Pilgrims

by Matthew Kneale

  That evening your creature scrubbed and scrubbed at her dress, which had become quite dirtied during her bad days, till it was whiter than it had been for a good while, and the rest of them were amazed when they saw her walk down in it to the dining hall. And what gladness your creature felt when she put it on the next morning, hobbled down the stairs and took her place beside the driver, Jack, in Dame Lucy’s cart and watched the fields creep by. The colours seemed not grey any more but bright again, the sun still had a little warmth to it – more than it would have in Lynn in this season – and your creature felt You in it, healing her. Dame Lucy gave her some bread and apples and cheese, which were all in the cart behind her, so your creature had only to lean back and she could take more when she felt like it, till she had a fuller stomach than she had had for many a day. She had a fuller scrip, too, thanks to lovesome Dame Lucy, who gave her fourpence and then asked any who had a penny to spare to give it as well, which got her a shilling and thruppence altogether. I could ride like this forever, your creature thought. There’s nothing I need, not food, not drink, not even a word of chatter.

  We were in chalk country and the road was pale under our feet, stretching out ahead of us as straight as an arrow’s flight, rising and falling over the land like a ship on the swell; there was forest to either side so it wasn’t an exciting stretch of way, with little to console the eye. The miles passed quite slowly and after a time your creature thought it was only right to show herself friendly and to learn about her fellow pilgrims, and so she began a little chatter with the cart driver, Jack. He wasn’t the easiest fellow to gabble with and most of his answers were a ‘nope’, or a ‘I s’pose’, or a ‘I couldn’t say’, but your creature kept up with her merry asking till he couldn’t help but speak. What a surprise that was, though. Your creature had supposed that, like she herself, these pilgrims were all journeying to Rome only to show You honour, but no. This was only so of the little doll Beatrix, who sought to warn your father’s servants there that the end of days were coming. Which your creature found hard to believe, because if that were true then you’d have warned her, wouldn’t You, my good, sweet Lord? A few wanted to fetch their dear ones out of purgatory, including one idiot boy who was going for his popelot of a cat of all things, but most were journeying to try and get your forgiveness for their sins, which needed forgiving all right, as the truth was their souls were black as soot.

  Aside from the manor lord, John of Baydon, who’d punched an abbot, most of them were fornicators. The kindly widow Constance had cast her boy into sickness by whoring with her own cousin and, seeing how blessed your creature was, she had her pray for them both. The advocate Jocelyn had killed his wife with his lust, which one would think would be enough for any man, but no, even then he’d not learned wisdom. Your creature had noticed how he kept himself apart from the rest and looked most sad. Oswald, who went as a pilgrim for folk for silver and the cat boy in rags Tom were much the same, though they kept far from Jocelyn. ‘Those three all shamed themselves,’ Jack said with a laugh. So your creature was scandalled to learn that, even though they were on a holy journey to please God and You, a couple of days back these three had spent the night at a convent where they’d been caught with their gear round their knees, swiving away at three poor sisters. Dame Lucy had been wild at them, Jack said. Not long before she’d bought the cat boy new clothes to tidy him up, but after what he’d done she’d taken them from him, so he was back in his old rags, which were so bad they looked hardly clothes at all, your creature saw. And she’d barred Father Tim from teaching him his letters, which was another kindness he’d been given.

  That all spoke well of Dame Lucy, so your creature thought, but then it turned out she was hardly more righteous herself. Jack, being her cook, was loath to speak about his mistress but after your creature gently wrung him he told her that his mistress was going to Rome to get a divorce, and this not from her first husband but her second. Then, when your creature wondered why her boy Peter wasn’t back with his father like you’d expect, being her only son and so his charge, Jack said Peter hadn’t been born of either husband but by another man. Which made the poor lad a bastard and his mother a sinner to her very bones. As for young Lionel, who your creature had supposed was her husband, he was her latest wooer, whom she wanted to marry once she’d divorced her last. But why, dear Dame Lucy? your creature thought. Now that you’ve finally found peace and cleanness, why throw it all away and let him foul you every night and fill your home with bleating, pewking little bairns?

