The Fate of the Arrow

by Shel Pais

  The baker began to tremble. “Please, kind sir, it was left over and I had forgotten it was there. It wasn’t meant for someone as you, but only for some poor villager.” The baker picked up another one and handed it to Walter. “This was just baked this morning. Please take it at no charge with my apologies.”

  Walter took the scone. It was fresh and very tasty.

  “All right, I won’t say anything this time. But I want you to do something for me.”

  “Anything, sir. What do you want of me?”

  “A forester was recently found dead without any wounds, and his weapons were gone. We’re trying to find out what happened to him and his weapons. I want you to keep your ears open. I would think most of the townspeople come by your bakery.”

  “That they do, sir. Except for the Jews, of course.”

  Walter stopped and thought for a moment. The Jews; I wonder if any of them were queried about what happened.

  “Of course. They stay to themselves and don’t eat what we eat. Never mind them. If you hear anything, I want you to tell me immediately and not the sheriff, do you understand? I am Sir Walter, the baron’s sergeant.”

  “Yes, Sir Walter, I know who you are. I will only tell you. Anyway, the sheriff already questioned my son.”

  “He did? How old is your boy?”

  “He’s ten. But he never goes into the forest. It’s too dangerous, I always tell him.”

  “Tell him to keep his ears open as well. If you help me, I’ll see you are rewarded. But if you tell the sheriff before you tell me, or if what you tell me isn’t true, I’ll cut off your ears.”

  “Don’t worry, Sir Walter. Anything I learn, you will hear it first.”

  “Good.”

  Walter was not certain the baker could help him, but it would not hurt to have someone like him as a spy in the town. He thought again about the Jews. Could one of them have been involved with Ronald’s death and taken the weapons? The more he thought about it, the more he decided it could not have happened. Jews know they cannot have weapons, and they would not know the first thing what to do with them. He laughed to himself. They cannot fight. Their boys just study and pray. I have seen them. But then he thought about the one he had heard about who could fight with his fists and did not seem to be afraid like the other Jewish boys. He laughed again. A Jew with weapons? Absurd. He continued laughing as he returned to the castle.

  Upon returning to their previous postings, Abbot Hubert and Father Alwyn gathered their belongings, and made the uneventful journey to Hedgestone Priory. It was close to mid-July and quite hot. A priest drove a wagon with several chests, mostly containing Hubert’s personal items. Alwyn had many fewer belongings.

  As Hedgestone came into view, they both noticed how run down it appeared. The buildings showed evidence of disrepair and neglect, and the grounds were unkempt. It would take considerable work and funds to fix everything. Hubert began wondering what he had gotten himself into. Did Basil give him this assignment to punish him? How was he to finance everything? It seemed like this was going to be a very difficult job, but he was determined to successfully complete it as quickly as he could. He did not want to be stuck there for a long time. His ambitions were to become a bishop, but they did not stop there. He would do anything necessary to eventually become a cardinal.

  “It doesn’t look like much, does it?” Alwyn said.

  “No, it doesn’t. It’s going to take a lot of work to turn this place around. I will need your full cooperation, Alwyn, and to follow my orders to the letter. However, I will welcome your input and expect you to assist me as much as you are able.”

  Alwyn nodded while his thoughts returned to what a pompous ass Hubert is. I am just as capable as he is, he thought. He reminded himself that Bishop Basil was relying on him to keep an eye on Hubert. Alwyn had no problem with Hubert failing or at least suffering the bishop’s wrath. Alwyn had his own ambitions, and maybe he could accomplish them without Hubert.

  They rode up to the door of the priory and dismounted. Hubert pulled the bell cord. No one came, so this time he rang the bell harder and pounded on the door. “Open up. It’s Abbot Hubert.”

  They heard the shuffling of feet and the murmur of voices. There was a small hole cut out in the door, and it slowly opened. “Who are you?” a voice called out.

  “I already told you. I’m Abbot Hubert. Now let me in!”

  “We were not expecting any visitors. Wait here. I’ll get Prior Bartholomew.”

