him.
‘Master Saddler! I
am
pleased to see you again.’
‘Udo … I am glad to see you, too,’ Henry said with a sinking heart.
Thomas was at an inn when the commotion began.
There was a clear, tinkling noise like a bell, and then he heard voices shouting. A bellow roared out, followed by a scream and then a rumbling noise … He quickly downed his quart of ale and went out after the other patrons into the street.
The row seemed to be coming from the entrance to the Priory. As Thomas hurried up Fore Street he joined a gang of children who were capering along too, and some women. Even a few hawkers who apparently had little better to do were giving in to their curiosity. All those with more urgent things to do were already over beyond Carfoix, Thomas said to himself moodily.
Further up the street, the crowd increased, and soon Thomas could not see the Priory gate itself for the press of men and women thronging the path.
The screams were much louder now, and made the blood run cold. Necks craned, there were confused shouts and then the press of people parted as the first of the wounded appeared – a girl, eyes wide in terror, arms outstretched, pushing and wailing, desperate to get away. Thomas grabbed her arms and tried to calm her, to get her to explain what had happened, but she only mewed like a cat, and as soon as she could, pulled away and bolted past him.
People were suddenly melting away, and Thomas barged onwards, not certain why, but convinced that he must get forwards, to the front.
Later it became clear what must have happened, but at that moment, when he reached the Priory’s wall, he gasped in shockas he, and those around him, found themselves confronted by the pile of bodies.
So many, he found it hard to believe. Some at the top were still twitching, but those beneath were still, their eyes open, blood dripping from scratches and scrapes, hands and feet mingled in a hideous mound of death. All about there was a strange, tragic silence.
Thomas doubted that there could be any survivors in that monstrous heap, and yet someone must make sure. Reaching for the first, he tentatively pulled at the scrawny ankles until the thinly dressed figure of a girlchild of maybe nine years fell on the cobbles before him – a pretty little waif, with round face and fair hair. ‘My God!’ he exclaimed, his throat constricted with the horror, and reached for the next. ‘
Help me
!’
Other willing hands were soon at work, and they began hauling bodies aside. Some were still breathing, and these they set apart, but the dead were the larger group, and it was easy to see why. They were all malnourished, the children with rickets, the adults with the yellow or grey skin that spoke of illness and hunger.
It was when he had pulled the fourth body from that obscene mound that he found Saul’s wife, poor Sara.
Udo extended his hand and nodded to the saddler.
‘I … er, I’m pleased to see you so well,’ Henry stammered.
‘Ja, well, your physician is very good,’ Udo said with a grimace. ‘He bled me twice, and assures me I can expect to have a full recovery.’
‘I am very glad to hear it!’ Henry said effusively.
Udo glanced at him. ‘It was exceedingly painful,’ he noted.
God in heaven, but how painful he could never describe. The physician, Ralph of Malmesbury, had arrived with twoassistants, both carrying large leather bags filled with the tools of their trade. Almost as soon as he entered Udo’s hall, he subjected the room to a cursory investigation, and only when he had noted Udo’s silver plate and the pewter jug and goblet on the table at his side did he show any desire to study the patient himself. Blasted physicians always wanted to make sure a man could pay before bothering to exert themselves.
‘I understand you fell from your horse?’ Ralph began. He was a chubby fellow, with bright blue eyes set rather too close for comfort, and hair of a faded brown, like a fustian cotte that had
‘Master Saddler! I
am
pleased to see you again.’
‘Udo … I am glad to see you, too,’ Henry said with a sinking heart.
Thomas was at an inn when the commotion began.
There was a clear, tinkling noise like a bell, and then he heard voices shouting. A bellow roared out, followed by a scream and then a rumbling noise … He quickly downed his quart of ale and went out after the other patrons into the street.
The row seemed to be coming from the entrance to the Priory. As Thomas hurried up Fore Street he joined a gang of children who were capering along too, and some women. Even a few hawkers who apparently had little better to do were giving in to their curiosity. All those with more urgent things to do were already over beyond Carfoix, Thomas said to himself moodily.
Further up the street, the crowd increased, and soon Thomas could not see the Priory gate itself for the press of men and women thronging the path.
The screams were much louder now, and made the blood run cold. Necks craned, there were confused shouts and then the press of people parted as the first of the wounded appeared – a girl, eyes wide in terror, arms outstretched, pushing and wailing, desperate to get away. Thomas grabbed her arms and tried to calm her, to get her to explain what had happened, but she only mewed like a cat, and as soon as she could, pulled away and bolted past him.
People were suddenly melting away, and Thomas barged onwards, not certain why, but convinced that he must get forwards, to the front.
Later it became clear what must have happened, but at that moment, when he reached the Priory’s wall, he gasped in shockas he, and those around him, found themselves confronted by the pile of bodies.
So many, he found it hard to believe. Some at the top were still twitching, but those beneath were still, their eyes open, blood dripping from scratches and scrapes, hands and feet mingled in a hideous mound of death. All about there was a strange, tragic silence.
Thomas doubted that there could be any survivors in that monstrous heap, and yet someone must make sure. Reaching for the first, he tentatively pulled at the scrawny ankles until the thinly dressed figure of a girlchild of maybe nine years fell on the cobbles before him – a pretty little waif, with round face and fair hair. ‘My God!’ he exclaimed, his throat constricted with the horror, and reached for the next. ‘
Help me
!’
Other willing hands were soon at work, and they began hauling bodies aside. Some were still breathing, and these they set apart, but the dead were the larger group, and it was easy to see why. They were all malnourished, the children with rickets, the adults with the yellow or grey skin that spoke of illness and hunger.
It was when he had pulled the fourth body from that obscene mound that he found Saul’s wife, poor Sara.
Udo extended his hand and nodded to the saddler.
‘I … er, I’m pleased to see you so well,’ Henry stammered.
‘Ja, well, your physician is very good,’ Udo said with a grimace. ‘He bled me twice, and assures me I can expect to have a full recovery.’
‘I am very glad to hear it!’ Henry said effusively.
Udo glanced at him. ‘It was exceedingly painful,’ he noted.
God in heaven, but how painful he could never describe. The physician, Ralph of Malmesbury, had arrived with twoassistants, both carrying large leather bags filled with the tools of their trade. Almost as soon as he entered Udo’s hall, he subjected the room to a cursory investigation, and only when he had noted Udo’s silver plate and the pewter jug and goblet on the table at his side did he show any desire to study the patient himself. Blasted physicians always wanted to make sure a man could pay before bothering to exert themselves.
‘I understand you fell from your horse?’ Ralph began. He was a chubby fellow, with bright blue eyes set rather too close for comfort, and hair of a faded brown, like a fustian cotte that had
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