by S. D. Sykes
But little had made sense about Maud and William until I’d spoken to my brother that day. Only then had I come to truly understand the reason for their crimes. Undoubtedly they had both been born with arrogant, cruel and merciless natures. It also seemed that they had both experienced some ill-treatment at the hands of their fathers as children. But their real misfortune had been to find one another. Like two malefic planets, they had crossed the skies without causing harm until their paths crossed – when together they had created the darkest of conjunctions.
I shared this theory with Peter, but he accused me of being too poetic. Of romanticising their base and squalid depravity with this grand description. To his mind they were just a pair of monsters who gained gratification from inflicting pain upon another person. They were no better than two rotten apples. Stuck together in a barrel, they had decayed more quickly by touching.
* * *
In the end I had to expel all thoughts of their crimes from my mind. It was too disturbing. Too polluting. And so I threw myself back into my work, taking on extra tasks in the infirmary. Even though plague raged outside the walls of Kintham, we continued to be safe inside our refuge. Our patients at the infirmary were only suffering from the usual complaints to trouble a monastery full of old men. A swollen toe. An unexplained ache. A slow digestion.
Little did we know however, that our apparent safety had started to breed a dangerous complacency – particularly when it came to the Abbot. Though Peter begged him to change his mind, the foolish man had ordered new gowns from London. He paid no heed to Peter’s warnings that the seeds of plague can hide themselves in the warp and weft of a cloth, no matter how expensive the garment.
In the end Peter gave up. The Abbot was his superior and could do as he liked. And anyway, Peter and I had other fears to trouble us than the threat of plague. The Pestilence would abate eventually, as all plagues do, and then the gates to the monastery would open again. We both knew that William would come for us then. I only had to look at my little pewter knight to know our fate.
* * *
Knowing that our days of safety were numbered, I tried to think of ways to solve our problem and ensure that William would not kill us at the first opportunity – coming up with little of any use, until we received a surprise visit. The Abbot might have refused entry to William, but my brother was only the lord of one estate. When Earl Stephen appeared at the gates of Kintham, claiming that he wanted to confess his sins and pray for protection from the Plague, the Abbot had no choice but to raise the portcullis.
The Earl soon proved to be as unpleasant as his reputation suggested. Tall and bombastic, his voice boomed about the silent cloisters and passageways of Kintham like the call of a bittern, as he demanded food, wine, the Abbot’s bedchamber and then the forgiveness of his sins (in that order). Given that the Abbot had been ejected from his own quarters, the man was understandably keen for the Earl to leave Kintham as soon as possible – so masses were hastily said in the man’s honour, and speeches were given at every opportunity – extolling the Earl’s many personal virtues and saintly accomplishments. The Abbot hoped, no doubt, that the Earl would take the hint and leave Kintham at the first opportunity – feeling confident that his soul was now saved – and yet his stay endured. It seemed we were not the only men to understand the advantages of hiding behind these walls.
I was introduced to Earl Stephen briefly, since I was a de Lacy. As a tenant in chief, Earl Stephen held many of the lands in this part of Kent from the King himself, including my father’s estate at Somershill. It was through this arrangement that my family paid our allegiance to the crown, providing men from our villages to fight in the King’s armies.
I was taken to the Earl’s quarters and told to make conversation with the man, though it was difficult for an eighteen-year-old novice to find any common ground with a gnarled and battle-scared veteran of many wars. Thankfully the meeting was short – but it was during my time with the Earl that an idea came to me. A way that I might finally solve our problem with William.
The Earl had arrived at Kintham with a single guard and a single valet, but both of these servants were enjoying some relaxation from their usual duties, as there was little for them to do. The valet was mostly excused from dressing the Earl in his finest clothes each night, since there were no women to impress. The guard had nothing to guard, since the walls of Kintham were thick and the gates were locked. Given this general lack of care and attention, it was easy for me to wander back into the Earl’s bedchamber one morning and borrow his seal.
