The walk to South Acre is as beautiful as Charlemain described. The small winding track is now edged with beautiful flowers that sway as we pass. Just in front of us is a large copse of trees and further on is a little wooden bridge, which crosses over the River Nar. As we walk through the dense undergrowth, I become a little frightened, as I can hear creatures scurrying about under the leaves, but luckily it’s not too long until we emerge from beneath the canopy of trees. Once more in the sunshine, we are greeted by field after field of long grass. Each is peppered with pretty blue cornflowers and butterflies that dance from flower to flower. I can hear the bees gently buzzing as they dart around, collecting honey.
“Bethany, is it not as beautiful as I said?”
“Oh yes, Charlemain, it’s quite breathtaking.”
“I know that you will enjoy our visit to South Acre. There is so much to see and do, and the history in these parts is as diverse as anywhere else I have ever known. The very place where we stand now was a burial place many hundreds of years ago and although no one knows why this place was chosen in particular, it could be that the revered burials took place in the barrows and cairns to the west on the higher ground, and those of base parentage were buried down here on the lower ground.”
“Charlemain, I have heard that the monks of Norwich hold a great many rolls relating to this area. I have often thought that I would love to see them. Just to gaze upon the intricately painted illuminations would be a dream come true.”
“Bethany, once this pilgrimage is over, why don’t you write a journal? Many noble women do so. I have heard that it’s very fashionable nowadays.”
“But Charlemain, I am not a noblewoman.”
To this, Charlemain makes no comment and walks on. Little does he know that I have been thinking along the same lines. A journal is an excellent idea!
Charlemain continues enthusiastically, “Over there, by that large copse of trees, a magnificent fair is held each year on the Feast of St Bartholomew. Sellers from all over the country flock here to sell their goods. The fair raises much-needed funds for the poor souls of the local leper hospital.”
I ponder on those pour souls. How awful it must be to be afflicted in such a terrible way. Then, even worse, to be shunned by society. Charlemain appears to read my mind.
“Yes, leprosy is a vile disease, but those who are afflicted must be isolated as it’s highly infectious.”
“I wonder, Charlemain, do you think that the monks are afforded protection from the disease by God?”
“Indeed, they must be, as it’s rare for them to catch it.”
Soon after crossing the River Nar, we reach the most handsome range of buildings that I have ever seen in my life. They are surrounded by a moat, which is even grander than the one at Bodney.
Charlemain proudly announces, “We are now officially in the manor of the Harsyck family. Have you heard of them?”
“No, I don’t think that I have ever heard of that name.”
“Well, they’re an ancient family who have served this country since the time of glorious King Edward III – first as sheriffs of the county and then, much later, as trusted retainers in the retinue of King Henry V. Sir Roger Harsyck, who was the bravest of soldiers, served across the sea in France many times.” Thoughts of Agincourt come to mind, as does good Duke Humphrey. “Today, we are going to observe prayers in the Harsyck’s private chapel. The chapel is dedicated to the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin and is very fine indeed. It was built when the Harsycks became the local sheriffs and it’s a great privilege to be invited inside, especially for the saying of prayers. Prayers are usually offered up for the locals and pilgrims alike in the parish church of St George. St George’s is a most beautiful building in its own right. I’ll take you there before we leave. It houses a sturdy Norman font, a finely carved rood screen, an unknown wooden effigy and a newly commissioned stained-glass window in the western wall. This sits above an effigy of Sir Eudo Harsyck, who lies atop a stone slab coffin. Sir Eudo was a member of the Knights Templar and he fought in the Crusades.”
As we pass the church of St George, I notice that it stands proud. The old and new parts of the building complement each other perfectly. The north face is a vision of older grandeur, while the south face is newer, with freshly carved stone. No doubt it will begin to mellow in a few years and they will blend together perfectly.
Charlemain, noticing that my eyes rest on the tower, continues to tell me that the church houses a full-size brass of Sir John Harsyck and his wife, Katherine. “They are portrayed holding hands – something they will do for evermore. It would seem that they wanted everyone to know they loved each other so much that their love could never be broken, not even by death.” With this, Charlemain goes silent for a moment. “Sadly, there is another effigy being carved at the moment, but I’ll tell you about that later.”
As we near the manor house, Pip takes the lead. He obviously knows the Harsyck retainers extremely well, for they embrace him as a long-lost brother. Once over the moat, I notice how the buildings have been arranged into two long lines with an entrance building joining them. Above the entrance, the family crest is carved into the stone. It consists of a plume of feathers, sitting within a hoop, attached to a helm. I am certain that I have seen this crest somewhere before, but I just cannot place it. To the left is an oriel window and to the right is the chapel. Behind me, I can see a kitchen block with smoke billowing from its roof, a collection of wooden sheds and a fine stable block. I am beginning to suspect that the Harsyck family may be the leaders of fashion in this area.
A nearby commotion wakes me and we all turn around to look. About ten paces away, a group of kitchen staff are crowding around the well.
“I told you, didn’t I”?
“Yeah, Walter, that you did.”
Our suspicions raised, we join the staff. A large man steps forward and bows low. “Please, I beg your pardon. We are overly animated I know, but one of our number, the cook’s new assistant, young Hal, has infuriated us all. He is always playing practical jokes, but this time he’s gone way too far. Earlier this morning, he took some of Jack’s tools. Not stolen, you see, just taken – to play a jape on him. Jack has now fallen behind with his work and is rightly furious. To make matters worse, Hal, in a state of panic, has thrown them down the well. Luckily, the cook observed the incident, so the tools can be retrieved, but I fear that poor Hal will pay a heavy price for his mischief this time.”
Charlemain nods before taking my arm and leading me away towards the chapel.
“Oh dear… what do you think Hal’s punishment will be?”
“I dread to think. Probably a stint of hard labour, but maybe that’s what he needs. Perhaps turning a spit for hours on end over the hottest fire will make him think twice in future.”
The chapel is cool and refreshing. Its walls are painted a very pale-blue and stencilled with white roses and golden feathers. Each wooden seat is capped with an embroidered cushion, the design mirroring that on the walls. Charlemain leads me towards the front and bids that I am seated to the right of the altar. The seats on the left are obviously reserved for the Harsyck family as they are intricately carved and have cushions portraying their crest. After a few minutes, two women and a man enter. We immediately stand out of respect. They walk towards us at quite a pace. The elder woman is wearing a dark-grey kirtle and a thick grey veil. Her skin is the palest that I have ever seen and her eyes are bright red. Realising this to be Lady Harsyck, I bow my head and curtsey as low as possible.
“Welcome to my home, Mistress Bethany.”
Shocked at such recognition, words stumble from my mouth. “Thank you, Lady Harsyck.”
“I see your shock, Bethany. You wonder how I know your name?” With this, a smile crosses her face and she indicates that I should sit down beside her. Leaving Charlemain, I sit to Lady Harsyck’s left. “I have heard good things about you from a very reliable source. I know that you are loyal and extremely trustworthy, and that you hold confidences and are faithful.”
“Sorry, mistress, but I am confused. I do not understand; how do you know so much about me?”
Lady Harsyck’s focus shifts over my shoulder to Pip and Alard, who are now entering the chapel, kneeling as they do so to make the sign of the cross. “I know all this, my dear, as you are my son’s friend.”
Lady Harsyck’s eyes suddenly grow moist as she beams with pride. Still confused, my eyes dart back and forth between Pip and Alard. Again, noticing my confusion, Lady Harsyck lays her hand upon my arm, before Pip approaches and embraces his mother. I smile with delight!
Everyone is seated before prayers begin. Lady Harsyck’s attendants take their places alongside Charlemain, while Pip sits between his mother and myself. Still reeling from the shock, I find it hard to regain my focus, so I decide to concentrate on the family priest who has just entered the chapel from behind the altar. He is a rather rotund man with pink chubby cheeks. I know that my thoughts are a little unkind, but I am surprised to see that he can squeeze through such a small door. All of a sudden, the chapel has become warm from the heat of the bodies. I feel safe and secure. Prayers begin by remembering Sir Roger.
“Holy Father, we humbly remember before you Sir Roger Harsyck, our liege lord, a most generous and admirable man. A dearly loved husband and father. One who gave his life in service of our country. A man of honour and loyalty. Let us in Your mercy light candles in remembrance of him.”
