Rest Not in Peace Read Online Free PDF Page A

but they seemed to enjoy the meal as much as we who dined on more refined fare.
    “Your chaplain,” I said to Lord Gilbert when the meal was done, “has he offered Extreme Unction?”
    “Aye. When Sir Henry was discovered dead. Before I sent for you.”
    “What is to be done with the corpse? Will Lady Margery return her husband to Bedford?”
    “Nay. She said ’tis too far. June days are warm. Sir Henry will begin to stink before he can be got home. She will have him buried here, in St Beornwald’s churchyard.”
    “She does not wish him interred in the church?” I asked. I was somewhat surprised that a knight would await the Lord Christ’s return under the sod with common folk.
    “What she wishes and what she will pay for seem two different things.”
    “Lady Margery will not pay for Sir Henry to be buried within the church?”
    “Will not, or cannot,” Lord Gilbert said.
    “Surely a knight’s widow has coin enough to see him rest under the church floor.”
    Lord Gilbert shrugged. “Father Thomas has been sent for. Lady Margery will treat with him about costs. But when I asked this morn, before you were sent for, she named the churchyard as his burial place. ’Tis my belief,” he added after a moment of silence, “that Sir Henry was in straitened circumstances.”
    “Ah… I understand. He’s been under your roof, dining at your table, since Ascension Day.”
    “Day after.”
    “Had he said aught about taking himself home?”
    “Nary a word, though I’d begun to hint of it. Gambled a bit, did Sir Henry. Lost often in France, while we awaited battle. He’d wager upon nearly anything; dice, two lads wrestling, which dog would win a fight. Lost ten shillings when he wagered Sir Ralph de Colley that next day there’d be no rain.”
    “There was rain?”
    “Came down in buckets. Sir Henry had little luck when he put his coin at risk.”
    “That’s why he came to Bampton, you think? Because of his poverty he wished to take advantage of your table?”
    “Aye,” Lord Gilbert answered. “And likely why he’ll sleep under the churchyard rather than under the church floor, or in his own parish church.”
    It is no dishonor to be poor. The dishonor in poverty is often found in the manner in which a man becomes poor. Or remains so.
    I wondered that Lord Gilbert would not offer funds to see Sir Henry laid under the floor of the Church of St Beornwald, but there are things even a bailiff finds it injudicious to ask of his employer.
    It was by then past midday, too late to travel to Oxford,seek the sheriff, and return before night, even as the longest day of the year drew near. And Bruce, the old dexter given to my use, has such a jouncing gait that such a journey all in one day would be a torment to my nether portion.
    I told Lord Gilbert that I would take Arthur with me to Oxford, and return next day with the sheriff, was Sir Roger not otherwise engaged. Lady Margery could, with Father Thomas, make plans for her husband’s funeral, and after Sir Roger had seen the corpse, and been shown the damaged ear, Sir Henry might be placed beneath the grass of St Beornwald’s churchyard, there to await our Lord Christ’s return.
    Kate awaited me, hands on hips, lips drawn tight, when I returned to Galen House. She had expected me for my dinner, a chevet, which is a meal I enjoy. Well, as Kate knows, there are few meals I do not enjoy.
    “I left it upon the coals so long, awaiting your return, that it is scorched and gone dry,” she said through pursed lips.
    The subject was troublesome. I thought to change it. “There has been murder done at the castle,” I said.
    “Oh.” Kate put a hand to her mouth. “Sir Henry?”
    “Aye. Found dead in his bed this morning. ’Twas not a natural death.”
    “What has happened?”
    “Some man thrust a bodkin or awl or some such thing through his ear and into his brain whilst he slept.”
    Kate’s eyes grew wide and she shuddered. “I am sorry that I was short with