Ghosts of Yorkshire

by Karen Perkins

  ‘I think we can – one stage, two locations. Henry in his, Becket in his, and use lighting to distinguish between the two. So when Henry makes Becket archbishop, the Norman castle and Henry are spotlighted, whilst Becket and Canterbury is dark. Then when Becket denounces his chancellorship, Canterbury is lit and Normandy dark. The lighting will switch between the two, following their dialogue. Is that possible, Alec?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely. It will take quite a bit of setting up to programme, but there shouldn’t be any problems.’

  ‘Great,’ Helen said. ‘What about sets? Do we have enough time?’

  ‘Just about,’ Ed said. ‘But they’ll be rough – I can’t go too detailed in the time we have. I think we can manage with one backdrop in a masonry design, so we can use it for the final scene too, then use different furniture and props to show the difference between castle and cathedral.’

  ‘Okay.’ Helen paused, knowing she had to ask the next question. ‘So, does anybody feel any ill effects after what we did last week?’

  ‘Aside from your broken wrist, you mean?’ Alec said.

  ‘Well, yes,’ Helen said.

  Silence.

  ‘We didn’t close the board,’ Sarah said. ‘The woman in the shop, Donna, said we had to close the board.’

  ‘I think the board closed itself, babes,’ Dan said, and Sarah glanced at him in annoyance at the annoying pet name.

  Chapter 13

  THOMAS BECKET (CHARLIE THOROGOOD)

  Great Hall, Archbishop’s Palace, Canterbury Cathedral.

  So here I be, yesterday a layman, today the Church’s highest authority in the land. What is my friend Henry thinking? And why does he not take my advice in this of all things?

  (Sits at desk with quill, ink pot and parchment)

  I may have no say in the archbishopric, but I shall resign as Chancellor, if only I could find the words to express my ire at Henry.

  ‘Okay, stop there, Charlie,’ Helen called. ‘This is where we need to get to know Becket as a man. Who is he? What’s his character?’

  ‘Why don’t you hold another séance and ask him?’ Dan said, sarcastic as ever. Helen glared at him, then softened.

  ‘Not one of my better ideas, I admit,’ she said. ‘Where is the board, anyway, has anyone found it? I think we should burn it.’

  Dan look surprised. ‘I thought you’d taken it.’

  Helen shook her head. ‘Not me, anyone else?’

  Sarah, Mike, Ed, Alec, Paul and Charlie all shook their heads.

  ‘Well, never mind, I’m sure it will turn up,’ Helen said and brought her attention back to Charlie on stage.

  ‘Becket’s an important man. Up until now he’s been the closest man to the King, Charlie.’

  Charlie nodded. ‘And now he’s a priest, with no choice about the matter, I get it,’ he said.

  ‘Do you? He likes the finer things in life – clothing, food, hunting, women,’ Helen said.

  ‘Should fit right in then,’ Paul said with a laugh. ‘The bishops can go hunting together!’

  ‘Ah, that they may have done, My Lord. But that shall not follow now I am the Primate of All England.’

  ‘That’s it, Charlie! You’re getting it – you sound just like Becket,’ Helen said, striking her knee with her good hand in place of clapping.

  ‘My thanks, fair maiden,’ Charlie said, bowing to his director.

  ‘Thomas, my friend, thee must leave the ladies of the kingdom alone now,’ Paul said, mounting the steps to the stage.

  ‘Ah, so that is why thee foisted this most unwelcome honour on me. Thee is scared of the competition!’

  Paul laughed and clapped his friend on the back. ‘Not at all, Thomas. With thy help I shall bow the Church to my will and the will of England. No more of this petty squabbling that has become so arduous.’

  ‘But Henry, thee has given me a great duty. As Archbishop of Canterbury, I must serve God above all else.’

  ‘Thee serves me, Thomas,’ Paul said. ‘Me, thy King.’

  ‘Of course, Sire,’ Charlie said. ‘I serve thee after God.’

  ‘Thomas, I warn thee now, consider thy actions with care,’ Paul said, balling his fists. ‘I have not risen thee so high to stand against me. That does not follow. Does thee hear me, Bishop?’ The last word was a sneer.

  ‘Verily, Sire, and I shall bring all my powers to the task of tallying my spiritual duties with those demanded by thee.’