Calling us forward one by one, we are all invited to attend the altar. Lady Harsyck, assisted by Pip, is the first to do so, then Charlemain and each of us in turn. The heat from the candles intensifies the heat in the chapel further and I feel beads of sweat form on my brow. Embarrassed, I dab them away with a piece of linen that I keep up my sleeve. The service ends with the priest bowing first to the altar, then to a statute of the Blessed Virgin and finally to Lady Harsyck.
“Thank you, Father. We would be most grateful if you would join us in the hall, where we will dine early.”
“I am most honoured, Lady Harsyck, thank you.”
“Bethany, I would like you to join us, too.”
Once again, the shock returns. A worried Lady Harsyck takes both of my hands.
“Why, Bethany, you look troubled. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Lady Harsyck, nothing’s wrong. Please forgive me. I am just wondering if Charlemain and the rest of our party are also invited. I should not like to leave them.”
“Of course Charlemain and the rest of your party are invited.” Then, she pauses before wiping away her tears and replacing them with a smile. “Charlemain, my dear brother, has his own seat in the hall. Did no one tell you we are related? You must forgive my family. They are terribly forgetful and rather shy at introducing who they are. The only one who ever advanced himself was my husband.”
The hall is dominated by a long slender oak table, darkened by many years of use. It has been finely decorated with a pale-blue linen runner, which is embroidered with the same white roses and golden feathers as the cushions in the church. Each place has been set with a pewter plate and an elaborately enamelled glass. At the head of the table, beneath a canopy of pale-blue silk, sit two large chairs. The canopy is very elaborate and edged with golden tassels. Unlike other halls that I have visited, each person has their own wooden chair and there are no benches in sight. Before we are seated, Lady Harsyck takes her place. She is accompanied by Pip. Father Robert sits immediately to Pip’s left and Charlemain takes his seat next to Lady Harsyck. Charlemain beckons for me to join him, while Alard, Davy, Owain and Ned all take their seats alongside the other household retainers.
Charlemain is the first to speak, but in very hushed tones. “Bethany, I do hope that you can forgive me for not mentioning my family connections. I do not like to boast. I longed to mention it at West Acre, but Pip asked me not to. He was worried that it would change our friendship. He’s a proud lad, you see. Kind and loyal. You’ll never find another so passionate and protective. He’s a superb soldier, too, and he’s never been beaten in combat, but he’s rather shy and unassuming at the same time. He’s not one to push himself or his family forward. I understand that our lord also requested that no one was told of the family ties until we arrived at South Acre. He feared that if this information was overheard, we would become targets for abduction or maybe worse. Recently, my dearest brother-in-law, Roger, died in France. Killed by an enemy, but not a French one. He died at the hands of the Duke of Somerset.”
My head begins to spin as I think of the treachery, so much so that I am glad to be distracted from my thoughts by a petite lady of a very great age, who is approaching us with a large jug of wine.
Charlemain smiles. “Thank you, Lily. Once you’ve finished serving everyone, please take your seat and enjoy your meal with the rest of us. By the way, where is Arthur?”
“As we have guests today, he’s helping John serve the food. It reminds him of his youth and it gives him the chance to dress up. He enjoys passing on the customs he learnt in his youth.”
“Very well. I just didn’t want him missing out.”
Realising that everyone is seated, Pip stands and strides purposefully towards the far end of the hall. Disappearing through the door on the left, he reappears a short while later through the door on the right. This time, he is accompanied by two men – one young and the other ancient. I think that the ancient one must be Arthur. He’s dressed in a fine brown linen tabard and bright yellow hose. Across his left forearm is draped a piece of snow-white linen. His face displays a look of pride. Leaving them, Pip returns to his seat and requests that Father Robert says grace.
“Of course, my Lord. Without Thy presence, nought, O Lord, is sweet. No pleasure to our lips can ought supply. Whether ’tis wine we drink or food we eat. Till grace divine and faith shall sanctify. We ask for your dearest blessings.”
At the end, Lady Harsyck stands. “Thank you, Father. Now, before we begin, I have an announcement to make. This feast, although small and intimate, is of great importance. Befitting of Pip’s personality, I thought that he would appreciate a fine meal shared by his close family and friends. A large impersonal gathering would not suit him at all.”
Pip nods and smiles before Lady Harsyck begins once more.
“Since the death of my dearest husband, I have been in consultation with our lawyers, planning for the next stage of my life. I am sure that you will all be relieved to know that I have no plans to remarry. I have no need of money and I require no protection. I have been blessed with an amazing son and our lord is most generous.”
Pausing to wipe her eyes with a silk handkerchief and to look at Pip, she takes a deep breath before continuing, “My plans are really quite simple. I will continue to live here and everything will remain the same. No one should worry about anything. Pip is very happy with his life and he wishes to remain active in the service of our lord. His dedication knows no bounds; even at this most dangerous time, when war looms, he still wishes to serve. To this, I wholeheartedly agree. Although, as a mother, I fear for his safety, but I am aware that we must all do our bit. His career is progressing nicely and he reminds me so much of his father.” Looking around the room, I can see a mixture of relief, tears and smiles. “Now, I must be formal for a while. Pip, please stand.”
Standing shoulder to shoulder, the look of unconditional love between Pip and his mother is undeniable.
“Philip Harsyck of South Acre, I am extremely proud to announce to one and all that, as heir to Sir Roger, you are now the lord of this manor.”
Immediately, a great roar erupts, which is accompanied by thunderous clapping. Pip’s eyes meet mine and I can see immediately how uncomfortable he is. He looks sad and hesitant, but slowly he finds his voice. “All I can say to such a rapturous reception is that I promise to be a good lord, to care for you all, protect you all and continue to serve our lord and patron, Richard Duke of York.”
Charlemain, noticing Pip’s deep embarrassment, nods towards the back wall where Arthur is waiting for his orders. Standing, Charlemain announces that it’s now time to eat.
“Arthur, if you would be so kind, I would like you to start serving, but first, please can I ask everyone to stand and raise their glass to the new Lord Harsyck?”
Another hurrah sounds.
After the toast, Arthur ushers in four kitchen maids. They are all carrying great platters of food. Today, there will be no distinction – everyone will eat the same. I notice how Lily refills the wine glasses before the cook, who is wearing a clean apron, joins the celebrations. Charlemain, noticing that Hal is missing, asks of his whereabouts.
The cook replies with a cheeky grin, “Oh, he’s on his way,” before bellowing out, “Come on, lad… don’t keep us all waiting. We haven’t got all day.”
The door slowly opens and Hal enters the hall, wearing a particoloured outfit and a jester’s hat. He has bells tied to his legs, arms and neck. Oh, how we all roar with laughter as he walks into the hall. What a sight to see!
“That’ll serve you right, my boy. If you keep playing tricks on people, you’ll stay in those clothes forever and a day, and always be seen as a fool. Now, sit, eat, drink and be merry.”
Hal, who has quickly regained his sense of humour, begins to prance around. He leaps high in the air, before quickly spinning around and around. Seizing his opportunity, he cheekily kisses each lady on the cheek before sitting down.
“Oh, dear,” says the cook. “This may have backfired.”
Laughter sets the tone for the rest of the celebrations.
A smiling Pip leans forward. “Are you having a good time, Bethany?”
“Oh yes, Pip. What an amazing celebration.”
Immediately, I put my hand to my mouth.
Pip looks concerned. “Bethany, what’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry. I should not address you like that now.”
“Oh yes, you should. My title will only be used for necessary formalities, not by my close friends and family. Nothing must change between us.”
Relief floods over me as I realise just how much Pip means to me.
The feasting lasts long into the evening with music, singing and dancing. Ned, always one for a party, is now free to play to his heart’s content, while Owain recites stories of valiant battles. Hal, loving his new role, is also taking every opportunity to entertain. Alas, such joy cannot last forever and as darkness falls, the festivities begins to draw to a close. After everything has been cleared away the household retainers take up their nightly positions. I watch as they settle down for the night. This leads me to wonder where I can curl up to sleep. Pip, reading my mind, once more takes my hand.
“Oh no you don’t, you’re not sleeping in the hall. You’re coming with me.” Pip stoops to pick up my satchel. “Mother has had the main guest chamber prepared for you.”
