Simon felt his face fix into a mask. ‘You wish me to go there and live?’
‘Of course. I need someone I can trust. There is a good little house, I believe, and the duties wouldn’t be excessively onerous, but well remunerated. Would you take it on for me?’
In his mind’s eye, Simon could see his wife’s face, Meg’s sadness at having to move home again. He could see his daughter’s dismay at the news, having to leave all the boys with whom she had flirted. When he believed that the Abbot was disappointed in him, he had thought that the worst thing that could happen to him was that he and his family might have to quit their house and go back to Sandford, leaving their new friends behind. Now, ironically, due to his success, he was to be asked to move – but to yet another place where he knew no one! Meg would be upset, he knew. Edith too.
‘I am most grateful, my Lord Abbot,’ he said in a choked voice. ‘I should be delighted to do that job for you.’
He had no choice.
Over in the quiet morning light of the Abbey sickroom, Gerard the acolyte lay huddled in his bed, his eyes on Christ on the cross hanging above the altar. Brother Peter sat beside him, a goblet of wine for the wounded boy and a cloth in his hands.
‘What will happen to me now?’ croaked the boy, slow tears sliding from his eyes.
‘Ah! Well, I think you will be asked to confess to our good Lord Abbot, and then you will be given a penance of several Hail Marys and the duty of serving my needs. An Almoner always needs a good helper.’
‘What of my crimes, though?’
‘You were forced into a life of theft – Augerus forced you. He will be made to understand the meaning of penance.’
‘And I made you help me leave the convent, just as I forced myself on Reginald’s parents.’
Peter shifted uncomfortably. ‘Aye, well, let us not dwell too deeply on that. I haven’t had a moment to confess to that particular offence yet. I’ll do so, though, aye, I’ll do it. I’m just not looking forward to the Abbot’s face when I tell him.’
‘It was good of you – but why did you agree to help me get out? It was a crime,’ said the broken voice.
‘Aye. I know,’ Peter said, thinking again of his Agnes. ‘But if you weren’t suited to the Abbey, do you see that you might be failing God? What if He truly intended you to be – oh, I don’t know – a stonemason, whose skills would show God’s glory to a congregation? Perhaps it would be better, if you mean to have a different life, to go and live it, rather than remaining here.’
‘I don’t think I can live here, not after all I’ve done.’
‘What you mean is, not knowing you’d have to face Augerus every day.’
‘Well, I suppose…’
‘Well, suppose again, lad. He’ll be long gone before you’re out of this room. He’s in a cell now, and he’ll not be allowed out, other than during services, until his boat’s ready.’
‘What boat?’
‘The Abbot has decided he will go to the islands. He’ll be going to the Abbey’s house at the Island of St Nicholas.’
‘Good God!’ Gerard began to sniffle, and Peter caught his hand and held it. ‘Do you think I will be sent there too?’
‘Nay, lad. You have done little wrong. Augerus has murdered two men, and forced you to become his slave-thief. He will suffer for his crimes. What have you done? You have been immature and young – but that is because you are immature. You will be all right.’
Gerard heard his voice, but the words were washing over him like shallow waves. He could discern little meaning. All he knew was, that the sympathy of this older monk showed that the wounds he had suffered were as truly appalling as he feared. He wanted to touch his face, where the dull throbbing at his nose and ear showed Joce had succeeded in wrecking him, or to scratch at the irritating itch at his cheek and shoulder. He had been a fool, and the memory of his foolishness would be with him every day of his life.
With a sob, he realised he wished that he had in fact died.
The next day, Nob threw open the shutters with a curious feeling of well-being. The sun was streaming down, for once, and with the slight breeze a few leaves blew along the alley outside. It was rare to wake to a clear sky and dry roadway, but today was one such, and Nob whistled cheerily, if tunelessly, as he collected flour from the miller’s and some more charcoal, carrying both on his old barrow.
Cissy was already in the shop and lighting a brazier on which to heat a couple of pies for their breakfast, he thought, but then he saw that she had several pies set out beside her.
‘Why so many?’
‘I’m taking some food to Sara. Her children need all the help they can get,’ Cissy said firmly. ‘I won’t have any arguments, Nob. She is eating for two again, remember.’
‘Who’s complaining? I’m not saying anything. I was just thinking, though. If she needs some ale, tell her my barrel’s always got a spare quart for her.’
Cissy watched him set about cleaning out the ovens, arranging the tinder and some twigs, then striking a spark to ignite them. ‘You’re a good man, Nob,’ she said contentedly.
‘Aye, an’ you’re a good woman. Come here, lass, give us a kiss.’
She dutifully gave him a peck on the cheek.
‘Nay, come on, make it a real one.’
‘I don’t have time.’
‘Course you do. An’ if you play your cards right, you can have me body as well.’
She clipped him round the ear. ‘Later, maybe.’
‘Ah, might be too late by then. You don’t know what you’re missing!’ he called as she left the shop.
She was a great woman, he reckoned. Sara would get all the support she needed from Cissy, and so would Emma. Poor woman was almost distraught about her husband, but she’d knuckle down soon enough. She had to, with all her kids. And although she had a few bob now, that wouldn’t last for ever. Nob shrugged. Someone else who’d have to come and get free pies. He wouldn’t let anyone’s children suffer.
He wondered about Sara’s claim on Joce. At least he might be able to help there… Even if the wedding wasn’t official, hadn’t been held at the church door, Sara still had a claim. Nob could bear witness to that. Joce had no family, did he?
It was a little later, into the forenoon, that a clerk appeared in the doorway.
‘Quick, a beef pie! I am due in the Abbot’s court.’
‘Master, I have one almost ready for you,’ said Nob calmly. ‘And I might be able to let you have it for a discount.’
‘Discount?’ The clerk’s eyes sharpened. ‘That sounds expensive.’
‘It could prove a nice little earner for a good master-at-law,’ Nob said dreamily. ‘Helping a wealthy widow. A young, attractive, blonde, wealthy widow.’
The clerk leaned upon the counter. ‘Tell me more…’ he invited.