  Paul opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by clapping from the auditorium.

  ‘This is going to work, isn’t it?’ Dan said. ‘This is really going to work.’

  Helen grinned. ‘Oh yes, and a great bit of improv, guys. Can we try again with the scripts now? Scene three, from the top.’

  Paul moved back to his position, and Charlie readied himself to restart his monologue.

  THOMAS BECKET/CHARLIE THOROGOOD

  I cannot fathom why my king has forced this upon me. Archbishop of Canterbury and Chancellor of England? Nay, ’tis too much, how do I reconcile such conflicting differences in my duties? I cannot.

  ‘Hold it there, Charlie,’ Helen said. ‘You’re wooden again.’

  ‘Maybe it’s the monologue,’ Sarah said. ‘It just isn’t natural. Why don’t you combine this scene with Paul’s monologue in scene four? Have them both on stage and interacting – we can use that trick with the lights and sets you talked about.’

  Helen pursed her lips in thought, then nodded. ‘Okay, let’s try it. Just improv for the moment and I’ll rewrite.’

  ‘Sire, ’tis with great reluctance, with not fear nor favour, that I must tender my resignation as your Chancellor,’ Charlie said, pretending to write as he spoke. ‘I find my pastoral duties too great to be able to fully apply myself to both positions.’

  Paul crossed to the table and grabbed a piece of paper. ‘Need a prop,’ he said by way of explanation, then retook his position, cleared his throat and pretended to read.

  ‘By God’s eyes,’ he exclaimed. ‘I am betrayed and by my greatest friend in the nation! Is he now to be my most formidable enemy?’ Paul appealed to the audience, arms spread wide.

  ‘I fear I have angered my king,’ Charlie said, head in his hands, then he sat up straight. ‘But he has brought us to this pass.’ He stood and approached the audience, putting Becket’s case forward.

  ‘Did I advise him to follow this road? Nay, I did not. Did I not warn him against taking this step? Indeed I did. Did he listen?’ he said, voice rising, then softened once more. ‘Of course, he did not.’ Charlie gave a small laugh and shook his head.

  Paul stepped forward. ‘Betrayed!’ he shouted. ‘Betrayed by my most faithless friend! Whom now shall I trust? Who now is deserving of their king’s favour?’

  Silence.

  ‘Indeed,’ Paul said softly. ‘No man in England is worthy of my faith, no man but myself.’

  ‘I don’t think they need that rewrite, Helen,’ Dan said. ‘They seem to be doing pretty well on their own.’

  Helen nodded. ‘Well done, guys, time for the pub, first round’s on me.’

  Chapter 14

  The Borough Bailiff was one of the oldest pubs on the High Street. Named for the stewards who collected the rents for their lords, it was friendly, down-to-earth and a favourite of the Castle Players.

  ‘Same again?’ Dan asked and grabbed a twenty from the pooled money in the centre of their long table.

  ‘Keep ’em coming, mate,’ Mike said and laughed.

  ‘Are you okay, Mike?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Fine, Sarah, just peachy,’ Mike said, leaning back on the bench seat and dropping his arm along the back of it. ‘They did well today didn’t they?’ he added, leaning into Sarah’s shoulder.

  ‘They did. Though I don’t think Helen is too pleased that her script went out of the window.’

  ‘Too bad. The improv came across natr . . . nature . . . smoothly,’ Mike said.

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘What’s wron
g?’

  ‘Well, you don’t think it had anything to do with that spirit board, do you?’ Sarah asked quietly.

  ‘No, that was just a bit of silliness.’

  ‘But the way we all fell! Helen broke her wrist – that’s more than silliness.’

  ‘Power of suggestion,’ Mike said, finding it easier to get his words out with a little concentration. ‘That’s all, don’t worry about it.’ He stroked Sarah’s hair and left his arm about her shoulder.

  ‘Get your hands off my wife.’ Dan slammed pints of bitter and lager on the table.

  ‘Sorry mate, nothing meant,’ Mike said, lifting both hands in supplication.

  ‘Like hell there wasn’t!’

  ‘Hey, settle down guys,’ Paul said. ‘We’re all friends here.’

  ‘This bastard’s getting far too friendly with my wife,’ Dan said, leaning over the table towards Mike.

  ‘Well, maybe you should treat her better,’ Mike said.