I gasp in amazement. “No, Pip, really, I’m perfectly happy to sleep in the hall with the others.”
“We know you are, but, as a trusted family friend, it’s only right that you have your privacy.”
Realising that it’s folly to argue with Pip, I follow behind as he leads me up a winding stone staircase. When we reach the first level, we leave the stairs and pass through an elaborately carved stone archway before passing through a narrow corridor. On our right, there are doors leading to the bedchambers, while on our left there are openings that look down onto the hall. We are nearly at the end of the corridor before Pip comes to a halt.
“This is your room. I hope you like it.” By the beaming smile on his face, I imagine that he knows what my reaction will be when the door is opened. Pip steps aside. “Here you go.”
As I open the door, I immediately lose my breath. After what seems an age, I begin to take it all in. “Oh, Pip, it’s the most beautiful room I have ever seen in my whole life.”
“I’m so glad you like it. Mother will be overjoyed when I tell her in the morning. Now, goodnight, Bethany. Sleep well and I will see you in the morning. If you wake early, you are very welcome to go for a walk in the inner bailey. You are safe here.”
As we gaze into each other’s eyes, I feel a connection like never before. In my mind, I ask myself: why does this moment ever have to end?
The room is exquisite and incredibly hard to describe. In truth, I do not know where to begin. I will start by describing the walls. They are painted a vibrant shade of red. Some have gold feathers stencilled onto them, while others have the family crest. In the middle of the room, there is a large four-poster bed with rich velvet hangings. The beams above are decorated with gold leaf and there is a fireplace set against the outside wall. Its beauty is overwhelming. On closer inspection, I realise that the fireplace is surrounded by small green and blue glazed tiles, some of which have the family crest embedded into them. I turn to the window to inspect a small writing desk and a large wooden chest. Both are painted a myriad of colours and both glisten in the candlelight.
I notice a curtain in the farthest corner of the room. I walk over and draw it aside. To my delight, there is a private garderobe, a bowl of steaming hot water and some linen wipes. Keen to make the most of this experience, I remove my cloak and set my satchel down on the floor next to the chest. Even though I am tired, I wash my hair and sit by the fire until it dries. I watch as the flames dance gently. Memories of my mother flood over me, as this is something that we always did together. Before retiring, I change into a clean linen under-kirtle that has been left out for me. The cold linen makes my skin tingle. Even though I am safe, I cannot break the habit of sleeping with my satchel. I place it carefully beneath the sheets, before gently kicking it to the bottom of the bed.
***
Morning begins with a knock at my door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Lily, mistress.”
“Oh, please come in, Lily.”
“Good morning, mistress, I trust you had a good night’s sleep?”
“Oh yes, I slept like a log.”
“Well, that’s music to my ears. I always worry that I’ve forgotten something. I’ve just come to let you know that it will soon be time to break your fast in the hall. A bell will ring shortly, announcing that the food is about to be served.”
Lily smiles as she turns, before closing the door. When the bell rings, I throw back the covers and retrieve my satchel. I know that we are safe here, but I would still prefer to take it with me. Dressing quickly, I leave and make my way to the hall. The first person I meet is Charlemain.
“Good morning, Bethany. Did you sleep well?”
“Oh yes, Charlemain, I had a splendid night. Did you?”
“Indeed, it was lovely to sleep in my own bed for once. I fear that I’m getting too old for all this travelling, but never mind that. It’s time to break our fast and, let me tell you, our cook always does us proud.”
The hall looks magnificent once more. Every inch of the long slender table has been dressed in fresh white linen, which drapes down to the floor. Bunches of white roses and blue cornflowers now line the length of the table and each windowsill. The door arches have been decorated with yet more white roses and blue cornflowers, all of which have been tied together with gold and silver ribbons. The enamelled wine glasses are now joined by small individual pewter plates.
“Shall we take our seats, Bethany?”
As we pass, I gaze at the vast array of breads that have been prepared. I notice that all of the crusts have been removed to make them easier to eat. Next, there’s a platter of roast meat, which has been decorated with saffron and madder jellies before a plate of salt eggs and a variety of cheeses. Some of the cheeses are soft, while others are hard, but the most succulent-looking has delicate blue veins running all the way through it. Pip is the last to enter the hall. He appears refreshed and ready for a new day. Once settled, he turns to Charlemain.
“Uncle, would you like to lead? Alas, Mother is not up to joining us this morning.”
“Of course, Pip. Let’s get started.”
Charlemain nods towards the back of the hall in Arthur’s direction and he approaches enthusiastically. Stopping directly in front of Pip, he bows as low as his old bones allow.
“Lord Harsyck, how can I be of service to you?”
“Arthur, please can I have a bowl of oats cooked in milk and topped with honey?”
Arthur, having anticipated the answer, holds his hands aloft and taps the floor with his foot. Without hesitation, the kitchen door opens and John enters, carrying a bowl, which he places on the table next to Arthur. Arthur then picks up the bowl and places it before Pip.
“Mistress Lily will be so happy that you asked for your childhood favourite.”
“Well, Arthur, no one can cook it in the same way as Lily does.”
Arthur now turns to me. “Mistress Bethany, what would you like?”
After thinking for a moment, I request a slice of thick white bread with some ham and a spoonful of saffron jelly.
Arthur calls forward an elderly maid. “Alice, please would you be so kind as to get Mistress Bethany’s breakfast for her?” It seems a little weird to be served by someone of such a great age, but I can see that Alice is pleased to serve.
Before turning to Charlemain, Arthur seems to remember something. “Mistress, please forgive me, but I completely forgot to say that Lady Harsyck would be most grateful if you would join her in the solar once you have eaten. She asks that you do not rush. Just finish you breakfast and then call for me when you are ready and I will take you.”
By the time my food arrives, Pip has finished his bowl of oats and is ordering a large plate of everything. Leaning over, he explains, “There’s nothing to worry about, Bethany. In fact, very far from it. Since my father’s death, my mother has been withdrawn. Her maids are constantly worried, as is Father Robert, but since your arrival, she appears much lighter. Our visit has given her something to think about. When I was a child, my parents would love to entertain a great deal and I think that last night did her the world of good.”
After breaking my fast, I am ready to visit Lady Harsyck. “Charlemain, please can you help me? How do I call for Arthur? I’m ready to visit Lady Harsyck now.”
“Don’t worry, Bethany, I will call Arthur for you and he will take you to the solar.”
The solar is yet another magnificent room. Bright and airy with velvet drapes and sunshine pouring in through the large window. As I enter, Lady Harsyck rises from her window seat to greet me. Her outstretched arms fill me with joy.
“Thank you for agreeing to sit with me, Bethany. Did you enjoy your breakfast?”
“Oh yes, I had bread, ham and saffron jelly.”
“Next time, you must try some of Lily’s hot oats. They’re Pip’s favourite, you know, but I forget myself. Let’s sit and be comfortable.”
With this, Lady Harsyck points to two plump cushions. As we sit, side by side, tears begin to roll down Lady Harsyck’s face once more.
“Oh, Bethany, please forgive me, but this is the worst time of the day for me. When my dear husband was alive, we would always sit together and welcome in the day. We would plan what needed to be done and then allocate the tasks. We’ve never been distant from our household; in fact, we have always taken pride in our closeness to everyone. We’re more like a big family. After allocating the tasks, we would always potter in the garden. Oh, how we loved to change things around. We would mirror the latest fashions from France or Flanders. Then, we would plan with the gardeners how to rotate the crops to make sure that there was always plenty of fresh food to go around. We would often laugh and say that we had enough food to withhold a siege for months on end. Now there is no laughter and I am mostly on my own. I am blessed, though; Jack and Walter help me with the garden and we never go without. However, no one can help ease my heart. I sit here for hours on end and worry every day about the impending war. It’s bad enough losing my husband, but I could never bear to lose any of my children. That would be too much to bear. I would have nothing to live for. I would die.”
Gently, I take hold of Lady Harsyck’s hand and we sit in peace. Lady Harsyck looks tired and drawn and my heart breaks for her.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, I ask, “What is your favourite task now?”
This was very clearly the right thing to ask. “Oh, I love to weed around the flowers. I find it very satisfying. When I’m finished, everything is neat and orderly. I can lose myself for hours on end. Bethany, please let me show you.”