  Hubert became furious. “Open this door immediately. I am here on the bishop’s business.”

  This stunned Alwyn. Bishop Basil had explicitly told Hubert not to tell Bartholomew why he was there.

  Hubert did not faze the man behind the door. “I will get the prior,” he repeated. He closed the little door, and they heard him walking away.

  “Hedgestone definitely needs my special talents,” Hubert said to Alwyn. “I will show them how to pay respect to me.”

  Alwyn smiled and said nothing. After several minutes, they again heard footsteps and the priory door slowly creaked open. They saw a very old man and a somewhat younger man standing in front of them. The older man used a walking stick to help support himself.

  “Greetings, Abbot Hubert, is it? I am Prior Bartholomew. This is Father Ambrose. We are sorry to keep you waiting. We were not expecting any visitors, and do not understand why anyone would come on the bishop’s business.”

  Hubert studied both men. The little hair Bartholomew had left was completely white. He wore a very dirty robe that had several small tears in it. Covered with food stains, it looked like it had never been washed. Ambrose had gray hair, and his robe was not quite as dirty as Bartholomew’s was. Both men smelled terribly.

  “Yes, I am Abbot Hubert. This is Father Alwyn. We are here on the bishop’s business but cannot tell you anything more at this time. I am appalled at how both of you look. Do you not care about cleanliness?”

  “I am sorry, Your Grace. There has been sickness here—ague and the flux. Many of us are just getting over it. We chose to stay this way until all had passed.”

  Hubert looked worried. “I see. Is it safe to enter?”

  “I do not know, Your Grace. I believe so, but one can never be sure,” Bartholomew said. “We do have clean quarters available where there was no sickness, if that meets with your approval.”

  “Very well. Lead us.”

  Hubert had been to a few priories, and this one looked smaller than most. There was a chapel building, a main building, and a structure that resembled a barn that no doubt doubled as a stable. Hubert noticed it looked even worse on the inside than what one could see on the outside. A well stood in the middle of an unkempt courtyard. The walls surrounding the priory also showed signs of neglect. The more he saw, the more Hubert realized this was going to be harder than he thought if the bishop really did want to restore Hedgestone. When Basil arrived, he would have to discuss this with him. Hubert wanted to be sure both of them agreed completely on what exactly is expected of him. He did not want any margin of error.

  The quarters Bartholomew and Ambrose showed them were actually better than Hubert expected. They were guest rooms, no doubt intended for higher-ranking churchmen, and larger than the usual, cell-like accommodations he was used to. Hubert was surprised to see how clean they were, considering the rest of the priory. Each room had a table with a vase of fresh flowers. However, Hubert wondered if anyone had come to visit there in the last several years. He had many questions to ask about Hedgestone, but he would have to be patient until Bishop Basil arrived and announced Hubert would now be in charge.

  “These will do just fine, Bartholomew,” Hubert said.

  “Good. Then we will leave you two to rest after your journey.”

  Alwyn went into his own room, and Hubert sat on the bed. The mattress seemed to be fresh, and there were no bugs.

  After a few minutes, Alwyn appeared at the doorway of Hubert’s room. “Are you as surprised as I am with the
state of these rooms?”

  “I am. From what we have seen so far of this priory, I expected much worse. I want to tour the grounds and start thinking about what needs to be done.”

  “I suggest you be careful, Hubert.”

  “What for? Bartholomew is old, and he has to assume he would be replaced soon.”

  “Yes, but you are an outsider. Priors are usually elected by the senior monks, are they not?”

  “Usually. But the bishop can override that and appoint whomever he wants. Anyway, I am only doing this to help the bishop. After all, an abbot is higher than a prior is. I plan to turn this place around, ensure there are no issues with the Jews, and move on to my next assignment, no doubt on the bishop’s staff. Then he or the monks can have whomever they want as the next prior unless it’s you.”

  Alwyn hid his anger. “We will see, Hubert. There is much to be done here, and it will be expensive.”