  Never mind, your creature told herself. It’s not for you to judge others, as that’s God’s work. Just be glad of the joys you now have. And there were so many joys. As well as the company and the cart and the cheese and apples, your creature found that she could confess once again. Her last true shriving had been weeks ago back in Dover, and though she’d tried churches she found along the way, that hadn’t seemed properly righteous, seeing as the priests hadn’t understood a word she said nor she a word of theirs. She called Father Tim over and as he rode beside the cart she made a longer confession than she had in many a month. She told him how she’d been guilty of anger towards Ostrid for leaving her, at the Yorkshires for taking her, at the Frisians for giving her the lice and fleas that had been so hard to be rid of, and then at the monks at the hospital in Chalons who’d been so crabbed. After that she repented her anger at the delver with the little eyes, Hugh, for saying she should stay behind at the hospital, and for his unkindly mean jokes at her, which she said loud enough for him to hear, for his own good so he might know to be godlier. Father Tim absolved and blessed your creature. But what amazement was on his face when, scarcely half an hour later, she called him back and told him, ‘Father, I want to confess.’ ‘But you just did,’ he said. So your creature smiled and explained that it was her custom to shrive her sins at least three times each day and she began once again, and though Father Tim said she’d already confessed all of these unrights to him, she answered that it was godlier if she did it more than once, as You yourself had told her, which he had no answer for.

  The next morning it was hard to confess, what with the weather. The sky was dark and the very moment we stepped out of the hospital where we’d stayed the night the rain started, being the kind that falls so heavy that it gets through every stitch of your attire, chilling you to your blood. We were on the same straight, chalky road that we’d been following the day before and the wet made it slippery, so the riders kept having to dismount and lead their horses, and twice your creature feared the cart might slide into the ditch. Then the rich delver Margaret stepped in a hole and hurt her foot, which was her own fault for not looking where she was going, so she rode on the cart too, squeezing your creature to the middle, so she had to make her change places as otherwise she couldn’t call Father Tim over and do her shriving. Though he kept making scuses so your creature had to ask him four times before he finally let her start, and then it was all spoiled by the stranger.

  Your creature was opening her sorry heart, telling Father Tim how, as a young girl growing up in Lynn, she’d been proud and vain, and as she talked she couldn’t help but notice that there was a little fellow ahead of us on the road. He was slower than our party so it was like he was on our fish line and we were slowly pulling him in. What made your creature smile was that, even when he was only a few stone’s throws ahead of us, he still hadn’t noticed that we were just behind him. We were making a fair din, what with the horses’ hooves and the cart, but the rain falling on the trees and the claps of thunder must’ve been louder again. Nor was it only your creature who’d seen him, as the others in the party smirked and smiled at each other as the fellow’s back strayed ever closer, till one of us might soon be able to reach out and give him a prod. Trust that useless fellow Hugh to spoil it. When the man was just a dozen or so paces away he called out, ‘And a good morning to you, cousin.’

  That was strange, though. The man turned round, much startled to see the great fell
owship just behind him, so we all burst into laughter, and your creature saw he had a thick black beard that covered his face almost up to his eyes, so it looked like he was wearing a woolly helmet. But instead of joining our laughter or giving us a hello back or some foreign greeting of his own, like you’d expect, he looked quite riled. Then he hurried away just as fast as he could, more running than walking, and though some of the party called out to him, ‘What’s your hurry, cousin?’ he paid them no heed and kept going till he was far away.

  But he spoiled your creature’s shriving even then. Though it took a good while she finally got Father Tim back so she could finish her confession, and she was telling him how when she was young she’d been guilty of anger when her brother dropped a beetle down her dress and she scelped him on the head with a stick so his ear bled, when Alwyn called out to Dame Lucy, ‘We could stop there if you want, ma’am?’ and he pointed to a grassy clearing beneath the trees up ahead beside the road. That would be for lunch, and though it would be a wet sort of stop, still your creature was glad, as by now she was ready for a little more of Dame Lucy’s bread and cheese and apples, and perhaps a swig or two of ale to wash it all down. But then everyone was shouting in surprise as right then up from that same grassy spot sprang the little bearded stranger, like a startled hare. He must have been sitting there hidden by the trees. Off he went just as fast as he could go, and though the rest all called out to him to stop and Sir John said he must come back and be punished as he’d insulted our ladies, he was soon gone from sight again.