And this was not my only act of appropriation. The same day I had also taken a square of the best parchment, a quill and some ink from the scriptorium without anybody noticing. Once I had a private moment, I assembled my tools and material, and set about my task. It was only as I finished that I realised Peter was looming over my shoulder. It seemed that I could do nothing without his interference.
‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing to the letter I’d just written.
‘Nothing,’ I said, trying to push it from his view.
‘Why are you hiding it from me, then?’ he asked, grasping it from me before I was able to stop him.
He read it aloud.
To William de Lacy,
I am writing to request that you join me in Rochester, one week from today’s date, as a matter of urgency. (Please come no later than ten days from now.) When you arrive in the town, make your presence known at the Angel Inn, near to the East Gate. The innkeeper will send a messenger to inform me that you have arrived, and I will come to visit you there myself. Do not travel to my hall, as I wish to discuss this matter with you in complete secrecy. I will not state the entirety of my business here, but it is enough to say that the matter under discussion will be greatly in your interests.
The effects of plague have been devastating to our society, but where there is devastation there is also opportunity. I am looking for a select group of men, with whom I can forge a bright new future. A future that takes advantage of these unexpected opportunities. Those estates that have become vacant, thanks to this plague, are now available to families of the right calibre. There are profits to be made, and new land to occupy. I am approaching you before all of my other tenants, so I expect your complete discretion. Please do not acknowledge this letter, nor discuss it with anybody else. Until we meet in Rochester.
Your Lord, Earl Stephen. Written in haste on the Wednesday following Assumption Day.
I expected Peter to be angry, but instead he handed the letter back to me, before drawing up a seat next to mine. He sat silently for a while, before he finally spoke. ‘This is a risky plan,’ he said.
I didn’t answer.
Peter continued. ‘What if William doesn’t want to meet the Earl?’
‘He’ll go,’ I said, pointing to the words on the letter and reading them aloud. ‘There are profits to be made, and new land to occupy.’ William will not be able to resist such a bait,’ I added. ‘Also, William would not dare disobey the Earl. The man speaks for the King.’ I paused. ‘I can guarantee that my brother will be in Rochester within the next ten days.’
Peter swayed his head from side to side, and I could tell that he was still doubtful about my scheme. But, at least he had not screwed up the letter, nor given me a lecture about thieving. He drummed his fingers against his thighs. ‘You are relying heavily on chance,’ he said. ‘That is the flaw in this plan. The chance that William will believe the letter comes from the Earl.’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’ I said, lifting the borrowed seal from my lap, where it had been hiding. ‘This belongs to the Earl. Once I’ve stamped the letter, it will appear completely genuine.’
Peter looked surprised for a moment, and I thought he might chastise me – but this surprise soon altered into something else. I think that he was actually impressed with me at last.
‘Very well, Oswald,’ he said. ‘You’ve solved one problem. But there are other elements of chance at play here.
Let’s say that William believes this letter is genuine, how can we be sure that he’ll visit a town that’s notoriously ravaged with plague?’
‘William is arrogant,’ I said. ‘Conceited enough to believe that the plague won’t affect him because he’s a nobleman. A de Lacy.’
‘And what if it doesn’t affect him?’ asked Peter. ‘What if he doesn’t catch the Plague and die?’ He paused and fixed me with a stare. ‘I’m assuming that is the crux of your plan, isn’t it? To lure your brother into a trap and leave the rest to fate?’
I hesitated. ‘Do you have any other ideas?’
Peter pulled at the mole on his neck, twisting the flesh between his finger and thumb. ‘But what if William is protected from plague somehow? Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that his nobility does offer him a shield against the disease.’ He paused, holding up his hand to stop me from interrupting. ‘If he doesn’t die, then William will soon discover that he’s been tricked.’ He pointed to the letter. ‘And then he will guess that you are behind this deception. He will know that you lured him to Rochester, in the hope that he would die.’
‘So what?’