  About an hour later, one of the monks appeared. “Prior Bartholomew would like both of you to join him in the refectory for some refreshment. Please come with me.”

  Hubert and Alwyn followed the monk into the refectory. It was extremely barren, with only a long table and benches. Prior Bartholomew sat at one end. Father Ambrose was next to him on his left. They both had bathed and now wore clean robes.

  “Please sit down. Brother Mark, bring food and wine for our guests.” The monk nodded and left the room.

  “Your Grace, may I call you Hubert? At my age I don’t have much need for standing on ceremony.”

  “Certainly, Bartholomew. I know you have served the Church well for many years. How long have you been prior here?”

  Bartholomew thought for a moment. “I believe it is just over thirty years. Much has changed since I first came here as a young man and eventually was elected prior.”

  Hubert nodded and smiled. “I am certain that is true.” He paused and looked directly at Bartholomew. “Tell me, the priory does not appear to be in a good condition. Have you not been able to keep it up?”

  Father Ambrose began to answer, but Bartholomew raised his hand to indicate he should not.

  “We have done our best, but conditions have been harsh. Our parishioners are poor, and we have not been able to generate much income. It’s hard enough to keep us fed.”

  “I do not understand. The peasants are supposed to work your land for free and to pay for church services, such as baptisms. You have not been collecting these, have you?”

  Hubert could see Ambrose was getting angry. He stood and addressed Hubert. “You have no right to criticize Prior Bartholomew. You have just arrived and know nothing about our life here.” Ambrose was almost yelling.

  “Ambrose, please contain yourself,” Bartholomew ordered. “I am sure Abbot Hubert meant no disrespect.”

  “My apologies to both of you,” Hubert said, bowing his head slightly. “Father Ambrose is right. I do not know anything about life here, although I am most eager to learn. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

  Bartholomew looked intently at Hubert. “I am sure I will be replaced soon, as I had recently received word from Bishop Basil he will be arriving in a few days. I can only assume you will be replacing me.”

  Hubert did his best not to respond, but Bartholomew noticed a slight smile on the abbot’s face.

  “This is the only life I have ever known, and I was hoping to perform my duties until I died. Now that may not be possible.” He paused and took a deep breath.

  “There are very good people here, Hubert. And not only the monks. We have established strong relationships with the townspeople, and even the Jews. I have made it a priority to take care of the parishioners first. That is why our priory may seem a bit run down. Our mission is not to acquire wealth, but to foster the wealth of the human heart and spirit. We believe that is what God prefers, and what our Savior preached. There is too much greed in this world, and it only causes sin and sinners.”

  Bartholomew’s words took Hubert by surprise. He especially wanted to question him about his statement regarding the Jews. However, he would wait until he took over. Yes, he thought, there is much to change here. Now I understand why Basil chose me to undertake this task.

  Brother Mark then arrived, carrying a tray with wine and bowls of stew, which Hubert noticed smelled quite good. Mark poured wine for all four of them, and after saying grace, they ate in silence.

  “Thank you for this delicious meal, Bartholomew. I must say I am surprised you have provided such a tasty and abundant supper. With the conditions I have seen so far, there is much work to be done here,” Hubert said. With a smirk on his face he added, “Whoever is charged with this responsibility will have much to do.”

  Bartholomew smiled. “I trust you will wait until Bishop Basil arrives and officially makes the change before you do anything?”

  This time Hubert stared blankly and ignored Bartholomew’s words. “We are tired. Come, Alwyn, let us rest before Vespers.” They both arose and returned to their quarters.

  Ambrose waited until they had left. “I don’t have a good feeling about him, Bartholomew. He will cause problems, I’m sure of it.”

  “Perhaps,” Bartholomew said. “Even if I am not prior, I still will be here and will be able to keep an eye on him. I am not in such a poor condition that I am helpless. If I get the chance, I will discuss my concerns with Bishop Basil. I do not want to see Hubert unravel in a short time what we have accomplished after years of effort. I still believe in what we have done, especially our relationship with the Jews.”