  In the end your poor creature never was absolved from her childhood sins, as after that everyone was gabbling about the stranger, wondering who he could be and why he’d spurned us, and saying how he merited a good scolding, if not more, for his rudeness. The rest of them all hoped we’d catch up with him wherever we stayed that night, though your creature hoped we wouldn’t as he’d looked like a ravager to her. ‘Didn’t you see his lustful eyes?’ she told the others. ‘I’ll be glad if we never see a hair of him ever again.’ Happily, when we reached our halting place that evening, which was a village with a small inn, there was no sign of him. I’ll have a peaceful night here, your creature thought to herself, but how mistaken she was.

  The inn being so small, there were beds enough only for Dame Lucy and her company and all the others of us had to make do with straw in the barn, and though your creature did wonder if Dame Lucy might find a bed for her, too, seeing as she’d ridden in her cart, which made her one of her party in a way, as your creature saw it, she didn’t and so your creature was humbly on straw with the rest. She chose her corner and then she went down to the stream to give her white dress a scrub, as there was nothing she loved better than to keep it clean and pure, and when that was done she went back to the inn to look for Father Tim, so she might do her second confession of the day, if it even was that, seeing as she’d never finished nor been absolved for the first.

  Your creature knew something was amiss when she saw Mary and Helena coming towards her on their way to the stream. They had no clothes with them to wash and it seemed a strange moment for a walk, as it was raining again and supper would soon be ready. So your creature asked them, ‘Where are you two going?’ but Mary, who your creature could see from her red eyes had been crying, answered only with a sob. Helena, who seemed a little cheerier, said, not to your creature but to her mother, ‘You had to,’ which made Mary sob all the louder. Being curious, as any loving soul would be, your creature asked what was wrong but Mary just cast a glance back towards the inn. ‘Go and ask them. They’ll tell you what a wicked fool I am.’

  Your creature did as she’d been bidden. The others were in the little hall, which had a hush to it, as everyone seemed anguished, aside from the three Sir Johns who looked only angry. By then your creature had guessed what had happened, as she’d seen how Gawayne had been wooing Helena every hour that he was able, and sure enough when your creature asked Constance, she answered, ‘It’s a sorry thing, Matilda. Gawayne and his father asked Mary for Helena’s hand and Mary told them no. She gave no reason. Then she and Helena just fled out from the inn.’ The one who seemed most upset was Dame Lucy, which was strange, your creature thought, seeing as she was journeying to Rome to be divorced and so should know as well as anyone that living as a wife was no paradise.

  ‘There must be something we can do to change their minds,’ she said, though Sir John, being pricked by the affront done to him, told her she shouldn’t trouble herself. ‘My offer is taken back,’ he said. ‘If a butcher’s daughter feels herself too good for my son then she is not welcome in my family.’ By then the innkeeper was bringing in bread and a big pot of stew and as it didn’t seem right that Mary and Helena should miss their dinner your creature went out to fetch them, and though Mary said she couldn’t bear to go back, your creature told her, ‘You’ve done nothing wrong. Why shouldn’t Helena keep herself clean and pure, if not for herself then for God, as it’s well known that virgins are the ones he holds dearest of all?’ Then Helena said she was too hungry to miss supper and so back they went, though they’d hardly sat down when Dame Lucy hurried over and tried to talk them round. ‘This is a fine proposal,’ she said, never caring that Sir John had just said it was nulled. ‘I beg you, Helena, think again. Do you want to spend all your days in a nunnery?’

  What a thing to say, your creature thought. Now You came to her in her mind’s eye, saying, ‘Leave it be, my sweet. Don’t gainsay Dame Lucy who’s been so kindly to you. She’s been wed twice and hungers for it again so she won’t take kindly if you start casting marriage down.’ But how can I do otherwise? your creature thought. As your very own virgin of godliness I must speak the truth. For that matter as her loving friend it’s my duty to help Dame Lucy, as she needs warning off from Lionel. And so your creature did just that. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a life spent in a priory,’ she said, and though You murmured to her, ‘That’s enough now, say no more,’ it needed saying forthrightly, so your creature added, ‘The early saints told us clear as day is day that there’s no state of womanhood dearer to God than virginity, and if marriage is honourable in its way, it’s an unholy, noisome, dirty business, and though it may seem sweet at first, too often it turns sour.’

