Wolf Wood (Part One): The Gathering Storm

by Mike Dixon

  'When did this happen?'

  'About an hour ago. Bailiff Gallor arrived with a beadle and the sacrist. They demanded to conduct a search of my premises.'

  'On what possible grounds?'

  'The harbouring of felons.'

  Richard put down his pen and replaced the lid on his inkwell.

  'Did they find any?'

  'Of course not. They searched high and low and all they found was a stray dog and a dead pigeon. The sacrist then summoned me to appear before Bradford.'

  'Are you going?'

  'I can hardly refuse. Before I left Salisbury I promised to do everything in my power to smooth relations between the parish and the abbey. It won't look good if I refuse to speak to the abbot-elect.'

  'Is there anything I can do?'

  'I want you to come with me. Bradford will have his advisers. I don't want to turn up without some support of my own.'

  'Who else have you asked?'

  'Harald Gascoigne and John Sprotert. Harald studied law at Oxford and John is well regarded in Salisbury.'

  ***

  William Bradford glared at the four men who stood before him. He sat in the abbot's chair, in his richly decorated chamber, flanked by two monks. Canon Simon stood on his right and a young man with a writing block knelt on his left. William's heavy jowls sagged and his gaze passed back and forth with the gravity of a judge about to pass sentence. After a lengthy silence, he spoke.

  'Master Baret. I summoned you ... and you alone.'

  John Baret inclined his head respectfully. 'I took the liberty to ask these gentlemen to accompany me.'

  'I did not grant that liberty, Master Baret.'

  John produced a sheet of paper and began to read in his usual cumbersome style.

  'My colleagues and I wish to congratulate you, Canon Bradford, on your most praiseworthy election as abbot of this esteemed and ancient Benedictine foundation in our beloved town of Sherborne. We recognise that, as lord abbot and rector of All Hallows, you will be responsible for the pastoral care and good guidance of our community …' John droned on and ended with some words about the rule of law and God's Holy Writ.'

  The speech met with stony silence. Richard Rochell looked down at his writing pad. Harald Gascoigne polished his eyeglasses. William Bradford gestured towards the scribe and eventually spoke.

  'Do you take me for an idiot? You went to Salisbury to vilify my name. Now you are congratulating me on my election.'

  'There has been an unfortunate misunderstanding.'

  'No. There has not.' William thrust a jewelled finger at John Baret.' We understand you only too well. No sooner was my election announced than you set out on a mission of lies and deception. You told the dean I was paying for information.'

  'I went to Salisbury on parish business.'

  'You went to sow discord.'

  'Please.' John raised a calming hand. 'We came here in a spirit of peace and reconciliation. We are as opposed to the subversive elements as you are.'

  'You are not. It is you who is behind these outrages. You travelled to Salisbury with the Welshmen who tried to steal the font. My bailiff recognised them. And, I do not doubt you are behind that font which has so illegally and outrageously appeared in All Hallows.' The jewelled finger shook with rage. 'What is more, Bailiff Gallor identified one of those Welshmen as the villain who has been shooting my pigeons.'

  It was the first John had heard of the pigeons.

  'They've been found with arrows through them and I hold you responsible. It is a most serious offence. You have been interfering with correspondence between your lord abbot and the highest authorities in the land.'

  For a moment John was stunned. There was something appallingly plausible about the accusation. Gareth was famed for his ability to shoot birds from the sky. It didn't take much imagination the guess where the birds came from.

  Harald Gascoigne came to his aid. 'Did I hear the term lord abbot?' He put down his eyeglasses and squinted like a short-sighted scribe seeking confirmation of a trivial point.

  'That is correct,' William Bradford returned his stare.

  'It has been used a lot recently,' Harald muttered as he wrote. 'I'm sure my former colleagues in Westminster would be interested to hear of it.'

  William turned to Canon Simon. 'What's he going on about?'

  'Sir Harald studied law at Oxford before family duties obliged him to return to Dorset,' Simon said.

