futility of his unrequited adoration, and she left his hall filled with confusion. He was kind to her, he was protecting her here in his castle, and yet she felt sure that she couldn’t return his love. She had never experienced a grown man’s
love
before. Only lust.
Father Adam finished working on his little glebe and was about to go home for a late lunch when he saw the three large rounseys appear. His guilt was always at the forefront of his mind, andseeing them, he instantly wondered whether the rural dean had already heard of his sins and had sent these fellows for him, but he soon dismissed the idea. No, the rural dean couldn’t call on a belted knight and his men to help him. These must be travellers. That was what they looked like: a knight, his man-at-arms and a forester or bowman to guard them.
Of course, some mercenaries would kill as soon as look at a man, especially one with a price on his head. It was such an alarming thought, he almost dropped his basket of beans and Good King Henry, all freshly picked for his pottage. Adam slipped back into the protection of the doorway. He would hide there and let the men pass by. Better to treat all strangers with caution. Since the war, after which the Despensers had returned to the realm, there were all manner of tales of knights becoming outlaws, and whole shires being ravaged by trail bastons and murderers. Even priests were treated no better than peasants.
To his horror, he saw that one of them, a tall, rugged-looking man with a bright blue tunic and red hosen, was looking straight at him. He pointed at Adam, and all three headed towards him.
‘Father, I am Sir Baldwin of Furnshill and this is my friend Simon, Bailiff of Lydford. We are riding to Devonshire. Is this the right road?’
‘I am told so,’ Adam responded. He glanced over the three, and although he saw that the two were armed and capable-looking men, he had a feeling that they were not dangerous. ‘I … ah … I live over there. If you would desire a break in your journey, I would be happy to give you some lunch.’
‘That is most kind, but we have a long way to go,’ Baldwin said. ‘Perhaps we could take a little ale or wine though, if you have some to spare, Father? Something to slake our thirst would be gratefully received.’
Adam grinned with relief that these were no wandering outlaws.‘In a place like this, we rarely see decent wine, Sir Knight, but I can promise you the best ale in the vill.’
‘Then we should be delighted.’
‘Please follow me.’
His house was timber-built, a small place but comfortable, at the northern tip of the churchyard. At the westernmost end lay the buttery and pantry, with a small chamber over them for guests, while the eastern bay held another chamber over a small byre in which the vicar’s animals would live. At present there was nothing there.
Seeing Baldwin’s interested glance, Adam said, ‘The oxen are out with my villeins. There’s always more work to be done.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Baldwin said. ‘Tell me, what is the lord of this manor like?’
‘Sir Henry has been absent for many years,’ Adam said. ‘He is a member of the King’s household, so he rarely comes this way.’
‘Who looks after the manor in his absence?’
‘There is the steward, Gervase, and the castellan, Nicholas. Both hold responsibility for the estates.’
‘Are they honourable?’
‘Why yes, I believe so,’ Adam said with genuine surprise.
As Baldwin nodded, a young woman in her early twenties entered, a baby at her breast. She took a long look at the men in the room, and then walked to Adam, a hand resting on his forearm while she talked. Soon he was nodding, and she left him there, hurrying from the room to fetch drinks.
Baldwin shot a look at Simon, who met his gaze unblinkingly. Both were sure that the woman was Adam’s ‘priest’s mare’, his concubine. Simon was not bothered by this, but Baldwin found it repellent that a man should
love
before. Only lust.
Father Adam finished working on his little glebe and was about to go home for a late lunch when he saw the three large rounseys appear. His guilt was always at the forefront of his mind, andseeing them, he instantly wondered whether the rural dean had already heard of his sins and had sent these fellows for him, but he soon dismissed the idea. No, the rural dean couldn’t call on a belted knight and his men to help him. These must be travellers. That was what they looked like: a knight, his man-at-arms and a forester or bowman to guard them.
Of course, some mercenaries would kill as soon as look at a man, especially one with a price on his head. It was such an alarming thought, he almost dropped his basket of beans and Good King Henry, all freshly picked for his pottage. Adam slipped back into the protection of the doorway. He would hide there and let the men pass by. Better to treat all strangers with caution. Since the war, after which the Despensers had returned to the realm, there were all manner of tales of knights becoming outlaws, and whole shires being ravaged by trail bastons and murderers. Even priests were treated no better than peasants.
To his horror, he saw that one of them, a tall, rugged-looking man with a bright blue tunic and red hosen, was looking straight at him. He pointed at Adam, and all three headed towards him.
‘Father, I am Sir Baldwin of Furnshill and this is my friend Simon, Bailiff of Lydford. We are riding to Devonshire. Is this the right road?’
‘I am told so,’ Adam responded. He glanced over the three, and although he saw that the two were armed and capable-looking men, he had a feeling that they were not dangerous. ‘I … ah … I live over there. If you would desire a break in your journey, I would be happy to give you some lunch.’
‘That is most kind, but we have a long way to go,’ Baldwin said. ‘Perhaps we could take a little ale or wine though, if you have some to spare, Father? Something to slake our thirst would be gratefully received.’
Adam grinned with relief that these were no wandering outlaws.‘In a place like this, we rarely see decent wine, Sir Knight, but I can promise you the best ale in the vill.’
‘Then we should be delighted.’
‘Please follow me.’
His house was timber-built, a small place but comfortable, at the northern tip of the churchyard. At the westernmost end lay the buttery and pantry, with a small chamber over them for guests, while the eastern bay held another chamber over a small byre in which the vicar’s animals would live. At present there was nothing there.
Seeing Baldwin’s interested glance, Adam said, ‘The oxen are out with my villeins. There’s always more work to be done.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Baldwin said. ‘Tell me, what is the lord of this manor like?’
‘Sir Henry has been absent for many years,’ Adam said. ‘He is a member of the King’s household, so he rarely comes this way.’
‘Who looks after the manor in his absence?’
‘There is the steward, Gervase, and the castellan, Nicholas. Both hold responsibility for the estates.’
‘Are they honourable?’
‘Why yes, I believe so,’ Adam said with genuine surprise.
As Baldwin nodded, a young woman in her early twenties entered, a baby at her breast. She took a long look at the men in the room, and then walked to Adam, a hand resting on his forearm while she talked. Soon he was nodding, and she left him there, hurrying from the room to fetch drinks.
Baldwin shot a look at Simon, who met his gaze unblinkingly. Both were sure that the woman was Adam’s ‘priest’s mare’, his concubine. Simon was not bothered by this, but Baldwin found it repellent that a man should
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