Peter drew in a breath and flared his nostrils. ‘So what? I’ll tell you what. He will be incandescent, and then it will not be long before he comes for us, Oswald.’
‘William will come for us anyway,’ I replied. ‘Don’t you see, Brother Peter? Once this plague has abated, we will not have a moment’s peace from my brother. As soon as we leave Kintham, we will have to watch our every move, in case William lies in wait. Look at the way he killed Maud. A woman whom he supposedly loved. The man is ruthless. If we do not act now, then we will be prisoners inside this monastery for the rest of our lives.’ I paused. ‘Either that, or we will be dead.’
Peter looked at me, unblinking. ‘You really think William would murder you, his own brother?’
I hesitated. ‘He cannot allow either of us to live, Brother Peter. You know that. What if we were to tell our story?’ Peter went to answer, but I continued, talking over him. ‘Yes, I know that most people would dismiss the tale as preposterous… but not everybody. As long as we stay alive, we are a risk to William.’ I paused. ‘You know the truth. We must kill William, or wait for him to kill us.’
Peter sat down on the bed and allowed his fingers to wander back to the mole at his neck. ‘You’re right, Oswald. I see that now.’ He sighed. ‘And you’ve devised a clever plan.’ He puffed the air from his cheeks and seemed to be speaking to himself. ‘And we’d get justice for William’s victims, wouldn’t we? Not to mention the women that we would be protecting from his future attacks. Therefore our acts would not be a sin in God’s eyes. It’s not as if we would be the murderers ourselves.’ I was about to answer, but suddenly he was on his feet, holding out his hand to me. ‘Let me help you with this,’ he said.
‘Oh yes?’ I kept my hands on the letter, not fully trusting his sudden enthusiasm.
‘How do you intend to deliver this to Somershill?’ he asked, ignoring my reticence.
‘I’m not sure,’ I admitted. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
‘Let me organise a messenger,’ he suggested. ‘It will be easier for me to do.’
I kept my hand pressed about the parchment, feeling wary of Peter’s motives. Was he trying to take the letter from me, just so that he could then destroy it? Was he still afraid of provoking my brother? ‘William mustn’t know that this letter has come from the monastery,’ I said. ‘Otherwise he might suspect that we’re involved.’
Peter nodded. ‘Yes. You’re right.’ He paused. ‘In that case, I’ll deliver it myself to Somershill, but I’ll go in disguise.’
‘You’ll go yourself?’ I said, my unease growing. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘I can get in and out of this monastery with greater ease than anybody. And also, I can borrow some livery from the Earl’s valet. The man has been in the infirmary with an ague, so I’ll insist that he stays in bed for another day. It will give me time to get to and from Somershill without being missed.’
‘Somebody might recognise you at Somershill?’
He shook his head. ‘I will be a messenger in the livery of the Earl. I’ll deliver the letter at the gatehouse and then ride away. Nobody will want to talk to me. Not at times such as these.’
He tried to take the letter from me, but I was still not quite ready to release it from my grasp. ‘I don’t know if I should involve you in this deception,’ I said.
Peter frowned. ‘Why’s that?’
‘It’s a plan to lure a man to his death. It is a sin, however we might dress it up as righteous punishment.’ I paused. ‘And you are a monk. A man of God.’
‘So are you,’ said Peter. ‘A Benedictine. Soon you will take your vows and join our brotherhood, Oswald. Your soul is every bit as important to God as mine.’
I shook my head. ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s not.’ I took a deep breath and looked to the shallow vault of the ceiling, unable to make eye contact with Peter. ‘I’m not going to take my vows.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve had the time to make my decision in the last few weeks. After everything that’s happened to us, I cannot continue here.’ I paused. ‘If I survive this plague then I will leave the monastery.’
‘You can’t do that.’
‘Yes, I can.’
‘But where will you go?’ he asked. ‘What will you do?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Brother Peter. I only know that I cannot stay here. I have no calling for this way of life.’
