The False Virgin Read Online Free PDF Page B

(Streanæshalch), housing both nuns and monks in AD 657. Unlike St Hilda’s abbey, the Lythe monastery had fallen into ruins long before the time of the
Prologue and only the church remained in use.
    From AD 793 there were an increasing number of Viking raids on the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria. The raiding parties often targeted churches and monasteries,
because of their rich store of gold and silver treasures, but raids increased dramatically from AD 835 with a full invasion being launched in AD 865.
In AD 867 the Vikings destroyed the abbey of St Hilda in Whitby. The Vikings settled and eventually converted to Christianity, burying their dead at Lythe and building a
wooden church on the site. This church was replaced with a stone Norman church after 1066.
    During the remodelling of St Oswald’s church, Lythe in 1910, builders discovered that thirty-seven carved stones from a much earlier period had been built at random into the later Norman
church walls and buttresses. Two of the stones have been dated to the eighth century. These carved stones were restored in 2007 and are now housed in a permanent display at the beautiful St
Oswald’s church.

 
Act One
    I
    Whitby Abbey, Winter 1199
    It was a pity that Reinfrid and Frossard were friends. Reinfrid was clever, and might have risen high within the Benedictine Order if Frossard had not been there to lead him
astray with mischief; and Frossard might have accepted his lot as a lay brother if Reinfrid had not been constantly telling him that a son of Lord Frossard, albeit an illegitimate one, deserved
better than life as a labourer.
    One bleak evening, when a bitter wind turned all to ice, the two young men chanced to meet in the monastery grounds. It was Reinfrid’s turn to prepare the church for compline, while
Frossard had been charged to clean the stables.
    ‘The abbot has been vexed with us ever since we let that pig into the scriptorium,’ said Frossard, chuckling at the memory of scribes scurrying around in dismay while the greedy
animal feasted on finest vellum. ‘So I have a plan that will take his mind off it.’
    Reinfrid brightened. Life had been dull since their last escapade, and his quick mind chafed at the strictures of a cloistered existence. He had never wanted to be a monk, but as the youngest
child of an impoverished knight, he had been given no choice. His unhappy situation was what drew him to Frossard – the solidarity of two youngsters whose lives were blighted by circumstances
of birth.
    ‘It concerns Beornwyn,’ Frossard went on, ‘the virgin killed by sea-pirates up in Lythe three and a half centuries ago. She was chopped into pieces, and her flayed corpse was
found covered in butterflies the following day.’
    ‘She is not a saint,’ said Reinfrid, haughty in his superior knowledge. ‘The Church does not recognise her, and Abbot Peter deplores the fact that pilgrims visit her
shrine.’
    ‘Yes, and do you know why? Because it means they do not spend their money here. He would be the first to acknowledge Beornwyn if her bones were in his abbey.’
    Reinfrid laughed. ‘So what do you suggest? That we steal them for him?’
    ‘Yes.’
    The blunt reply made Reinfrid’s jaw drop. ‘But that would be impossible! They are watched day and night. We would never get near them.’
    Frossard smirked. ‘Oh, yes, we will. I met two of the guards yesterday, and we got talking. They are on duty tonight. They mentioned a liking for wine, so I sent them a flask – and
in it is some powder from old Mother Hackness, which will make them sleep like babies. All we have to do is walk to Lythe, collect the relics and bring them back here.’
    Reinfrid raised his eyebrows archly. ‘And present the abbot with stolen property? I doubt that will go down very well!’
    ‘We shall say that Beornwyn appeared to us in a dream and told us to fetch her. The fact that the guards slept through her removal will be proof that we acted with her