I left the priests standing before the vicarage and sought Galen House. Kate’s face appeared in my mind, and you will understand why I was loath to travel to Exeter. At best the journey would take five days, and five more to return. I had not been out of Kate’s presence since the day we wed. The vicars of St Beornwald’s Church now required of me a fortnight away from my bride.
Kate was displeased by the vicars’ decision, and spoke of accompanying me. I rejected the suggestion. I admit that the thought of leaving with her beside me, instead of leaving her behind, was a tempting one. But she was with child, and should rest at home.
“Of all those in Bampton who disliked Thomas atte Bridge, you believe John Kellet most likely his murderer?” she asked.
“Aye. He had cause and opportunity, and the deed fits his character.”
“Did not others have greater cause? Peter Carpenter, surely?”
“Men may have great cause to do violence to another, but not act on it because they have not the stomach for it, or because they will not do wrong to right a wrong.”
“And this Kellet would act?”
“Aye. He has done so, many times. I had lumps upon my head to prove it so.”
“You spoke of two men, one at atte Bridge’s head and the other at his feet, dropping his burden to the mud.”
“Kellet did not do this alone. But who might have aided him? Atte Bridge had so many enemies I know not where to begin to sort through them all.”
“The man would have been a friend to John Kellet before he was sent on pilgrimage, would he not? It seems unlikely,” Kate mused, “that Kellet would return to Bampton and seek aid to do murder from one he did not know well.”
I could not dispute her logic. To seek an accomplice among John Kellet’s friends might narrow the list of conspirators. But how could I discover guilt without some proof to lay at such a man’s feet, so that he might speak to charge the priest and turn justice from himself? Unwilling as I was to leave Kate for a fortnight, I was beginning to see the use of such a journey and found myself arguing Father Thomas’s position to Kate. After much persuasion, she reluctantly agreed.
“When will you depart?”
“Tuesday. I will make ready tomorrow.”
“You will not go upon the roads alone, will you?”
“Nay. I will have Arthur and Uctred accompany me.”
I saw relief wash across my bride’s face. Since the Great Death men who seek employment are able to find it, so there are fewer brigands accosting folk upon the roads than in past days. But there are always some who would rather take what is another’s than earn their own keep. Arthur and Uctred are large fellows, not tall, but well fed at Lord Gilbert’s table, and seeing them garbed in Lord Gilbert’s blue-and-black livery with his design across their chests, most felons would choose to allow them, and me, to pass unmolested.
Monday morning I sought Arthur and Uctred and told them to make ready to leave next day with the Angelus Bell. Uctred is a bachelor and Arthur a married man. I expected Uctred to be eager for the journey and the novelty of new lands to see, and thought Arthur would be unhappy to leave Bampton. I was mistaken. Uctred greeted the announcement with gloom, whereas Arthur seemed pleased to be away. Perhaps wedded bliss had faded for Arthur.
I left instruction with the marshalsea to have Bruce and two palfreys ready to travel with the dawn. Bruce is an old dexter and carried Lord Gilbert at Poitiers. His use was provided me as incentive when Lord Gilbert prevailed upon me to accept the post of bailiff at his Manor of Bampton. I hoped the elderly beast was hale enough to travel to Devonshire and return.
Chapter 7
Early next morn I threw a bag of my surgical instruments across Bruce’s rump, and a moment later Arthur, Uctred, and I urged our mounts under the Bampton Castle portcullis. I planned no surgery in the next fortnight, but I have been so often surprised by the injuries men may do to themselves and each other that I dislike being without the tools to repair their hurts. Kate was determined to see us off, so came with me to the castle while the eastern sky was just beginning to grow light above St Andrew’s Chapel. I turned in my saddle when we three gained Mill Street and was rewarded with a kiss blown from Kate’s fair lips. I was determined to see my business in Exeter complete and be on my way home so soon as could be.
From Bampton to Swindon is nineteen miles. We traveled the distance easily, for the horses were rested, and sought an inn for the night. The second day we traveled longer, near thirty miles, to Trowbridge, where we found another vermin-infested inn. I wished to be in Glastonbury after three days, and near the seventh hour of the third day we saw the tor rise above the plain.
I have heard many tales of the great abbey at Glastonbury: of the graves of Arthur and Guinevere, his queen; of the thorn tree planted by Joseph of Arimathea; and of the magnificent view from the top of the tor. After three days’ travel our elderly beasts were tired and lagging. I decided we would rest the horses for a day and see the great abbey and its treasures.
The gatehouse of Glastonbury Abbey is new and impressive, built but a few years past. The porter greeted us there, and sent a lay brother to fetch the hosteller when I made known our need of shelter for two nights and provision for the horses.
We were not alone in such a request. Pilgrims swarmed through the gatehouse while we awaited the hosteller, for we had arrived on Ascension Day. All these folk could not be accommodated within the abbey precincts, or if they were, there would be no place for three more travelers.
The porter’s assistant returned shortly, pushing through the throng of pilgrims. A slender monk followed in his wake. I saw the monk squint over the crowd at our horses, then peer past the swirling swarm at the gatehouse to see who it was required his aid. His eyes drifted past me without focusing. Here, I thought, is a scholar whose long hours of study, bent over his books, have rendered him blind to anything much past his fingertips.
The monk stood close before the porter, who took his arm and turned him to face me. At that close vantage I saw clearly the monk’s affliction. The pupils of his eyes were milky and clouded. He suffered from cataracts.
“Brother Alnett,” the porter said, “here are three fellows bound for St Nicholas’s Priory in Exeter who need place to rest themselves and their beasts.”
“I am Hugh de Singleton,” I added, “bailiff to Lord Gilbert Talbot on his lands in Bampton. I travel to Exeter to examine a man about a death in Bampton. Arthur and Uctred accompany me.”
Brother Alnett seemed to look away, but addressed me, as if by inspecting the gatehouse beyond my shoulder he could see me the better.
“We have many pilgrims here, and cannot house them all, but travelers are welcome. I will send for a lay brother to care for your beasts. Meanwhile, follow me and I will see you to the guest hall.”
The monk led us past the abbot’s hall and a great kitchen, where a chimney belched the smoke and fragrance of roasting flesh. Glastonbury is a Benedictine House, but I suppose the abbot had guests who required meat for their supper. Beyond the kitchen was a garden to the south and the abbot’s hall to the north. On the eastern side of the garden lay a long structure, two stories tall, of dressed stone and newly built. The monk led us to the entrance of this hall.
Once we were inside the darkened corridors of the building Brother Alnett led us to our chamber as surely as if he could see clearly. I remarked on this to the monk.
“Near thirty years since I was a novice. I learned my way about the place when I could yet see well,” he explained. “Now I see in my mind’s eye what was when I was young.” He hesitated briefly. “So I see what others see, just not in the same manner. But I do wish I might yet read. Those who can see and do not read are more blind than me, I think.”