  Ambrose nodded. “I agree. Why would any Jew consider accepting Christ if we treat them so poorly? By setting an example of kindness and caring, we have nurtured an understanding I believe will begin to bear fruit. Hubert will not continue that, I am sure, and all our work will have been for nothing.”

  Bartholomew sighed. “I am afraid you may be correct. If we are criticized for being too close with the Jews, it will not be the first time.”

  “And no doubt not the last time either,” Ambrose added.

  DAVID WALKED CAREFULLY AS HE approached the hiding place where he left the forester’s weapons. Avram tagged along behind him, frantically scanning all directions for outlaws, wild animals, foresters, or the king’s men.

  “Stop being so afraid, Avram. Nothing’s going to happen to us.”

  “I’m not as sure as you are, David. The forest is full of danger. You’ve heard the stories as well as I have.”

  David laughed. “Yes, they’re stories, just that. If you aren’t afraid, you have nothing to fear. Do you still think there are evil spirits here?”

  “Don’t make fun of me. I came to help you, not to be your bodyguard. I will watch out for any signs of danger or anyone approaching while you practice your archery, but that’s all. I cannot and will not fight anyone or anything.”

  “I know, Avram. I know. Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

  Avram stayed back while David found the hiding place. Everything was as he had left it. He had brought materials to make a target and cloth to wrap around the weapons to help protect them. He removed the bow and arrows, examining them for any defects. There were none. David returned, showing Avram the bow.

  “This is so beautiful,” he said. “Look how the wood is crafted, how it’s carved so perfectly. I have never seen a more wonderful bow.”

  “Well, how many have you seen anyway? Especially up close?”

  “A few. Maybe not so close. But I have been to an archery tournament.”

  “You are really enamored with it.”

  “Avram, you know I am. I still cannot believe I have this.”

  “You’d better keep it between us or you won’t have it anymore. You’ll be arrested, and God only knows what could happen to you.”

  “Can you imagine what everyone would say? A Jewish archer? Not since biblical times has there been one, I guess. Or at least not since the expulsion by the Romans.”

  David carefully strung the bow, held it
in his left hand, and tried to pull back the string with his right arm. He hardly could move it.

  “This is going to be harder than I thought. I will have to get stronger.”

  David knew archers practiced for years before they could use a longbow. This was not a longbow, but a shorter one used by the foresters for hunting. The draw was still difficult for him. It would take some time, but he knew he eventually could do it, and would keep working at it. Avram was disappointed.

  “So, I came all the way here, risking my life, and you can’t even shoot one arrow?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would be so hard. I promise that soon you’ll be able to watch me shoot.”

  David decided not to build the target yet, since he would not need it for a while. He practiced pulling the string until his arm ached and his fingers hurt. “I think I’m done for today, Avram. Let’s go home.” David unstrung the bow and returned it and the arrows to the hiding place, being careful to conceal it well, again using a branch to wipe away any footprints.

  The boys saw no one else on the road as they returned to West End. Mordecai was waiting for David when he arrived.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Avram and I were walking in the forest. I enjoy the peace and solitude, except for Avram’s fear of witches and spirits.”

  Mordecai laughed. “It’s not witches and spirits I fear but outlaws and Jew-haters who would just as soon kill you as look at you.”

  “Now, Father, I can take care of myself.”

  “Perhaps you could fight off an outlaw, but Avram could not.”

  “True, Father. I’ve offered to teach him, but he doesn’t want to learn and has no confidence in himself.”

  “He doesn’t have the strength you do, that is certain,” Mordecai said. “Please, David, you must not take chances. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

  “I’ll be careful, Father. I promise.”

  “Good. Now let’s prepare for supper.”

  Bishop Basil arrived at Hedgestone with a small entourage. Basil and Father Eustace rode horses, while two other priests rode in a wagon that carried the bishop’s baggage. Eustace pulled on the bell rope, ringing it several times. After a few minutes, a monk appeared at the small opening cut into the door. Eustace spoke without greeting him.