The Devil's Acolyte aktm-13

by Michael Jecks

  ‘Anyway, Gerard confessed to him, and begged to be forgiven, but asked what Reg would do, and Reg didn’t hesitate. He said he’d ask his mum. Me.’

  Baldwin lifted his mazer and saluted her. ‘And you advised?’

  ‘That he should stay where he was. But he said he feared Mark might kill him. That was what the monk had threatened – that he’d kill Gerard if he didn’t do as Mark wanted, and the same if he ever spoke about what he’d done.’

  ‘Yet he told you?’

  ‘He was so lost, the poor child. He didn’t know who to speak to, who to trust. By the time he came to us with Reg, he was almost past caring. The only thing he craved was certainty. And so the other possibility we suggested was that he should join the Host.’

  ‘We gave him some of Reg’s old clothes to wear, and I personally shaved him bald. I reckoned that would make him hard to recognise,’ Nob said with some pride. ‘When he went to join the Host, I spoke up for him, and I had paid some others to help, so that was no trouble. We thought he’d be far away by now.’

  Cissy’s face hardened. ‘He hasn’t got away, has he? You’re not cheating us into telling you what happened?’

  ‘No, Cissy,’ Simon said quietly, and told her about the lad in the infirmary and the death of Joce.

  ‘Poor Joce. I never much liked him, but I wouldn’t wish that sort of death on any man,’ Nob shuddered.

  ‘Save your sympathy, you old fool! It’s Gerard you should feel sorry for,’ Cissy said scathingly. ‘The poor young fellow’s near death, from what these gentlemen say.’

  ‘Our Reg won’t be looked on with great favour, not once the Abbot knows what he did,’ Nob said.

  ‘Oh!’ Cissy cried. There was a terrible lurch in her belly at the thought, although she couldn’t deny a certain hope that he might be thrown from the Abbey so that he could marry and settle, just as she had always wanted.

  ‘We can only pray that Gerard recovers fully,’ Simon said.

  ‘I need hardly say how pleased I am with your work, Simon,’ the Abbot said at breakfast the next morning. He had invited Simon, Baldwin and the Coroner to join him, and he sat eyeing Reginald dubiously as the novice tried to serve the Abbot and his guests with the same professional skill as Augerus. ‘You have discovered the secrets of so many with such skill, that even now I scarcely comprehend the full story.’

  ‘I am sure we should never have learned the full facts without his efforts,’ Baldwin said.

  Simon glanced at Baldwin, who gazed back innocently. ‘I am glad you are pleased, my Lord Abbot. I try to serve you as best I may.’

  ‘You have always been a good servant.’

  ‘I am only sorry to have disappointed you so often this year, my Lord,’ Simon said with his head bowed.

  ‘What do you mean?’ The Abbot looked baffled.

  ‘Simon is convinced you are so miserable with his abject inability to serve you,’ Baldwin said, ‘that he thinks you wish to remove him from his position. Especially after the mistake of the hammer.’

  ‘What, you mean the coining hammer?’ the Abbot demanded, astonished.

  Baldwin had thrown out the comment in the hope that he might tease the Abbot into an admission that he was going to move Simon, however the tone of surprise sounded so authentic, he glanced up into the Abbot’s face.

  ‘I believed that the coining hammer was the last straw, my Lord Abbot,’ Simon said. ‘What with the fiasco of Oakhampton’s tournaments, and the madness at Sticklepath.’

  ‘Them?’ The Abbot waved his hand in genial dismissal. ‘Nothing! They had no effect upon me. And you managed to find who was guilty, didn’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Simon said. There was a lightheadedness, as though he had drunk too much of the Abbot’s strong wine. Perhaps he had, he thought, but now the atmosphere of the Abbey had lost its menace. It felt calm, friendly and compassionate again.

  He need not fear for his post, he need not fear for his money, for his wife’s sense of well-being, for her happiness. All was well. All would remain well. He reached forward and poured himself more wine, picking up his goblet with a feeling of renewal, as though he had sat on the edge of a precipice, the soil slipping away from him, doom awaiting him, and the Abbot had saved him, gripping his arms even as he toppled forth into the abyss.

  ‘No, Bailiff. I am very content with you,’ the Abbot continued amiably.

  ‘Then what was it you were saying to me after the coining, my Lord Abbot? You appeared to be concerned about my work.’

  ‘Not about your work, no. About the workload. I didn’t want to keep loading you with more duties, in case you couldn’t cope with them all, but you seem to have the shoulders of an ox when it comes to bearing responsibility.’

  ‘I can certainly help with more duties,’ Simon said quickly. He dared not refuse any job, not after his concerns of the last few days.

  ‘Good! I am pleased. As you know, I have been granted the position of Keeper of the Port of Dartmouth, and I need a good man to go down there and manage my affairs.’

  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?’

&nb
sp; ‘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.

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