Within seconds, we are on our feet and heading out in the direction of the walled garden. When we arrive, Lady Harsyck knocks on the door and it opens promptly. Inside, I am greeted by immaculate hedges and raised flower beds, all of which are overflowing with flowers. Various scents waft gently on the breeze. I notice that in the farthest corner there is an arbour, covered with pink honeysuckle.
“Shall we go and sit? I want to enjoy your company for a little longer. I dread you all leaving, as I will be on my own once more.”
A thought pops into my head. “Lady Harsyck, why don’t you join us on our pilgrimage?”
She smiles for a moment, before speaking, “Alas, I cannot. I must stay here and play my part. I must prepare for war. This house is to be used as a safe refuge. It must be kept in readiness at all times.”
We sit silently, drinking in the beauty of the day until Pip arrives. Without speaking, we both look at each other and know that it’s time for me to go. Kneeling, Pip takes his mother’s hand.
“Please forgive me, but we need to leave. I have some urgent business to attend to at Castle Acre.”
With sad eyes, Lady Harsyck nods. “Very well, I knew this time would come. It has been wonderful having you at home, even for such a short while. You are my world and you mean everything to me. Take care and come home safely.”
“Of that you can be assured, Mother dear.” Pip kisses her hand and rises, before addressing me, “The others are ready and waiting. Have you got everything, Bethany?”
“Oh yes, I’m packed and ready.”
“We must be off then.”
Before we leave, I turn and face Lady Harsyck. “Thank you so much for my stay. I’ve had a wonderful time and I will miss you so much.”
“I will miss you, too, Bethany. Now, remember, you’re always welcome here. Should you ever wish to stay, there’s no need to let me know, just turn up.”
To hide my tears, I bow my head and check my satchel. After a moment, the tears stop and we walk away. Pip, obviously sad at departing, draws his hood firmly over his head and retreats into his own world. We wave one last time before walking on purposefully towards Castle Acre.
In just a short while, we are treated to our first view of the east end of the Cluniac Priory of Castle Acre. It rises dramatically above the town walls. Even from this distance, the stone looks to be of an excellent quality and not dissimilar to that of Ely Cathedral. The leaded windows glint in the mid-morning sun, while panes of coloured glass tantalise the senses.
Charlemain, having regained his composure, breaks the silence that has followed us ever since leaving. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Why yes, but I never expected the priory to be so grand. Please do tell me some of its history.”
“Well, to tell the history of the priory, I need to tell the story of the De Warrenne family, and to do so, I must wait until we arrive.”
With my mind pleasantly imagining the joys to come, we continue along the grassy path until we come to a ford. The area around the ford is very beautiful. Rushes bend this way and that in the gentle breeze, while butterflies and small birds dance from stem to stem. The water is crystal clear. So much so that I can see bright-green mosses and tiny fishes. Before I know it, a bright-blue flash passes before my eyes. Charlemain, seeing me wobble, chuckles out loud as he extends a hand to steady me.
“Ah… we are blessed today. Did you see that flash, Bethany? That was a very rare bird indeed and one that rarely comes inland. It’s known by three names. Firstly, the kingfisher; secondly, the halcyon; and thirdly, the sea foam. It’s a sight to behold with its magnificent blue and green plumage.”
I smile with excitement and scour the area for another flash. Alard, not caring for the bird, is preoccupied.
“It’s not just the kingfisher that moves fast, Charlemain. I hear that the River Nar is swollen further upstream. Some say that it is twice as deep as normal.” Scratching his head, he continues, “Pip, I’m concerned. We have two options that I can think off. We can either walk through it as normal or we can turn around and take the long way.”
To this, Owain gasps. “Can’t we just walk through the water? Then we’ll have plenty of time in Castle Acre.”
Alard, sensing an alternative motive, turns to me. “Bethany, what would you prefer to do?”
I think for a few moments. “Well, I’m happy to take a risk. My feet are still sore and the water may help to soften them.”
Alard nods and we all walk on. Crossing the ford, however, is much harder than I anticipated. The water tugs at my legs relentlessly and I’m surprised by just how much energy I need to stand up. Luckily, I am surrounded by strong men who can help me. Owain, being the closest, realises that I’m struggling and offers to help.
“Bethany, please, let me help you.” Standing by my side, he plants his feet slightly apart. “Ready. One, two, three.”
Then, with one sharp tug, I lurch towards the opposite bank and dry land. Once we are all safely across, Owain takes up the lead with all the enthusiasm of a child, before Pip clasps a hand upon his shoulder.
“Owain, we must report to the priory at once and settle ourselves in. They are expecting us.”
I can see that this is not something that Owain wants to do and that he is a little frustrated. I wonder why? He’s usually so happy.
We are welcomed at the priory by an extremely cheerful brother, who introduces himself as Roger.
“Welcome, friends. I hope that you enjoyed your short walk from South Acre. At this time of the year, there’s so much to see. Wildlife abounds and the river is full of fish. Speaking about the river, I was not entirely sure that you would be able to cross the ford today. It can be quite difficult when the Nar is flooded. In fact, the rising water is playing havoc with everything around here, especially our outbuildings.” With this, he points towards a stone building in the distance. “You see that building over there? Well, that’s where the washing is done. The only trouble is that when the river is high, the dirty water has nowhere to go, so it comes directly back into the room. Brother Johnson, who is prone to complaining at the best of times, has not stopped moaning for days.”
I suspect that this situation amuses Brother Roger, as he tries but fails to suppress a huge smile. Pip, stepping forward, embraces Brother Roger in an affectionate way. Both appear very emotional.
“Oh, Roger, it’s been such a long time. Are you well? I had not expected you to be on door duty. Is everything alright?”
“Oh yes… well, no, not really. Things haven’t been too good here since our father died. Brother Mark is constantly biting my head off and making me do the most menial tasks. He takes pleasure in embarrassing me. He is convinced that now you have been acknowledged as the new Lord Harsyck, you will pay for my advancement over his.”
“Why, that’s rubbish. You joined the church of your own free will. You sought the life of service and contemplation. You didn’t join to become an abbot, even though you would make a very fine one.”
“Every word that you say is true.”
Pip’s face darkens. “Well, if Brother Mark wishes to make an enemy of me, he has succeeded. I will not stand by and see you treated in this way. I do not like bullies.”
“Oh, Pip, no one could wish for a better brother than you. You have always looked after me, but please try not to worry. I’m sure that you have more than enough on your plate at the moment. Overall, I’m very happy. I enjoy my life and Father Abbot has given permission that I can visit mother whenever I have any free time. I’m sure that things will improve.”
“No, Roger, this situation is not right. I have always respected your calling, even if I do not understand it, but I will not stand by and let this situation carry on. You would be far better off at home, looking after mother. You have skills that others do not readily possess and people respect your judgement. The manor needs your steady hand. Please think about it for my sake. I have no alternative as lord of the manor and I cannot change my lifestyle. I am, and have always been, a soldier. Nowadays, Prince Richard needs me more than ever and I will not desert him.”
“I can see that it makes sense, but I need time to think. When you return from Walsingham, I will let you know my decision. Just please don’t mention it to mother, as she will get overexcited and put pressure on me to return home. This is something I need to do for myself. If I decide to go back, it will be a huge change to my lifestyle and I need to make sure that I can handle the pressures of outside life once more.”
With a nod, Pip agrees to his side of the bargain.
The ensuing silence is broken by a very enthusiastic Owain. “Hello, Roger. Oh, come on, Pip. Let’s get settled into our lodgings.”
Pip’s face becomes increasingly hard to read. “Yes, let’s make a move, but, Owain, I want to be very clear. I know what you’re planning. It’s plastered all over your face, but remember that you are my man and that I’m now the lord of this manor. You must be above suspicion at all time. Your actions must be true and honourable. I’m aware of the dicing and the gaming that takes place in the back room of the Speckled Lamb. So, listen to me when I tell you that I strictly forbid you going anywhere near that place. Father was tolerant, but me, not so. I really don’t want such an inn on my land and I intend on closing it down later today. However, this information is strictly confidential for the moment and you must mention it to no one. I’m going to see the landlord before we leave for Walsingham. No doubt he will plead poverty and beg me to change my mind, but my decision is final. I’m also going to demand that he leaves the manor immediately. I have arranged work and accommodation for him in London, in the hope that I can keep a better eye on him.