  Silence.

  ‘What the hell do you mean by that?’ Dan’s voice was low and measured, and Sarah panicked.

  ‘Nothing, Dan, he doesn’t mean anything, he’s just had too much to drink.’

  ‘And why are you defending him?’ Dan switched his ire towards his wife. ‘Are you sleeping with him?’

  ‘Dan!’ Sarah said, shocked. ‘Of course not.’

  Dan stood upright. ‘Yeah, now I see it, the pair of you have been too pally for far too long. And you enjoyed the kiss in the last play far too much. I see it now, you’ve been banging each other since then, haven’t you?’

  ‘Dan, how many times?’ Sarah said, exasperated by not only having this fight again, but in company. ‘It was a stage kiss, we’re actors just as you are. There was nothing more to it.’

  ‘Yeah, I bet,’ Dan sneered.

  ‘Dan, calm down, mate,’ Mike said. ‘You’re embarrassing yourself.’

  ‘Embarrassing? You’re pawing my wife and call me embarrassing?’ Dan lunged across the table and grabbed the front of Mike’s T-shirt. The table collapsed, beer foaming over the carpet as Sarah screamed.

  ‘That’s enough!’ the landlady shouted. ‘Get him out of here!’

  Alec and Ed had already jumped up to grab Dan. He shook them off and slapped Sarah. ‘Whore!’ he shouted. Alec and Ed caught hold of his arms and wrestled him out of the pub.

  Helen pulled Sarah into a hug.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,’ Sarah said. ‘I don’t know what’s got into him lately. This isn’t him, it really isn’t. Yes he can be a prick sometimes, but not like this.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sarah,’ Mike said. ‘I was just winding him up, I didn’t mean . . .’

  ‘I think you’ve said enough, Mike,’ Helen said.

  ‘No,’ Sarah said. ‘Mike’s right, they take the piss out of each other all the time.’ She reached out a hand and clasped Mike’s forearm. ‘It’s not your fault, it’s Dan. I don’t know if something’s happened at work or what, but he’s been in a right mood for ages.’

  ‘What’s happening out there?’ Helen said, trying to peer through the window in response to a crashing sound.

  ‘I don’t know, but I don’t think I’m the best person to go and find out,’ Mike said.

  Helen nodded. ‘I’ll go. Mike, you and Charlie look after Sarah, okay?’

  Both men nodded and Mike and Sarah sat down, Mike’s arms around Sarah as she sobbed into his chest.

  ‘I’ll help clean this mess up,’ Charlie said. ‘And pay for the damage.’

  ‘Charlie, no, I should do that, it’s my fault,’ Sarah said through gasping breaths.

  ‘No it isn’t,’ Charlie said. ‘Quite the opposite. Anyway, it’ll come out of the Castle Players’ fund, not my own pocket.’ He winked at Sarah and went to attempt to placate the landlady.

  Chapter 15

  February 1171

  ‘You are joining us?’ Morville asked his wife as she entered the great hall, dressed in a forest-green bliaut over a sky-blue chainse.

  ‘I am,’ Helwise replied. ‘I have been training a new merlin, she has done well on her own. I should like to try her in a full hunt.’

  Morville nodded and the men shifted on the benches to make room for the lady of the castle to sit. The four knights had been joined by Helwise’s brother, William de Stoteville; Gamellor, Lord of the Manor of Beckwith; Sir John Goldesburgh and Sir Nigel de Plumton.

  No lord’s table this morning; the knights had gathered around one of the low tables where they had more room to huddle together to plan the hunt. Warmed by a roaring fire, in front of which half a dozen greyhounds stretched, spirits were high and all were looking forward to the day’s activity.

  FitzUrse helped himself to another hunk of bread and lump of cheese as Thomas de Screven, the forester and head huntsman, strode into the hall, accompanied by two very happy looking lymers. The dogs rushed over to the fire to greet the greyhounds and Screven joined the knights and Helwise.

  ‘Well?’ Morville asked.

  ‘A white hart, My Lord, in Haya Park. Twelve points. I have been keeping an eye on him for some time, he is a fine beast.’

  ‘And you have his trail?’ FitzUrse asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Screven replied and unrolled a scroll depicting the hunting grounds. ‘He is in this area here,’ he indicated the eastern quadrant, ‘near Ferrensby.’

