Free New Blood From Old Bones by Sheila Radley Page B

along the street, the poor were beginning to emerge from the precinct. Hungry, ragged, old and not so old, foul-smelling, crippled, blind, they came jostling out through the gatehouse clutching their dole. Those who lived in the town scurried with the bounty as fast as they could to their hovels. The rest of them fell-to by the wayside, tearing ravenously at the food and quarrelling over fallen fragments.
    â€˜Lord!’ observed Ned Pye with scorn, ‘here’s a feast indeed! I trust the monks, with their solemn vows of poverty, are enjoying a herring apiece for their dinner too. Not to mention the prior and his guests … He must live in a poor lodging, if this humble gatehouse is anything to judge by!’
    His master was too preoccupied to reply. Ned stopped to stare at the imposing two-storey building, with its great central archway, through which a good road led down across grassland to the grandeur of the priory. The gatehouse had been built within the past thirty years, of red bricks ornamented with lozenges of blue, and dressed with stone. A row of carved shields on the north face bore the arms of the priory’s royal and noble benefactors. In all, it was larger and much finer than the Acklands’gatehouse would ever have been, even at the height of the castle’s power.
    â€˜A simple place, i’faith …’ concluded Ned. But his master had ridden on, past the gatehouse and down the long slope that led to the bridge over the river, and Ned had to gallop after him.
    From the gatehouse on, there was no one on the road at all. Ordinarily there would be many comings and goings, for the road served the tithe barn, the mill, and the warehouses fronting the wharf, but these were all owned by the priory and were out of use in honour of St Matthew’s day.
    â€˜This is the quickest way to Lynn,’ Will told Ned Pye when his servant caught him up, ‘either by road or by river. Thanks,’ he pointed out, ‘to the priory which did all the building.’
    â€˜Thanks?’ said Ned. ‘I’ve heard few thanks in the town! What with tolls to pay for the use of the bridge, and charges for grinding corn at the mill and loading merchandise at the wharf, there’s many a Castleacre man holds a grudge against the priory.’
    â€˜Oh, aye,’ said Will, dismissive for once of his countrymen. ‘They always grumble against the priory, but any other landowner would irk them just as much. They can’t see what great prosperity the monks have brought to Castleacre over the centuries. If we, the Acklands, still owned all the land here, we could never have built the bridge, nor the mill, nor the wharf. Without the wealth of the priory, and the crowds of pilgrims it brings, this would be a poor little town.’
    Ned did more of his meaningful whistling, but his master ignored him.
    They had come to a place where the great wall curved back, making room for carts to turn. Within the wall and overshadowing it stood the tithe barn, fully as long and as high as the nave of the parish church.
    Access from the road to the barn was through a wide gateway in the wall, but today the iron-bound oaken gates were closed and barred. The bailiff’s dwelling could still be reached by going through a postern. Will led the way, ducking as he rode through, and then on past one end of the tithe barn, scattering fowls that were pecking up spilled grain. The barn towered above them, with its stone walls, its massively downsweeping thatched roof, and its three gabled entrance bays, each of them tall enough to allow a high-laden cart to be driven through.
    â€˜Hah!’ snorted Ned Pye. ‘Here’s another grumble against the priory. Small wonder, when every man sees a tenth of his produce swallowed up in that great maw!’
    Will rode on. Anxious to assure himself of his brother’s innocence, he galloped along the narrow path that led across rough pasture to the