“One of my spies has been observing the inn for almost six months now and has reported that the landlord seems to be acquiring a great deal of money. This concerns me greatly, as I have also heard that since my father died, he has changed allegiances. He has plans to make the inn a safe house for supporters of our queen. I will not allow this to happen under any circumstances. I will crush him before he has the chance to destroy us. He thinks that he has been clever. He thinks that I do not know of his plans, but I do. He has been seen smuggling people in and out of the quayside at night. I am determined to stop this immediately. Therefore, I have ordered that the quaymen are to work both day and night. They will take it in shifts to keep a lookout. They are to check every piece of paperwork thoroughly and if they have any suspicions at all, travellers are to be refused entry. I have also requested that loyal men are to be stationed along the entire length of the riverbank to make sure that no one attempts to come ashore further upstream. In addition, I have ordered that all groups of pilgrims are to travel via the main roads. I fear that groups of pilgrims can be infiltrated far too easily. They are still to be welcomed, but everyone must be visible at all times. Old Jack will take over the inn. His wife will provide good food and clean lodgings. Later today, I will also give the orders to dismantle the quay. I can also see no need for it. We have no market and the castle has fallen into ruins, so it makes sense all round.”
Owain, now embarrassed by his plans, appears sheepish, although it only takes a few seconds for his smile to return. “I hear what you say and I will obey, but it’s such a shame that I could not visit one last time. Ned and I could go and see how the land lies.”
Pip, halfway between consternation and frustration, reluctantly agrees. “Alright, but just once, mind you. I trust you both implicitly. I always have and I always will, but you are not allowed to game. By all means partake of the ale one last time and keep an eye out. All I ask is that you gather as much information as possible and report back to me before nightfall. Be careful, though. Do not ask any questions. Just note what’s happening and keep alert at all times.”
Owain and Ned smile and bow respectfully to Pip. We turn and begin to walk, but before we can progress in the direction of the priory, a figure dressed all in black comes into view. He is marching at top speed, diagonally across the field, in our direction. His face is contorted with anger and his eyes are flashing with unconcealed rage. Ignoring us, he immediately launches into a blistering attack on Brother Roger.
“Can you not be trusted with even the simplest of tasks?” The severity of his words and the excruciating embarrassment is far too much for Brother Roger to bear. Tears immediately erupt from his eyes and pour down his face. “Brother, stop that now. You are weak and I will not tolerate such weakness.”
Before Roger can draw breath, Pip explodes with anger. Stepping out from behind Owain and Ned, the man in black, who I presume is Brother Mark, freezes in terror. From the look on his face, it is clear that he did not see Pip before.
“Why, Lord Harsyck, please accept my apologies, but I did not see you there, otherwise I would have greeted you sooner.”
Pip’s face, now purple with rage, scowls. Ignoring Brother Mark, he turns and nods to us as a whole. “Come, we will proceed. Roger, please can you convey us as planned to our lodgings?”
Walking away, we leave Brother Mark alone, shaking. Our route to the lodgings is a pleasant one. Charlemain, keen to regain normality, points out the fish ponds and the vegetable beds as we pass. As we approach, I can see the stone arches of the washing building more clearly. It seems that the washing duties have been moved outside due to the flood, as brothers dance merrily in half-barrels filled with water. They appear to be pummelling the contents from one side to the other.
A laughing Charlemain asks, “Bethany, have you ever seen such a sight before?”
“No, never, but I have washed linen this way myself. When my mother was alive, she taught me how to use hot water, urine and ash to get the linen white. It was a rather smelly task and it made my feet sore, but it worked.”
“Yes, it’s not the most pleasant thing to do, but the ones in the tubs have it far easier than those who rinse it, don’t you agree?”
To this, I look sympathetically at the brothers, who are standing in the water, some up to their waists, rinsing the linen.
“Alas, when the river is swollen, there is no other way. Thank the Lord it’s not winter.”
In the distance, we can hear the priory bell calling the faithful to pray. Momentarily, we stand aside to make way for the brothers of the wash house. Looking over my shoulder, I can see that Brother Mark has caught up with us.
“Brother Roger, come, you are to accompany me.”
Pip, still furious, turns in confrontation. “No, Roger, you will not be joining the others at prayer today. You are to remain with us. I need your assistance. Please deliver us to our lodgings.”
No further words are required and Brother Mark leaves of his own accord. The priory’s lodgings are on the south side of the complex and, as such, they are bathed in the midday sun. Two storeys high, with newly carved stone mouldings, they appear very fine. At ground level, there are two small windows, while, above, stands one large window that dominates the entire wall. Each window has been glazed with a mixture of blue and green glass, before being finished off with a fine stone moulding. Gargoyles grimace down grotesquely at those standing below. Amusingly, one appears to have been carved in the image of Brother Mark!
In my mind’s eye, I imagine Father Prior standing stately by the window, surveying the comings and goings of the grand north gate. I do not have to imagine him for very long, as Father Prior appears from a nearby doorway.
“Welcome, everyone, welcome. I am so glad to see you. Refreshments are waiting for you. Please come in.” Then, without any warning, he lurches forward and hugs Pip enthusiastically before quickly moving backwards. “Please forgive me. I am too familiar. I forget myself and, in particular, Pip’s new title, but it’s hard to change the habits of a lifetime. I have known Pip for many years, you see. In my past life, I was a professional soldier. I have fought alongside both him and his father. Now though, he’s the lord of the manor and I have to remember myself.”
Pip beams. “Father Prior, there’s absolutely no need to ask for forgiveness. In fact, I am the one who should be thanking you. I am heartened that you treat me in the same way as usual. Nowadays, with this title around my neck, it can be hard to distinguish true friends. People speak such fine words, but I find myself doubting their hearts. Whereas with you, I have no such worries. Speaking of doubts, I need to speak to you about Brother Mark.”
“Yes, I thought that you might. I, too, have my doubts about him. Recently, I have noticed a change in him. He has begun to harbour grudges. In truth, I am thinking of sending him on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. A spell of hardship will do him no harm. The rough seas and the flea-ridden ships will make him grateful for his life here.”
A thoughtful Pip agrees. We carefully climb the dark, winding staircase to Father Prior’s chamber where refreshments have been laid out for us. On a large oak table, bread and brie sit alongside strawberries and lettuce.
“Shall we begin? There’s little time to waste. We must eat everything before it’s ruined by the heat. When we are finished, I will call for Brother Mark. He will then show you to your rooms. Afterwards, we will meet and enter the priory together, and then we will view the arm of St Philip.”
On hearing Brother Mark’s name, Pip immediately begins to shift from one foot to another. Agitated, his face begins to twitch.
“Why, Pip, have I said something to displease you?”
“Sorry, Father, but my blood boils as soon as I hear his name. When we arrived a short while ago, he was immensely disrespectful towards Roger. He made him cry. Sorry, but there is nothing holy about him. He’s a thug and a bully. He uses his position to terrorise my brother and no doubt anyone else that he comes into contact with. I cannot forgive him this time. For once, I have managed to catch him red-handed. You should have seen the shock on his face when he saw me. His anger blinded him. He had no idea who was in the group. I hate to think of how many times he has done this before and got away with it.”
Father Prior’s shock is overwhelming as he steps back and lowers himself into his chair. “Lord, forgive me. I am mortified. I have failed in my duties. I knew that Brother Mark suffered from false pride and that he had developed ideas above his station, but I never guessed that he treated anyone in this manner. Why has no one told me of this before? If I had known, I would have done something. He should never have been allowed to get away with this.” Looking around, Father Prior calls for his attendant. “Joseph, please go and bring Brother Mark to me at once. Tell him that it is urgent.” Turning to face Roger, Father Prior asks him to step forward. “Roger, why did you not mention this to me before?”
Alas, this is too much for poor Roger and he begins to sob uncontrollably. Shaking his head, Father Prior continues, “Pip, if you will allow me to deal with this, I will ensure speedy retribution.”
“You are most welcome, Father. In truth, if it were left to me, I might do something that I might regret. Holy cloth or no holy cloth, no one bullies my brother and gets away with it.”