‘But that doesn’t matter, Oswald,’ he said, trying to sound flippant. ‘You’ll get used to it, in time.’
‘I’ve been here for ten years, Brother Peter. I am still not used to it.’ I replied. ‘And I never will be.’
Peter began to pace the room. ‘I suppose this is your cock talking.’ Before I could answer, he continued. ‘I’ve seen it all before, Oswald. A young novice imagines himself in love with a girl, only to throw away his life for a few nights of lust.’
‘I was not in love with Maud,’ I said.
‘But you were,’ he replied, turning to point a finger into my face. ‘You couldn’t see past a pair of beautiful eyes and a shapely figure. You couldn’t see that she had the darkest of hearts. So, how in God’s name can you trust your own judgment? How in God’s name can you be set free into the world?’
I grasped hold of his wrist and pushed his hand away. ‘This is not about Maud, Brother Peter. Or any other woman.’
Peter sighed. Perhaps he knew what was coming. ‘Then what is it about, Oswald?’ he said at length. ‘Please explain it to me.’
My throat was swollen and I felt a little off-balance, even though I was seated. ‘I have no faith, Peter,’ I said, forcing myself to speak the words aloud.
He shrugged. ‘Faith comes and goes,’ he replied. ‘Don’t worry about that.’
‘I have no faith,’ I repeated.
‘It really isn’t a problem, Oswald. God will speak to you sooner or later.’ He put a hand on my shoulder. ‘There are plenty of monks at this monastery who lack faith from time to time. I have suffered myself occasionally,’ he said with a kind smile. ‘Sometimes it completely disappears, but then it always returns.’
‘I have no faith, Peter. Do you understand me?’ I said. ‘I never have had, and I never will.’ I rose to my feet, to emphasise my point. ‘I am not going to take my vows. And I am not going to become a monk. My mind is fixed on this, and you cannot dissuade me.’
Peter clenched his fists. I think he momentarily considered trying to beat some faith into me, but then retreated from the idea. ‘Very well, Oswald,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘It is.’
‘Though I have no idea what you will do with yourself,’ he added. ‘There is no role for you back with your family, you know. The de Lacys don’t need another spare son. They already have Richard, riding about the forests with nothing to do. Even if our plan w
orks and William dies in Rochester, you will still be surplus to requirements.’
‘I don’t care,’ I said.
He grunted a scornful laugh at this. ‘Oh, you will care,’ he said. ‘When you’re left with nothing. You have never been poor, Oswald. You have no idea what it feels like.’
I shrugged and refused to look at him.
‘How do you expect to earn a living?’ he asked me. ‘You will have no land. You will have no profession.’
‘I don’t care,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t matter how many times you try to convince me. I will not take my vows. I will not join the Benedictines.’
He took a moment to dust down his tunic and compose himself. My confession had come as a shock, but he had borne it well enough. ‘You still want to send this letter to William?’ he finally asked me.
‘Yes.’
He puffed his lips and sighed again. ‘Yes, well. It’s now more important than ever,’ he said resignedly. ‘If you are to leave the monastery, then we cannot have you rolling around the country at the mercy of your murderous brother, can we?’
I looked up to catch his eye. Was he being sincere? It wasn’t always easy to tell with Peter, but I felt that he was. And so, I folded and sealed my letter and passed it to him. Peter would take it to Somershill that night, and we would wait to hear the news of William’s death.
* * *
The wait was long. Maybe six weeks. I can’t quite remember the exact timings as the Abbey was suffering troubles of its own in the meantime. The Abbot was the first to succumb to plague – thanks, no doubt, to those robes that he had foolishly ordered from London. Once the head of our order had died, there was talk of us all abandoning the Abbey – though many of the brothers continued to argue that we could be saved by praying for forgiveness. But Peter knew this strategy could never work for me. Not after confessing to my absence of faith. No amount of praying could save my soul – so he suggested that we flee the monastery and find somewhere to hide out until the danger had passed.