  'Well. That's as may be,' William grunted. 'I know Sir Harald as one who cavorts with a lady who mixes strange potions, says prayers in strange languages and thinks she has a right to baptise infants, all of which sounds very much like witchcraft to me. Are you saying he has other claims to fame?'

  'Sir Harald worked at Westminster, Father.'

  'I don't care where he worked,' William seemed to miss the point. 'His remark is totally uncalled for.'

  Harald rose slowly to his feet and adjusted the lapels of his gown. He eyed William coldly before continuing.

  'It is a serious offence of lese-majesty to anticipate the sovereign's wishes.'

  'Don't lecture me.'

  'I am not lecturing you, Sir. I am making a point in law.'

  'You are being impertinent.'

  'No, Sir. I am merely stating that you are not yet lord abbot. You will not be lord abbot until His Majesty has seen fit to grant you a licence.'

  'And are you suggesting His Majesty will refuse a licence? That sounds very much like lese-majesty to me.'

  'I recall a case,' Harald said quietly. 'The king's officers were informed that a certain candidate for high office was flaunting his new title before his appointment had received royal approval. There was talk of disbarring him. In the end, it was decided to increase the fee for the licence. If you wish, I could make inquiries to see if such strictures still apply.'

  Canon Simon was on his feet before William could open his mouth.

  'Father Bradford fully accepts the points you are making. There has never been any question of anticipating His Majesty's wishes. The premature use of the term was for the benefit of the less able amongst us. Those who, through no fault of their own, are unable to understand the complexities of appointment to high office.'

  'Will that be your defence in Westminster?'

  'I trust that eventuality will not arise,' Simon nodded in Harald's direction. 'As Master Baret has so rightly observed, it is in our interests to work together and overcome common difficulties.'

  'There is a further point.' Harald's face reddened. 'It is a serious offence to bare false witness. The Lord's Ten Commandments make that very clear. I trust we shall be hearing no more accusations of witchcraft. I am sure that His Majesty would have them investigated and draw conclusions about the suitability for high office of anyone who lightly makes them.'

  He made a short note on his writing block, turned on his heels and left the chamber, followed by his companions.

  ***

  John Tucker leant over the table and surveyed the list of names inscribed on a sheet of paper. His own was there together with four others ... all described as dissidents.

  'Tocker! You don't spell it like that.'

  'That's how they spell it in Salisbury,' Richard reached for the document. 'I just copied it how they wrote it. You should be pleased they didn't make more of a dog's arse of it.'

  They were in the Julian. Richard had just joined them from All Hallows where the vicar had posted a bill, issued by Bishop Neville, announcing a public meeting. Parishioners were invited to voice their grievances. The bishop named certain persons as dissidents and said he would determine what measures should be taken to resolve their differences with the abbey.

  'Why are we listed as dissidents?' John asked.

  'Because you put up that font and paraded round it,' Betty said. 'You didn't make a secret of what you was doing.'

  'What about Jonnie Baret and his lot?'

  'They're helping the bish put things right.'

  'How do you know that
?'

  'Sister Alice told me.'

  Betty pulled Richard's copy of the bill away from the pool of wine that was spreading towards it.

  'Alice said she'd discussed it with the mole. He reckons the bish is none too impressed by Billy Bradford ... thinks he's a bit of a dill.'

  'Alice and the mole are seeing a lot of one another,' John grinned. 'Do you think they're having it off?'

  'Their relationship is purely Platonic,' Betty said.

  'What does that mean?'

  'It means they are not having it off ... they're just good friends.'

  The reply produced a chorus of laughter.

  Richard brought it to a close.

  'We have to decide what we're going to do.'

  Walter Paskuly looked up from his drink.

  'You mean ... do we present ourselves at the inquiry?'

  'Right first time.' Richard slapped him on the back. 'Is there anyone else who would like to add to Master Paskuly's penetrating observation?'

  Thomas Draper raised a hand.

  'What will it involve if we present ourselves?'