Pip’s words chill me to the bone. Almost immediately, Father Prior rises and goes to the door. After checking that the landing is clear, he closes the door firmly.
“Pip, I have another problem. I was going to speak with you later, but now seems as good a time as any. To my great regret, I believe that the priory has been infiltrated by a Lancastrian spy. If you permit, I would like to deal with both issues at once. The person I suspect goes by the name of Brother Stanley. He arrived unannounced about four weeks ago. His papers were incomplete and his story seemed a little far-fetched, but as he wore the cloth of our house, I took him in and secretly sent word to the Prior of Shrewsbury, as that’s where he’s purported to come from. Up until now, I have not received a reply. I also suspect that Brother Stanley wears a weapon beneath his robes and this, coupled with the fact that there have been strange comings and goings in the village, worries me. In addition, he appears to have befriended Brother Mark. Only the other night, I saw them creep out of the main gate and disappear in the direction of the Speckled Lamb. My spies in the village also saw them and, on their own initiative, followed them until they disappeared into the back room of the inn. Stanley appeared much later, holding what appeared to be a roll. Sensing that he had been followed, he quickly disappeared down Pudding Lane in the direction of the church. Later, he was discovered sheltering by the porch. My spy remained out of sight and observed him lift his habit before secreting the roll in his hose. I’m sure that we all know that brothers do not normally possess hose. Cluniac rules permit that only a habit and sandals are to be worn unless dispensation is sought.”
Pip seems relieved. “Father, by telling me this, you have inadvertently confirmed information I received yesterday. This matter requires urgent action. I need to act quickly. Bethany, you must go with Charlemain. Roger, take them to the main guest room. Once inside, lock the door behind you and let no one in. I will come as soon as I can.” Pip’s face is now grave. “Alard, you must throw away any refreshments that are now left in this room. Now, Bethany, what I am about to say will shock you, but there’s no choice. From now on, you will never sleep on your own again. I will always sleep in your room with you. A wooden bed placed in front of the door will act as a barrier should anyone try to enter. If Brother Stanley is a Lancastrian spy, it’s possible that we are being watched.”
Quickly, we depart from Father Prior’s room, but, to our dismay, as we reach the main guest room, our way is blocked. In front of us, Brother Mark is shouting at both Brother Joseph and Brother Stanley.
“No, Brother Joseph, I will not go to Father Prior immediately. I have things to do; can’t you see that I’m busy? And you, Brother Stanley, why are you here? You have no duties here at present.”
Brother Mark’s words have stunned Roger and he is now frozen to the spot. Charlemain nudges him none too gently in the back and we attempt to move forward. If only we could get inside the main guest room and lock the door, we would be safe. Stepping aside, we attempt to avoid Brother Stanley, who is standing with a thunderous look on his face. I wonder to myself if they really are friends.
Brother Mark begins once more, “Be gone with you, Brother Stanley, and remember to only participate in the tasks that I specify. You will do as you are told or pay the price.”
Brother Stanley’s eyes flash with rage and, to our surprise, he quickly grasps the hem of his habit with one hand, before reaching underneath with the other. He produces a dagger, the blade of which reaches Brother Mark before any of us can move. Roger automatically lurches forward and grabs at Stanley’s wrist. The shock causes Stanley to drop the blood-soaked blade. More brothers join us from seemingly nowhere and quickly restrain Stanley, tying his hands and feet together with the cords from their habits. Being a caring soul, Roger immediately falls to the floor and begins attending to Brother Mark’s wounds.
“No, go away. I can look after myself, I do not need anyone.”
We watch as his dark blood streams onto the floor.
Brother Mark, relenting a little, states, “Well, if you must help. Get me some clean linen and then summons Brother Apothecary. Quickly now.”
Even when wounded, Brother Mark is completely despicable. I can look at him no longer. So, I turn my attention back to a now-gagged Brother Stanley, but I keep being drawn back to Brother Mark. Writhing on the floor in the manner of the devil, I conclude that he’s an evil person through and through, and not one that deserves to be saved. Roger, having a pure heart, cannot help but act out his Christian values and sends word to the apothecary. Nervously, I tug at my sleeves while surveying the scene. I am increasingly confused and I sincerely hope that more help comes very soon, as I’m not too sure how long Brother Stanley’s restraints will last under such force. Matters are made worse by Charlemain, who is now shouting loudly at Brother Mark. He is demanding that Brother Mark remains as still as possible to stop the flow of blood, but I fear that Brother Mark has descended into madness.
“Stop struggling, you fool. You will bleed to death.”
However, Brother Mark seems blind to Charlemain’s instructions. It would seem that he has revenge in his heart as he slides across the floor through the pools of sticky blood, before trying to fling his body on top of Brother Stanley.
“You have betrayed me.” Then, without warning, he begins to tear violently at Brother Stanley’s habit. “You do not deserve to wear the robes of this house. I will rip you to shreds for what you have done to me.” His fury knows no bounds and only subsides once Stanley is naked and covered in blood.
Charlemain, in a state of shock, begins to scream, “I know who you are, you dog. I recognise your scars and that old wound in your belly. You are no brother of this house. You are Alan of Scarisbrick. May you go to hell and burn in the eternal flames when you arrive there.”
Confusion descends even further when Pip, closely followed by four castle guards, rush up to the scene. Quick in their actions, they remove the naked, bound and gagged Alan of Scarisbrick, while Brother Apothecary attempts to staunch the flow of Brother Mark’s blood.
“My, oh my, he’s lost a great deal of blood. Brothers, please help me. He’s nearing death.”
A mortified Father Prior now runs to join us before falling to his knees. Clasping his hands in prayer, he screams, “God forgive me, I am a fool. I let both a bully and a known murderer make this priory their home. My foolishness allowed this to happen.” Panting hard, Father Prior turns to look at us. “Please forgive me, you should never have been placed in such danger. I was a fool. I allowed a suspect to walk freely within this priory when I had suspicions. It was foolhardy to do. Pip, do you think that he is part of a network?”
“Yes, for certain, and it is now my job to track them down. I have already sent word to South Acre asking for as many healthy men as possible to join us, but the first thing that I need to do is to shut down the Speckled Lamb and flush out whatever scum resides there. Uncle, can you accompany Bethany as normal? Why should she suffer because of all this? Bethany, I would like you to continue as normal. It pains me that you had to witness such a violent incident. I want you to rest and be looked after, but not before you are treated to a private viewing of St Philip’s arm. Rest assured that no one will hurt you. Brother Stanley was the only new arrival in years. Now, I must go.” For a split second, Pip smiles.
Deep within the priory, the feeling of sanctuary returns. It is cool and silent. Approaching the high altar, I can feel the warmth of an inordinate number of candles. Charlemain leads me to the right, down a step and through a very small doorway. I cannot help but think of the pilgrims that have travelled this way before. Indeed, their feet have worn an indentation into the stone step. Once inside, Charlemain leads me down yet more steps.
“Bethany, are you recovered?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod, not wanting to speak of the incident.
“Now, let’s be seated.”
We take our stools, opposite Father Prior’s chair. The beauty of the crypt astounds me. Charlemain nods to Brother Redbeard.
“Brother, now we are settled, please can you bring the blessed arm to us?”
Brother Redbeard bows slightly and walks towards a glass-fronted cabinet, which is located at the foot of the altar. Opening the door, he reaches inside and carefully removes the relic. My heart is pounding with anticipation. Unlike the holy finger of St Thomas, St Philip’s arm is black and shrivelled. I wonder what the black part is, before it suddenly dawns on me that it is dead skin. A wave of sickness passes over me. I am glad that I am seated.
“Please let us pray before I tell you a little of St Phillip’s life. God grant that our hearts are open to your love. Let us live this day without fear. Let us also pray for the newly invested Lord Harsyck. Lord, please guide him and protect him as he endeavours to rid us of murderous enemies.”
At the end of the prayer, sweet music brings us back to the present. St Philip’s arm is now resting directly in front of us on a white silk cushion.
