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Read Online [Roger the Chapman 06] - The Wicked Winter by Kate Sedley - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Sedley
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such a powerful effect upon the monks of Woodspring that I was able to leave them after only three days, and I set out before first light this morning in the certain knowledge that Father Prior would have no more trouble with them. I have been walking steadily ever since, stopping for neither meat nor drink.'
In that case, I reflected, it was small wonder that he appeared to be in the last stages of exhaustion, for he had now been nearly eight hours on the road without food or rest. He must have passed Lynom Hall only a short while before I quit it, and for most of the way been less than a half-mile ahead of me. I could have caught up with him sooner had he tired more quickly or had I not stopped to speak to Ulnoth. I was sorry, for even his company would have been a welcome relief from the tedium of a winter journey, when there were so few fellow travellers to be met with.
I offered him my arm, saying, 'We can at least walk the last half-furlong together.'
But he spurned my proffered support.
'God will provide all the strength I need, Chapman. When that fails me, I shall know the time has come to prepare for death.'
His words made me remember Ulnoth.
'Do you recall passing a boulder house, some mile and a half back, just after you turned westwards from the Woodspring track?'
Friar Simeon shook his head. 'I look neither to left nor right when I am walking, but keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead, towards that place where God has called me next. Why do you ask? What significance does this boulder house have? Is there a lost soul there who is in need of my ministrations?'
'No, no!' I exclaimed hastily as the friar paused, ready to retrace his steps if necessary.
As we descended the last few yards to Cederwell Manor, I explained as well as I could my connection with Ulnoth and what he had said to me during our second brief meeting this afternoon. But Friar Simeon made nothing of it, merely hunching his thin shoulders.
'We are all of us concerned with thoughts of death, Chapman. Or we ought to be if we are wise. For the one thing we can be sure of from the cradle onwards is that we shall die, and we must see to it that we are always in a state of spiritual grace, ready to meet our Maker.'
Threading our way between two or three of the outbuildings, we found ourselves at last in full view of Cederwell Manor. This was of somewhat curious construction, with what I later discovered to be the great hall and, behind it, the servants' quarters, built at an angle to the entrance passage and kitchens. The barn stood opposite the main porch on the other side of a wide courtyard and a fish pond, and beyond that the land stretched, empty and desolate, towards the estuary. Only a few feet of ground separated the back of the house from the lee of the cliff which rose, steep and barren, behind it. A strange, remote spot, even, I guessed, in summer; a place in which there was plenty of time to brood on real or imagined wrongs and ills.
A little earlier it had stopped snowing, but suddenly it began again, more heavily than before, falling in sudden flurries from an iron-grey sky. The wind, too, had strengthened so that the air was a mass of dancing, whirling flakes, biting and stinging every exposed part of the body until the skin burned under their touch. Hurriedly I led the way round to the back of the house where, against the angled wall, a flight of stone steps led up to a narrow, slate-tiled gallery and two doors which opened into the second storey.
But it was the ground-floor room, whose shutters opened on to the cliff face and now stood wide in order to let out the steam and smells of cooking, which focused my attention. I rapped on one of the shutters as I passed the window, entering the door alongside and finding myself in the main passage which ran the whole length of the house. An archway immediately to my left led into the kitchen.
At first glance this seemed to be full of women, all arguing vehemently with one another. A
In that case, I reflected, it was small wonder that he appeared to be in the last stages of exhaustion, for he had now been nearly eight hours on the road without food or rest. He must have passed Lynom Hall only a short while before I quit it, and for most of the way been less than a half-mile ahead of me. I could have caught up with him sooner had he tired more quickly or had I not stopped to speak to Ulnoth. I was sorry, for even his company would have been a welcome relief from the tedium of a winter journey, when there were so few fellow travellers to be met with.
I offered him my arm, saying, 'We can at least walk the last half-furlong together.'
But he spurned my proffered support.
'God will provide all the strength I need, Chapman. When that fails me, I shall know the time has come to prepare for death.'
His words made me remember Ulnoth.
'Do you recall passing a boulder house, some mile and a half back, just after you turned westwards from the Woodspring track?'
Friar Simeon shook his head. 'I look neither to left nor right when I am walking, but keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead, towards that place where God has called me next. Why do you ask? What significance does this boulder house have? Is there a lost soul there who is in need of my ministrations?'
'No, no!' I exclaimed hastily as the friar paused, ready to retrace his steps if necessary.
As we descended the last few yards to Cederwell Manor, I explained as well as I could my connection with Ulnoth and what he had said to me during our second brief meeting this afternoon. But Friar Simeon made nothing of it, merely hunching his thin shoulders.
'We are all of us concerned with thoughts of death, Chapman. Or we ought to be if we are wise. For the one thing we can be sure of from the cradle onwards is that we shall die, and we must see to it that we are always in a state of spiritual grace, ready to meet our Maker.'
Threading our way between two or three of the outbuildings, we found ourselves at last in full view of Cederwell Manor. This was of somewhat curious construction, with what I later discovered to be the great hall and, behind it, the servants' quarters, built at an angle to the entrance passage and kitchens. The barn stood opposite the main porch on the other side of a wide courtyard and a fish pond, and beyond that the land stretched, empty and desolate, towards the estuary. Only a few feet of ground separated the back of the house from the lee of the cliff which rose, steep and barren, behind it. A strange, remote spot, even, I guessed, in summer; a place in which there was plenty of time to brood on real or imagined wrongs and ills.
A little earlier it had stopped snowing, but suddenly it began again, more heavily than before, falling in sudden flurries from an iron-grey sky. The wind, too, had strengthened so that the air was a mass of dancing, whirling flakes, biting and stinging every exposed part of the body until the skin burned under their touch. Hurriedly I led the way round to the back of the house where, against the angled wall, a flight of stone steps led up to a narrow, slate-tiled gallery and two doors which opened into the second storey.
But it was the ground-floor room, whose shutters opened on to the cliff face and now stood wide in order to let out the steam and smells of cooking, which focused my attention. I rapped on one of the shutters as I passed the window, entering the door alongside and finding myself in the main passage which ran the whole length of the house. An archway immediately to my left led into the kitchen.
At first glance this seemed to be full of women, all arguing vehemently with one another. A
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