  'Not much.' Richard grinned across the table. 'You'll just have to go up to the lord bish and whisper in his ear "I'm a poor shopkeeper. For reasons you'll never understand, I got it into my head to buy a font and erect it in All Hallows so we could baptise babies and cheat you and your mates out of a whole lot of money." '

  'I don't think I'm prepared to do that.' Thomas said. 'There's too many ways they can get back at us.'

  'Quite right.' Richard flicked a crumb at him. 'For the moment, they've got the upper hand. They make the laws and set the taxes. We'd be stupid to meet them head on. We'll send observers and keep well out of it.'

  ***

  Harald scraped a fungus from a fallen branch and placed it in a basket. He wasn't accustomed to manual work and it was a novelty to help Alice collect medicinal herbs. Elsewhere, beneath the trees, servants of the almshouse and the more active residents were helping with the autumn harvest. It was late afternoon and the sun was low in the sky. Alice joined him with a basket of hips that she had gathered from a nearby hedgerow.

  'They are particularly good for combating the chills of winter,' she explained. 'I intend to make an infusion and serve it at meal times.'

  Rose hip tonic was no novelty to Harald but the same could not be said for all the things Alice had in her basket. There was a fungus that he believed to be poisonous and the root of a plant known to him as witches' balm. Alice said the fungus was used to treat certain skin conditions and the root was good for palpitations of the heart.

  Harald didn't doubt her word. His concern was for what others might make of it. Elizabeth Baret had warned Alice about dabbling with potions and muttering prayers in obscure languages. She was even receiving warnings from within the monastery itself. The monk with the lecherous grin had advised her on the need for caution.

  'You said Ralph Knowles told you to be careful?'

  'Ralph said Bradford was furious with the people behind the almshouse charter. He sees it as part of a move to have Sherborne declared a royal borough. That would put an end to his powers,' Alice replied. 'He calls it a Trojan Horse and intends to stop it ... one way is to attack me.'

  Harald placed a fungus in her basket.

  'Did you ask him how he knew?'

  'He said walls have ears.'

  'Do you believe him?'

  'Harald, I know you are suspicious of Ralph because of your feud with his cousin. But you have to understand that he's on your side. He admires you. He was greatly impressed by the way you stood up to William Bradford.'

  The revelation came as a surprise. Harald thought that Ralph regarded him with contempt. It was the fate of all cuckolds.

  'Ralph says he was asked to bear false witness,' Alice said. 'Roger Knowles wanted him to swear on oath that Judith had told him a very intimate secret.'

  'What sort of secret?'

  'That she'd lost her maidenhead to Guy in the hayloft above your stables.

  Harald wondered if Ralph had said it to mock him.

  'Ralph refused,' Alice said.

  'Is that all?'

  'No. His cousin Henry agreed to do it.'

  Harald cast his mind around the extended Knowles family and identified Henry as an unpleasant young man with a predilection for greyhounds and gambling.

  'He looks older but he's only twenty-two,' Alice continued. 'He would have been ten at the very most when this intimate secret was divulged. Ralph thinks you could make a lot out of that in court.'

  'What else has Ralph told you?'

  'He's been speaking with the brothers in the infirmary. They think Bradford might stop me visiting them. There's talk about magic potions and casting spells. It's the sort of thing that happens in a closed community …'

  Harald listened with mounting apprehension. Alice seemed unaware of the seriousness of her situation. She already had a reputation as a free thinker. Now, far more dangerous accusations were being levelled against her.

  He looked at the contents of her basket and wondered if she was collecting them as an act of defiance. The odd-looking roots and fungi might have curative properties but that didn't mean they couldn't be produced as damning evidence in a witchcraft trial.

  She was a strange person but that didn't stop him from loving her. They had a lot in common. Alice had been abandoned by her family and placed in the care of nuns. He had nothing in common with his family and lived with them because he had nowhere else to go.

  He was feeling vulnerable. There was the pending law case against the Knowles family, who were questioning William's right to his mother's dowry, and there was his feud with William Bradford.

