces from where he lay.
He was not dead. His chest rose and fell rapidly. But he was unconscious and the reason was clear. A stone had fallen from the wall, and when, in his rage, the fellow dived over the wall he landed head first upon this rock. A red stain had appeared, soaking through his cap.
I put a finger aside his throat and felt his heart beat, strong and rapid. I drew the cap from his head to inspect his wound. ’Twas a deep gouge, and bled much, but he would not go to his grave from it. I felt the skull about the laceration and found it whole. When the fellow awoke he would have a frightful headache, but he would awaken in this world rather than the next. I had not drawn the man to his death, and for this I was relieved. He did but his lord’s bidding.
There was now little need to circle around the town, but I did so anyway, in case the village priest concluded the mass early and folk might be about the streets.
Arthur had returned to our meeting place before me, and he was not alone. Sybil Montagu was with him. He saw the look of dismay upon my face, rolled his eyes, and said, “She followed me. Wouldn’t seek the priest. What was I to do?”
I thought of a suggestion, but bit my tongue.
“My father sent a man for me,” Sybil said. “I heard him tell Sir Philip’s men what would befall them if I was not released. We must find him.”
I sighed. “’Twas me who spoke. No man has come from your father.”
“Then you must take me home. Had you done so before, Sir Philip would not have seized me again.”
“How did he do so?”
“Don’t know. A lay brother set a meal before me at the guest-hall refectory. While I ate I heard voices in low conversation in another chamber, and a man spoke my name. After I ate I went to the cell I was assigned. I felt in need of a nap. When I awoke I was in the hencoop again. But now I know who it is has seized me, and this time he does not ask ransom of my father. I heard the guards speak of Sir Philip selling me as servant to Italian wool-buyers, so to keep my father from learning who took me.”
Arthur and I exchanged glances. She had been dosed with some herb, likely mixed with ale, which put her to sleep. There are many plants which will cause slumber. Pounded lettuce seed is a favorite of mine when a patient is in need of sleep. But lettuce will not send a person into such deep repose that carrying them from Abingdon to East Hanney would not awaken them. Something stronger was used to so stupefy Sybil Montagu that she did not know she was being transported. I could not believe the hosteler was in league with Sir Philip Rede, but perhaps a lay brother was.
“You will take me now to my father!”
Sybil did not say this as a question. It was a command.
“I would like very much to throw you upon your father’s care, but I cannot.”
The lass spluttered in anger, but I ignored her. “The stables,” I said to Arthur. “Did you inspect the horses there?”
“Aye. ’Twas as Osbert said. All are well shod.”
“Speaking of horses,” I said, “we should mount and be off. Mass will be done soon, if ’tis not already, and Sir Philip will find his captive gone again.”
“’Less you send ’er back.”
The thought was tempting.
We returned that day to Bampton, arriving after dark. Arthur took the beasts to the marshalsea and I sent Sybil through the door of Galen House before me. In the light of a candle I saw Kate’s surprise at this visitor, and understood that my explanation for her presence had best be good.
I had told Kate of Sybil Montagu, and her character, so my spouse was not much surprised when Sybil stamped her foot in anger when I told her she would share a pallet that night with Alice atte Bridge.
“I demand a bed. My father is a gentleman. I’ll not sleep upon the floor with a scullery maid!”
Arthur had made the mistake, while we traveled home to Bampton, of speaking of Alice atte Bridge and her duties at the castle. Sybil rode the palfrey behind him, and heard.
“I have no other bed,” I replied, “nor have I another pallet. You may sleep upon the floor, or sit, with your back against the wall. I care not.”
“Set that fellow upon the floor,” Sybil demanded, pointing to Osbert. “He’s one who kept me confined.”
“He is injured, and will remain as he is.”
“My father will hear of this.”
“Soon, I hope. There is much your father needs to hear. Tomorrow, early, I will take you to the castle. Lord Gilbert Talbot will make a place for you until your father can be summoned.”
I might have taken Sybil to the castle this night, roused Wilfred the porter, and turned the lass over to John Chamberlain. He would have found an unoccupied chamber for her. But her behavior was so repulsive that I decided I would trouble no man to meet her wishes.
Sybil fumed, but when she saw ’twas to no avail, she thumped down upon the pallet beside Alice.
“I am sorry,” I apologized to Alice, “for this imposition. Sybil will trouble you for but one night.”
That I begged pardon of Alice rather than her for the sleeping accommodations infuriated Sybil even more. Her eyes flashed anger but I cared little for her rage.
Kate, Alice, and Osbert had already eaten supper, and there was little remaining, so I made a meal of maslin loaf and cheese. I offered some to Sybil, but she snarled a rejection and turned her face to the wall. Alice peered at me with raised eyebrows, left the pallet, and spread her cloak upon the reeds across the room from Sybil. She would rather sleep upon the floor herself than share a straw pallet with such a shrewish companion. Someday, possibly, Sybil Montagu will wed. I wonder how many nights her husband will sleep upon the floor?
While I chewed upon the maslin loaf I spoke to Osbert, who had already consumed his evening cup of ale laced with ground lettuce seeds. Kate must have provided a strong dose, for ’twas all I could do to keep the man awake and lucid.
I described the men who had entered Galen House, threatened Kate and Bessie, and made off with the coins and jewelry I had found in John Thrale’s house. The two, Osbert answered, might be mistaken for Sir Philip Rede and Piers, his younger brother, who was not tall, and was given to indulging his appetite. But this could not be so, for no horse with a broken shoe was found on their manor. I asked if other men matching the description could be found in East Hanney.