place,” Brother Alnett advised, “is St Mary’s Chapel, for it is on this site that the old church, first in Glastonbury, was built.” He led us there and indeed it was not possible to stand in the place and escape a sense of awe and the presence of God. Arthur and Uctred felt this also, and crossed themselves.
“The view from the tor is wonderful,” Brother Alnett claimed. “I thought never to see the abbey from its heights again, but now I shall. I will take you there next.”
The climb to the top of the tor is laborious, but worth the toil. The Church of St Michael at the top is nearly completed. What effort it took to haul the stones to the eminence! Arthur and Uctred had chattered as we began the climb, but were soon too winded to continue their prattle. At the top the magnificence of the view seemed to strike them dumb, and me as well. It was Brother Alnett who spoke: “The death you spoke of… is it a murderer you seek in Exeter?”
“Aye. The man I seek was once in league with another to blackmail those who had confessed to him their sins, for he was a priest assigned to a small chapel near Bampton. His accomplice in the felony was found hanging from a tree near the town three weeks past.”
“Did not the Church demand penance of the man for betraying the confessional?”
“Aye. He was required to make a pilgrimage to Compostela, which he did, but has since returned. He is to serve as assistant to the almoner at St Nicholas’s Priory, in Exeter.”
“You believe this priest murdered the fellow found hanged?”
“Aye. The dead man’s brother was first entangled in the blackmail, and was found dead from an arrow in the back when I was near to discovering the felony. ’Tis my belief this priest slew him to avoid his sins being exposed.”
“An evil man, this false priest,” the monk concluded.
Arthur and Uctred had overheard this conversation while gazing out over the town and abbey below. Now Arthur spoke: “John Kellet was always a good man with a longbow. Master Hugh couldn’t prove ’e’d put the arrow in Henry atte Bridge’s back, but who else would do so?”
“Kellet?” Brother Alnett turned to me with raised brows. “The priest was named Kellet?”
“Aye. John Kellet.”
“He stayed three days here… no, ’twas four. I would not have thought him strong enough to draw a bow. He was near to collapse from hunger when he came to us.”
“How long past was this?” I asked.
“Three weeks, thereabouts. Said he was bound for Exeter. Didn’t say why. I bade him stay ’til his strength was renewed for the journey. I could not see him plainly, of course, but brother infirmarer said he was gaunt and wore a hair shirt. A holy man, we took him for.”
This report troubled me. Was John Kellet so able an actor that he could take a man’s life but appear pious to both Father Simon and the monks of Glastonbury Abbey?
Early next morn Brother Alnett bid me farewell and required of me a promise that I would visit the abbey again upon my return from Exeter to treat his other eye. The sun that day was warm in our faces as we traveled southward. Robins and jackdaws flitted across our way, and high above carrion crows perched in the uppermost branches of trees. From such lofty roost they watched for songbirds, and when they saw a smaller bird seeking its home they flapped from their place to swoop down and plunder the nest. Must it always be thus, that the strong take what they will from the weak? It is my duty as bailiff to see it is not so, but many who hold such a post as mine in service to great lords are much like the crows. The carrion crows do but what is their nature. Is such conduct men’s nature also? It must be so, else why must the Lord Christ die for our sins? I must seek Master Wyclif and hear his opinion.
Arthur, Uctred, and I sought lodging that night in Taunton, and departed next day with multiple companions, for the inn was verminous.
Chapter 8
W e reached
“The view from the tor is wonderful,” Brother Alnett claimed. “I thought never to see the abbey from its heights again, but now I shall. I will take you there next.”
The climb to the top of the tor is laborious, but worth the toil. The Church of St Michael at the top is nearly completed. What effort it took to haul the stones to the eminence! Arthur and Uctred had chattered as we began the climb, but were soon too winded to continue their prattle. At the top the magnificence of the view seemed to strike them dumb, and me as well. It was Brother Alnett who spoke: “The death you spoke of… is it a murderer you seek in Exeter?”
“Aye. The man I seek was once in league with another to blackmail those who had confessed to him their sins, for he was a priest assigned to a small chapel near Bampton. His accomplice in the felony was found hanging from a tree near the town three weeks past.”
“Did not the Church demand penance of the man for betraying the confessional?”
“Aye. He was required to make a pilgrimage to Compostela, which he did, but has since returned. He is to serve as assistant to the almoner at St Nicholas’s Priory, in Exeter.”
“You believe this priest murdered the fellow found hanged?”
“Aye. The dead man’s brother was first entangled in the blackmail, and was found dead from an arrow in the back when I was near to discovering the felony. ’Tis my belief this priest slew him to avoid his sins being exposed.”
“An evil man, this false priest,” the monk concluded.
Arthur and Uctred had overheard this conversation while gazing out over the town and abbey below. Now Arthur spoke: “John Kellet was always a good man with a longbow. Master Hugh couldn’t prove ’e’d put the arrow in Henry atte Bridge’s back, but who else would do so?”
“Kellet?” Brother Alnett turned to me with raised brows. “The priest was named Kellet?”
“Aye. John Kellet.”
“He stayed three days here… no, ’twas four. I would not have thought him strong enough to draw a bow. He was near to collapse from hunger when he came to us.”
“How long past was this?” I asked.
“Three weeks, thereabouts. Said he was bound for Exeter. Didn’t say why. I bade him stay ’til his strength was renewed for the journey. I could not see him plainly, of course, but brother infirmarer said he was gaunt and wore a hair shirt. A holy man, we took him for.”
This report troubled me. Was John Kellet so able an actor that he could take a man’s life but appear pious to both Father Simon and the monks of Glastonbury Abbey?
Early next morn Brother Alnett bid me farewell and required of me a promise that I would visit the abbey again upon my return from Exeter to treat his other eye. The sun that day was warm in our faces as we traveled southward. Robins and jackdaws flitted across our way, and high above carrion crows perched in the uppermost branches of trees. From such lofty roost they watched for songbirds, and when they saw a smaller bird seeking its home they flapped from their place to swoop down and plunder the nest. Must it always be thus, that the strong take what they will from the weak? It is my duty as bailiff to see it is not so, but many who hold such a post as mine in service to great lords are much like the crows. The carrion crows do but what is their nature. Is such conduct men’s nature also? It must be so, else why must the Lord Christ die for our sins? I must seek Master Wyclif and hear his opinion.
Arthur, Uctred, and I sought lodging that night in Taunton, and departed next day with multiple companions, for the inn was verminous.
Chapter 8
W e reached
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