  In a fit of anger he had lashed out at William for accusing Alice of witchcraft. For a while he had the man cowered. Bradford felt vulnerable while his election as abbot hung in the balance. But it hadn't lasted. Royal assent had been granted and William was now Abbot of Sherborne with all the rights and privileges that went with that high office.

  William's spies were at work trying to get people to make false witness against Alice and himself. His mother had written to his father in France, saying the family's good name was being called into disrepute. She wanted him to send brother Guy to Sherborne to sort things out. That would make things far worse. Guy had a soldier's way of dealing with problems and it always ended in violence.

  Chapter 14

  Betrayal

  While Richard was praising John Baret for his handling of the bishop, John was on his way to the almshouse with his wife, Elizabeth, and Harald Gascoigne. John had agreed to accompany Harald to the Dorchester assizes and had asked to see the evidence Alice was gathering to refute the Knowles' case.

  The old almshouse consisted of three buildings crammed on a small block. Alice occupied the smallest. It was where she had her infirmary and kept her records. On that cold winter's day, John and his two companions squeezed up the narrow stairs to her room. He found a place to sit with Elizabeth. Harald remained standing.

  The Gascoignes were a tall family, like many members of their class, and ceilings of humble dwellings were rarely high enough for them. Harald crouched in the gap between two beams, removed his eyeglasses from their pouch and peered at the documents laid out for his inspection. While he was occupied, Alice provided a brief summary for Elizabeth's benefit.

  'You will recall that the Gascoigne's insisted on a special clause in the marriage contract. It stipulated that no child of Judith's should inherit if it were born out of wedlock.'

  'And, the Knowles claim that William is a bastard?'

  'They claim he is the son of Harald's younger brother, Guy. If they are to be believed, fourteen-year-old Guy and fifteen-year-old Judith were lovers.'

  'Can they substantiate that?'

  'They have two witnesses. One is their nephew, Henry Knowles. The other is Catherine de Lambert, a relative of mine.'

  'Can we refute them?'

  'I think we can.' Al
ice produced a strip of parchment. 'This is a certified copy of an entry in the baptismal register of Saint Paul's Chapel on the Knowles' estate. It is dated three days before Christmas, in the third year of the reign of Henry the Fifth, and records the baptism of an infant. The names of the parents clearly identify the child as Henry Knowles. There is even mention of him being named in honour of King Henry and his victory at Agincourt.'

  She handed the document to Harald who placed it in a leather folder.

  'The baptismal record shows Henry was six or seven when Harald's former wife, Judith, allegedly told him she lost her maidenhead to Guy. The jurors will be asked to believe that a fifteen-year-old girl would somehow divulge such an intimate secret to a seven-year-old boy.'

  Alice produced another strip of parchment.

  'This refers to the baptism of Catherine de Lambert. Unfortunately, it shows that she was born in the same year as Judith.'

  'Why's that unfortunate?' Elizabeth asked.

  'Judith told Catherine her unborn child was Guy's not Harald's.'

  'How do you know?'

  'Ralph Knowles has been making inquiries.'

  'Who's he?'

  'The monk who's painting the sign for the Julian Inn. He says that Catherine is prepared to testify in court.'

  Harald scrutinised the document.

  'Are you sure the date is correct?'

  'Catherine is only a few years younger than me. I knew her as a girl. She would be about the same age as Judith.'

  'Would she be regarded as a reliable witness?'

  'I remember her as a flighty sort of girl.'

  'So one flighty girl told another flighty girl about her sexual adventures,' Elizabeth smiled. 'My advice is that you dismiss it as girls' talk … something that shouldn't be taken seriously.'

  'That might not be prudent,' Harald cut in.

  'Why's that?'

  'Our case rests on the premise that William is a true and proper heir, incontrovertibly born in wedlock, in accordance with the stringencies specified in the marriage contract. My parents insisted that a clause to that effect be included when the contract was drawn up. Knowing the sexual dalliances of the Knowles family, it seemed a sensible thing to do at the time.'