“Now, Bethany, let me begin. We are in the presence of the blessed arm of St Philip the Apostle. As one of Jesus’ apostles, his calling was to go out and preach. This saw him travel far and wide. He was also present at the Last Supper when Jesus was betrayed. After Jesus’ crucifixion, St Philip was reluctant to join the other apostles. He preferred to travel on his own, telling everyone how Jesus fed the 5,000 with just five loaves of bread and two fishes. He converted people everywhere he went, for he carried love in his heart. His message was so powerful. Alas, his life was cut short and he was martyred in the city of Hierapolis. Crucified. A true believer to the end, he continued to preach until his dying breath. Even when others were cut down from their crosses and released, he demanded that he be left on the cross to die. When his body was eventually taken down, his skin was so burnt that it was stuck fast to his bones. Despite this, his body has never truly decayed. To this day, his nails still grow! After his death, miracles began almost immediately. The powers that be tried in vain to destroy his body and, to this end, he was beheaded before being laid to rest in Hierapolis. Many years after his death, the lord sent a message saying that St Philip’s relics should be recovered and distributed across the Christian world. It was at this point that St Philip became synonymous with the sign of a basket full of bread – meaning that even in death, he has continued to spread the message of redemption through Jesus Christ.”
Stunned, I sit and absorb Charlemain’s words.
“Now, Bethany, you have a choice to make. Father Prior has given special permission for you to touch St Philip’s arm if you desire, but think carefully before you accept. If you touch the arm, your prayers will have a greater intensity. Not just for now, but forever. Remember, miracles do happen.”
After a few moments, I decide that I would like to touch the arm. The blackened flesh unnerves me, but the thought of my prayers having a greater effect outweighs any concerns that I may have. “I would be honoured to touch the arm of St Philip. I would also like to light candles around it. Not for me, but for Clarise. I would also like to leave one of her coins, if that’s possible. I promised faithfully that I would complete her pilgrimage for her and I’m sure that she would have touched the arm if she could.”
“Bethany, what a lovely idea. I will arrange for the candles to be bought to us.”
Although I am fearful of touching St Philip’s blackened skin, I shut my eyes and recall Clarise’s words. I am anxious to get them in exactly the same order. Then, fumbling inside my satchel, I feel for my purse before removing one coin. When I am ready, I nod to Brother Redbeard, who begins to chant. His voice is beautifully pitched and it produces a haunting melody. St Philip’s arm is now in front of me. I stretch out my hand and allow my fingers to brush against it. Immediately, I feel a rush of energy course through my entire body. The shock makes me want to move away, but I remain still. I struggle to find the right words to describe what’s happening to me. A bright white light has exploded somewhere in my head and silver stars now blur my vision. As they begin to fade, another light explodes. This time, its bright blue and accompanied by small blue teardrops. These also begin to fade after a few minutes. Then, by way of a miracle, when I open my eyes, my vision is perfect and everything is in sharp focus! I cannot believe it. I close my eyes again and shake my head. Then, I close each eye in turn to check my vision. My body begins to shake. Charlemain, ever loving, holds my hands.
“Bethany, has a miracle happened? Can you see? Please tell me.”
“Yes, Charlemain. I can see. It’s a miracle!”
With this, we both sink to our knees and sob uncontrollably. Brother Redbeard smiles before removing the arm and carefully placing it back inside the glass-fronted cabinet. Turning to us, Brother Redbeard’s speaking voice is very different to how I imagined. It is low and rough, with an accent I have never heard.
“Mistress, can you hear me? Mistress, please do tell. Has a miracle taken place?”
Through my sobbing, I manage to answer, “Why, yes, it has. I can see sharper than ever before.” Then, realising I had told no one but Agnes, I turn to Charlemain. His old eyes are now red. “Please forgive me, Charlemain, for not mentioning it before, but after touching St Thomas’ finger at West Acre, my sight was much improved. But now, it is even better, and I can see everything as clear as day. First there was energy, then there were stars and then there were white and blue lights. Oh, Charlemain, all of my prayers have been answered and the strangest thing is that I wasn’t even asking for myself. I was concentrating on Clarise.”
“Bethany, in my experience, that is so often the case. God gives us what we need, not what we ask for.” With great excitement, Charlemain helps me up. “Come, we must visit Father Prior immediately. He must know about the miracle. His clerk will have to record all of the details and there are, no doubt, procedures that we will need to follow.”
Outside, the light is blinding and I immediately shield my eyes. As I wobble, Charlemain catches me. “I expect that everything will seem very strange for a while, but I’m sure that you will get used to it in time.”
“Oh, Charlemain… I feel like I’m walking on air. It’s a wonderful problem to have.”
As we enter Father Prior’s lodgings, we are greeted by Alard and Davy, who are guarding the building. Happy to see them, I try not to stare. I wonder if they can guess what has just happened to me and I wonder if my eyes appear different to them. If so, nothing is mentioned. They just smile as we pass. Only now, on our way to the prior’s room, do I remember the events of the day. Alan of Scarisbrick, Brother Mark. Blood and terror.
At the Abbot’s door, we are met by Owain. He is standing guard and has a sulky look on his face.
“Why the long face, Owain? Has there been any further trouble?”
“No, Charlemain, I’m just disappointed, that’s all. I had been looking forward to a good few games of dice and the best ale in the area for ages.”
“Well, we could always arrange a game here, as long as there is no money involved. Would that help your mood?”
“Yes, that would be fun. It’s not the gambling, you see. I just enjoy beating everyone.” Owain’s smile returns as he opens the prior’s door.
Inside, Pip and Father Prior sit opposite each other across a large oak table. As we enter, they both stand. Father Prior, ever keen to make us comfortable, pours us each a large glass of red wine, while Pip draws forward two stools.
“Now, I propose that we leave the events of the day behind us. We have done what we can. I am keen to hear of Bethany’s experience. Did you touch St Philip’s arm?”
Charlemain, bursting with enthusiasm and unable to remain silent, begins immediately. “There has been a miracle! God, be blessed! There has been a miracle! Bethany can see! She can see clearly! Her eyes have been healed!”
Father Prior’s shock is palpable. Standing, he turns this way and that, then calls loudly to Owain. “Owain, please go and fetch my clerk immediately. Alard and Davy will be protection enough.”
Without another word, Owain runs off into the distance. Father Prior’s shock has turned to panic. Sitting, he takes a large gulp of his wine. “My, oh my. It has been many years since a miracle has taken place at Castle Acre and I need to record every detail. I will get Johnson to prepare a document for the archbishop’s delegation. By chance, they are residing at Walsingham as we speak. Archbishop Thomas must hear of this tonight.”
After what seems hours of questioning, Johnson is ready to leave. All that remains is for Pip to seal the document. Going over to the fire, he melts a handful of small wax beads in a golden spoon until they bubble. Then, he carefully places a pool of hot green wax onto the end of the parchment. Before it cools, both Father Prior and Pip use their signet rings to mark it.
“Johnson, I wish you God speed. The horses and Brother Redbeard await you at the front gate. Deliver this to no one but Archbishop Thomas. Brother Redbeard will do the rest. As he witnessed the miracle, he can recount it in detail. Then rest and return tomorrow.”
After Johnson departs, we all sink into our seats and let out a collective sigh before Father Prior speaks. “Today has been a good day. We have much to celebrate. I will send word to the kitchens. Tonight, we will feast on roast rabbit and pike with garlic sauce, but before that we must rest.”
Charlemain, remembering his promise, announces that he has promised Owain that there will be gaming and music tonight.
A joyous Pip replies, “For once, we can let Ned loose to make as much noise as he wants.”
To this, we all laugh before leaving for our individual rooms. I am glad to be escorted by Pip, but then I remember that we are to share a room from now on. As we walk, I take delight in Pip’s features. Before, I found it almost impossible to see his face clearly. Now, I can see that he has a strong jawline, a sturdy nose and pronounced brow ridges. His eyes are a deep shade of brown and they shine like the sun. It crosses my mind that I have no idea what I look like. I have never used a hand mirror before. The distortion has always been too great.
Once inside our room, I ask Pip about Roger. With a worried expression, he turns to face me. “When I last saw him, he was shaking so violently that he could not stand. Fortunately, Father Prior has agreed that he can return home to the manor for a while. He will be far better off with mother and she will be glad of the company. It will give him time to think about his future. Today has been very trying, but at least it’s bought events to a head. I have been worried about him for months. The last time I was here, he stubbornly refused to let me intervene, even though things had deteriorated. At least his nightmare is over now. Brother Mark is dead and I suspect that there are few, if any, who will mourn his passing. Alas, my headache continues, as my men spotted two of the queen’s spies roaming behind the church this morning. They disappeared before my men could apprehend them, but let’s not think about the past. Let’s look to the future. I am so happy that you can see. It must be a very strange sensation. Did you ever have good sight?”