  ‘Not far from Spofford,’ Morville said.

  ‘Yes. I met with Sir William’s man, the Baron is on his way here to join you.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Morville said. ‘I had feared he would not accompany us, I have received no reply to my message.’

  ‘Another of his jests,’ FitzUrse said with a scowl. ‘He has been spending too much time in the company of Hamelin Plantagenet.’

  ‘God’s blood, they had me going,’ Tracy said.

  ‘Yes, you looked as if you had soiled yourself,’ FitzUrse said.

  ‘I think you all did,’ Goldesburgh said, and the company of nobles roared with laughter. FitzUrse took a moment, then his colour calmed and he joined in the merriment.

  ‘By God, he had us going,’ Morville said, repeating Tracy’s earlier words. ‘I surely thought King Henry wanted our heads.’

  ‘No, we served him well by cutting out the canker of England.’

  ‘Henry’s heroes,’ Helwise said.

  ‘Henry’s heroes! Hear that, My Lords? We’re Henry’s heroes! All is well, we shall soon return to Normandy and to our king’s side.’

  ‘To our king’s right hand,’ FitzUrse corrected. ‘We are the best of his knights now. To Henry’s heroes,’ he toasted, raising his goblet high.

  The men and Helwise drank, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, then Morville brought their attention back to the business of the day.

  ‘What better way to celebrate our great feat than to bring down a white hart? That rarest of beasts, his head can go right there.’ He pointed at the far wall behind the lord’s table. ‘He will grace Cnaresburg Castle and boast of our success for generations to come.’

  ‘I shall drink to that,’ Tracy said, upending his goblet once more.

  ‘Which way is the beast headed?’

  The men turned as one, then stood to greet the aged William de Percy, Baron of Topcliffe. Helwise curtsied.

  ‘I bid you welcome, My Lord,’ Morville said, and Percy crossed the room to place a gallant kiss on Lady Morville’s hand.

  ‘Lady Sybil sends her regards, Helwise, alas her hunting days are behind her, but she bids you be successful and teach these men a thing or two of the chase,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘I shall do my utmost, Sir William,’ Helwise said and Percy patted her hand. Their families had known each other for many years, and Percy was as fiercely protective of her as he was of his own daughters.

  Trying not to show his irritation, Morville called for more bread and cheese as well as more flagons of Rhenish for his esteemed guest, then ushered Percy to the central position on the bench
facing the fire.

  The others shifted once more to realign the pecking order, and Percy sat down, raising his eyebrows at Screven.

  ‘I spotted him here, My Lord, heading north,’ the huntsman said, pointing at the chart. ‘I suggest relays of hounds at these points.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Percy said. ‘Put one of the relays there.’ He indicated the place he meant. ‘That terrain is rough, he may bear west for flatter, faster ground.’

  ‘As you wish, My Lord.’

  Screven bowed to Percy, then again to Morville, before calling the dogs to heel and exiting.

  ‘Your marshal has your mounts ready?’ Percy asked Morville.

  ‘Yes, My Lord.’

  ‘Then let us depart. Tally-ho!’ He raised his goblet and the men and Helwise toasted to the success of their hunt.

  *

  Horns announced the nobles’ departure from Cnaresburg Castle, warning the townsfolk that a horde of horsemen would soon be tramping through the marketplace and up the High Street towards Haya Park.

  Traders and tradesmen scurried to shift carts and stalls to expose a thoroughfare through the centre of the marketplace, which was soon turned to chaos. The nobles were a clash of colour in their finery, each trying to outdo the other in their garishness: Morville in blue and white, Tracy red and white, and Brett and FitzUrse in red and yellow. Percy even had his courser, smaller than the destriers ridden in war, but a powerful beast nonetheless, decked out in blue and yellow to match his cloak.

  The local butcher had a battle to keep the hounds from his wares; although well-trained, the dogs were hungry and excited at the prospect of the hunt, and the smell of fresh, even less-than-fresh meat, proved to be too much. Screven’s shouts and blows of his horn to keep his charges in order merely added to the confusion, and the townsfolk, bar the butcher, revelled in the spectacle; cheering and applauding their lords as they passed. They knew that a hunt meant a feast later that day, with a surplus of leftovers to be distributed amongst the commoners of Cnaresburg.