  It was wise advice well meant but Dame Lucy had no ears to hear, sorry to say, and she gave your creature a look like daggers. ‘We weren’t asking for your wisdom, Matilda,’ she said, and Lionel gave her a scowl too. There’s my reward for telling what’s righteously true, your poor dear creature thought sorrowfully. Though she didn’t know the full truth of it till the next morning. Your creature would never have imagined Dame Lucy might be meanly or spiteful, but when your creature was about to take her place in the front of the cart like usual, she called out to her, ‘Your foot seems much better now, Matilda. Peter and Paul will ride in the cart today,’ and inside half a moment the two of them had darted past your creature and jumped up next to Jack. And though your creature hobbled a little, not so much from pain but from the wrongness done to her, Dame Lucy pretenced not to see. Nor was that all. A mile or so down the road your creature happened to be walking beside the cart and, feeling suddenly a little famished, she reached towards the sack to take an apple but she’d hardly got her hand inside when Dame Lucy called out to her, ‘I’d rather you didn’t, Matilda, or there’ll be none for the rest of us.’ Which wasn’t right as there were plenty left. Finally, when your creature thought to make her first confession of the day to Father Tim, which was a righteous and holy thing after all, and pleasing to You, Dame Lucy said she couldn’t as Father Tim was very busy, and she said that from now onwards your poor creature could only shrive to him once a week on Sundays like everyone else.

  Rise above it, my poor dear angel, You told her. Leave it be. And so I will, your creature vowed. What a mood there was in the party now, though, which was cleaved in two. Sir John and his brood were at the front, where he thumped his boots like the very road itself had done insult to him, while Mar
y and Helena hid themselves away right at the back. All the rest were in between, though where they kept themselves gave away their fealties. Poor Mary and Helena didn’t have many friends it turned out. Your creature kept with them and so did Constance, at least some of the time, and Oswald would hang back to talk to them on occasion. So did the boy Tom, who seemed cheered that Gawayne had been spurned, which was no surprise, as your creature had seen him blinking and looking awkward whenever Helena was near. As if he’d have any hope with her, who was a beauty and rich while he was a penniless bound delver? Another who seemed pleased was the foolish little maid who thought she was God’s mouthpiece, Beatrix. Which was for the same reason in opposite, as your creature had seen her on her ass, casting sly glances at Gawayne when he wasn’t looking, though she had no more chance than Tom with Helena, the idiot child. As for the Sir Johns at the head of our party, they had quite a crowd walking with them. As well as Beatrix there was Margaret, Jocelyn and all of the Dame Lucys, as well as Joan, while her seemly sister Constance would walk with them sometimes. The only one who showed no fealty at all was Beatrix’s father, Warin, who kept to himself in the middle of the group, looking sour like he had no wish to join either party.

  How drear this is, your creature thought. The road was drear, as we were still on the same straight, chalk-white way with walls of trees to either side that we’d been on for three days now. And our fellowship was grown drear, too, everyone plodding or riding along and hardly saying a word. Your poor dear creature couldn’t even confess her sins, being banned. So she tried to bring a little life to the party by telling the others about her own fights with Satan, and how she’d battled to do your bidding by bringing righteousness to Lynn. But sorry to say, none of them paid her much heed, while some were nothing less than uncourteous. Your creature wasn’t surprised that Hugh the delver was rude, nor Warin and Beatrix, nor Joan, nor even Sir John, as none of them had been loving from the moment she joined this fellowship, but she was sad when Lionel told her, and most rudely too, couldn’t she lower her voice as he was trying to talk to Dame Lucy. And though your creature hoped Dame Lucy would tell him off and call out, no, no, dear Matilda, finish your tale I beg you, she didn’t say a word but just sat on her horse looking straight ahead.