“Yes, when I was small, but the shock of my mother’s death changed everything.”
“Well, now you have a second chance. Have you any idea what you would like to do in the future?”
“Well, I should like to keep travelling. Maybe I could visit all the shrines in England or perhaps I could join Duke Richard’s household.”
To this, Pip beams. “I would say that the latter is a most worthy thing to do.”
After resting, we set out for the hall. As we approach, we can hear Ned singing at the top of his voice.
Pip is the first to speak, “Ah yes… Ned is in fine form tonight. I understand that his mood was boosted even further when Owain told him about the games. I know that I shouldn’t, but I felt very mean for closing the Speckled Lamb before they could play one last game of dice. I had no choice, though. I would have been negligent to ignore what my spies had reported.”
In the hall, we are greeted by Owain, Davy, Charlemain and Alard. They are all seated on the floor, surrounded by dice and cups.
“Are you going to join them for a game, Pip?”
“No, that would be unwise. I will just observe from a distance. How would it look if the brothers saw their new lord of the manor dicing?”
“Oh yes… I hadn’t thought of that.”
I cannot say when the others retired, but Pip and myself leave the hall soon after the brothers retreat to the chapel for evening prayers.
“I fear that there will be many a sore head from tonight’s entertainment, but at least they are happy,” Pip says.
“Pip, do we have a long walk ahead of us tomorrow?”
“Oh Bethany, please forgive me. In all the excitement, I failed to mention my plans for tomorrow.”
I can see from Pip’s face that something is amiss.
“After consulting Father Prior and identifying Alan of Scarisbrick, I have decided that to carry on by foot would be unwise. Therefore, I had Johnson send a letter to Brother James Longhorn at the House of the Friars Minor. We are to travel to Little Walsingham directly. As it is still quite a distance, I have arranged for us to ride. The horses will arrive in the morning. But if you would prefer not to ride, I could arrange a cart for you?”
“Oh no, I’m more than happy to ride.” Far from being disappointed, I am ecstatic!
***
The morning is dry and sunny once more, and the sunshine floods the room. I rise early, forgetting that Pip sleeps on a bed by the door. He wakes up with a start.
“Oh dear, Pip, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I completely forgot that you were here. I’m just so excited about the day ahead that I cannot sleep. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined that I would ride into Walsingham. To enter on a horse is beyond words!”
Pip’s face glows as he rises and stretches. “That’s music to my ears, for I had feared that my decision would ruin your experience entirely.”
“What do you mean ‘ruin it entirely’?”
“Well, when you started out, you had no idea of your family’s connections or that you were being shielded. Then, when we met, I was guarded, fearful of attack and not overly friendly with anyone. Then, what with Duke Richard’s letter and all, I was worried that you would dread the very sight of me.”
Walking over to Pip, I cannot help but reach out and touch him. It seems the most natural thing to do. In turn, he pulls me close and holds me against his chest, so close that I can feel his beating heart. How I wish we could stay like this forever, but, alas, we must leave.
Outside, all of our things are packed and ready to go. Charlemain then leads us to the stable block where the horses are waiting for us. Most are bay with white markings, but in the end stall, I spot a grey one. I just cannot resist taking a peep. On closer inspection, I notice that his front legs are slightly darker than his body and that they are dappled. His ears are bolt upright and his eyes are inquisitive. I enter carefully and stroke the entire length of his neck. He appears to be a gentle creature. I doubt that he is likely to bite or shy away.
Charlemain approaches. “I see that you have made friends already. I think this one is called Eric.”
“What a strange name for a horse.”
“Yes, I agree, but it sort of suits him, don’t you think?”
Laughing, I rub his ears. “Well, Eric, what do you think of your name?” To my surprise, he starts to whinny loudly, starting the others off. “Oh, Charlemain, I do hope that I can ride Eric?”
“I can’t see any reason why not. Here, let me help you up.”
Once aloft, I realise that Eric is far taller than I had imagined. Squeezing my legs gently against his belly, I ask him to move forward. He does this without a problem. So, I decide to see if I can stop him as easily. Again, he responds to the pressure from my legs.
“Charlemain, I think that Eric will be the perfect companion.”
With that sorted, I ask Eric to walk on into the yard before dismounting. As we make our final preparations, I am alarmed to see that everyone is wearing swords.
Pip, noticing my alarm, speaks, “Danger still abounds, Bethany. Those spies I mentioned yesterday have been seen again.” Unfortunately, his words are cut short as a filthy female beggar, with straggly hair and muck-stained hands, has seemingly appeared from nowhere. Now directly in front of me, the beggar raises both of her hands in a claw-like fashion before lurching straight towards me. I feel her rough nails pierce my skin and I immediately drop to the ground and curl into a ball. Fearful that she will blind me again, I hold my head as I rock around. Before I know it, the beggar has climbed on top of me. She is not overly heavy, but I cry out in pain. She begins to pound my body uncontrollably with her fists. The pain is intense and the smell of her body is putrid. I gag uncontrollably until bile fills my mouth. I roll over to release it as Owain drags her away.
Still lying on the ground, I watch in terror as a bald man dressed in dark red approaches Pip. His body moves slowly as his fat moves from side to side. He is so close now that I can see his eyes. They are black and guarded. His jowls sag and his mouth is twisted in anger. Shockingly, he changes direction with an unexpected stealth and grabs my satchel. I foolishly lurch towards it and feel the full force of his boot for doing so. My cheek burns with pain.
Then, in a split second, Pip runs him through with his blade before kicking him in the ribs. Both Davy and Alard leap forward and tie his hands securely behind his back. Pip’s face is angrier than I could ever have imagined.
“Take him to his master, Alan of Scarisbrick, and find out what they know. I have seen this man before; he is one of the queen’s puppets. Let’s keep him as bait and see if the queen actually cares for him.”
As the man is lifted from the ground, blood gushes from his thigh. Pip orders that no mercy is shown to either, only that the man’s wound is staunched. “We don’t want him to die as dead men can’t talk – and keep that witch in a separate cell. I’ll decide what to do with her later.”
Kneeling by my side, Pip slides his hand around my waist. “Come on, let’s get you standing. Owain, can you get a stool?”
The shock is unbearable and I struggle to comprehend what’s just happened.
“Bethany, I am so sorry. I failed you. My spies should have known where those two were hiding.”
Looking into Pip’s eyes, I protest, “You haven’t failed me. Far from it. Your quick actions saved my life.”
“Yes, but if I had known, it would never have happened.”
“Oh well, it has and we must move on. I don’t want it to ruin Walsingham.”
“You are right; we must move on. Now that those two dogs have been dispatched to the dungeons, let’s rest a while as we’ll soon be on the road again. Before we go, I have good news. The situation has changed once more. Others are to join us on our journey to Little Walsingham and it’s my job to afford them protection.”
All of a sudden, I’m confused. “Who are these people and why are you smiling? Surely if protection is needed, then that’s a bad thing?”
“Not always, have a look over there.”
I follow the direction of Pip’s hand and I am shocked by what I see. Two carts are approaching. I strain to see inside them and I am overjoyed when I see both Ethel and Agnes sitting upright!
“Well, Bethany, I always promised you that we would enter Walsingham together and I would never lie to you. You never doubted my word, did you?”
I am unable to hold back the tears any longer. “Oh, thank you, Pip. This is the best surprise that I could ever have. Never once did I allow myself to imagine that we would all enter Walsingham together. I never thought it would be possible.”
“If I’m completely honest, neither did I, but with Scarisbrick and his sidekicks under armed guard, I doubt that any of his followers will be foolish enough to attack us now. Without their leader, they will be forced to regroup and wait for another leader, meaning that we are free to ride at a gentle pace.”
Ethel, now greatly recovered, is gently lifted down from her cart and placed alongside Agnes in hers. Overjoyed, they hug and kiss each other.
“God be praised! I thought that we would never see each other again.”
“Neither did I. We have much to catch up on.”