Free The Abbot's Agreement by Mel Starr Page A

church tiles might be, spoke.
    “’Twas unseemly to speak of a lass as John did,” he said.
    When he fell silent, I prodded him to continue. “Why so?”
    “John often spoke of comely maids he knew, in Wantage, before he came here,” Osbert said.
    “How did such talk lead to Maude atte Pond? Had he met the lass?”
    “She and one of her father’s servants are hired to wash our clothes,” Osbert said. “After John saw her once he contrived to be nearby on Monday mornings when she came to the laundry.”
    “He made conversation with Maude?” I asked. To Brother Gerleys I said, “You permitted this?”
    “I did not know of it,” the monk said through thin lips. Turning to the novices, he said, “Why did you not speak of this improper behavior?”
    Osbert and Henry were again silent. “They stick together,” Brother Gerleys grumbled, “even when ’tis to protect one who has belittled them.”
    “How long past did John begin to seek the lass?”
    “He’s not been here long. ’Twas before Lammastide, I think,” Osbert said.
    “What, then, did he say of the lass which was ‘unseemly’?” I asked.
    Henry sat red-faced, staring at his fingers. Osbert answered.
    “John teased us that we’d never kissed a maid, nor ever would. I said there were other things important, especially if a man wished to look upon the Lord Christ when he passed from this life.”
    “What did John reply?”
    “Said as how I’d change my view of what was worth a man’s notice if I ever kissed a lass. I asked how he could know such a thing, and he began to boast of the maids he’d kissed.”
    “And one of these was Maude atte Pond?”
    “Aye,” Osbert replied. “Said her kisses were the sweetest he’d ever known.”
    “But… but how could such a thing be?” Brother Gerleys spluttered.
    “The key,” I reminded him.
    “Ah.”
    “And ’twas as John was explaining the delights of Maude atte Pond’s kiss that Brother Gerleys came upon you and heard Henry say to John that he should not speak so freely of a lass?”
    Osbert silently nodded agreement to my conclusion. Henry remained stolid, speechless, and flushed.
    “Did you never ask John how he knew Maude atte Pond’s kisses were honeyed?”
    “Once,” Osbert said. “He would not say… just smiled.”
    “He left the abbey in the night to meet the lass,” Brother Gerleys said. “Was that what he was about when he was slain?”
    The small footprints in the mud where we had found John Whytyng’s boot and pouch came to my mind. Were these the marks of a maid, rather than a lad? It seemed possible. Had Maude’s father learned of previous trysts beside the fishpond and followed her? Had he been so angry at finding the lass with a novice from the abbey that he plunged a dagger into the youth three times? As I sat across from Osbert and Henry I began to think my investigation of John Whytyng’s murder nearly complete.
    Arthur’s bulky shape darkened the door behind the novices as these thoughts passed through my mind. He was not smiling, and when he saw that his arrival had caught my eye he shrugged and rolled his eyes. I was unsure of his message, but was convinced it betokened no good thing.

I had learned what I could from Osbert and Henry of John Whytyng and comely maids, so excused myself, nodded from Arthur to the door, and led the groom from the novices’ chamber. We had walked but three or four paces from the door when we heard Brother Gerleys begin to speak of misdeeds and contrition and chastisement. Osbert and Henry, I thought, would not much enjoy the next few days, even though ’twas John Whytyng who had transgressed the Rule. Aye, for not informing Brother Gerleys, Osbert and Henry had also flouted the Rule and would suffer for it. Perhaps a night upon the cold tiles before the church altar was yet in their near future.
    “Nobody in the reeve’s house heard anyone out in the night after curfew,” Arthur said. “You’d think they was all deaf.