Free The Crowfield Curse by Pat Walsh Page A

wide and Prior Ardo stood there. William caught a glimpse of the abbot’s room. A fire burned on the hearth and shadows flickered across the lime-washed walls. A large wax candle stood in an ornate silver holder at the foot of the bed, where Abbot Simon lay propped up on pillows. His skin was a sickly yellow and hung loose on his bones, and his eyes had sunk back into their sockets. His lips were ringed with blue and his breathing was a harsh rasp above the monotonous flow of prayers from the two monks kneeling by the bed. William stepped back, repelled by the cloying smells of sickness, sweat, and incense.
    â€œWhere are they?” the prior asked briskly, nodding for William to go ahead of him down the stairs.
    â€œIn the yard with Brother Gabriel.”
    The prior handed William the two keys. “Unlock the doors and light the candles. I will go through the kitchen and meet them in the yard. Be quick, boy.”
    A fire had been burning in the guest chamber fireplace all day but it had barely taken the chill off the room. William unlocked the yard door and left it ajar while he lit the rushlights in their brackets around the walls.
    The yard door opened and Prior Ardo ushered Jacobus Bone into the room.
    â€œWe are a small house and not used to guests,” the prior said, frowning around the drafty chamber. He stared at the two men for a few moments as if trying to decide what to make of them. “Firewood and water will be brought to you each morning, and your meals will be served in here. If there is anything else you need, Brother Gabriel will see to it.”
    Master Bone inclined his head in a slow nod of acknowledgment. “Thank you for the water and firewood,” he said, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper, “but my servant, Shadlok, will prepare my food.”
    Prior Ardo looked a little startled. “As you wish. We can give you flour and vegetables, and carp from the fishponds . . .”
    â€œThat will not be necessary,” the man interrupted. He sounded weary and the strength seemed to leave his body. Shadlok stepped forward and took his arm. He guided his master to the chair beside the fire.
    â€œMy servant will provide whatever food we need.”
    â€œVery well, if that is what you would prefer,” the prior said, glancing at Brother Gabriel and raising his eyebrows. William could almost hear his thoughts. What food could he possibly hope to scavenge around Crowfield in the winter? There was little enough to feed the monks as it was.
    â€œMaster Bone needs to rest after the journey,” Shadlok said. He stared at the prior until the monk took the hint.
    â€œWe will leave you to get settled,” Prior Ardo said stiffly. “The boy will see to your horses.”
    The monks left the room and William walked over to the yard door.
    â€œWait, boy,” Master Bone said, without turning in his chair. He sat awkwardly, his body bowed forward. His breathing sounded labored.
    William paused with his hand on the door latch.
    â€œCome closer, into the light.”
    William walked back to stand in front of Master Bone. The man’s eyes glittered through the holes in the mask, and seemed to be the only thing about him that was fully alive.
    â€œWhat is your name?”
    â€œWilliam Paynel.”
    â€œHow old are you?”
    â€œFourteen years, last Easter.”
    â€œAre you an oblate?”
    William shook his head. Oblates were children given to religious houses, to be brought up in the ways of the abbey or nunnery. Thankfully he had been spared that fate. “I was orphaned and taken in by the abbey. I’m a servant.”
    He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. The heat from the fire warmed his legs, a painfully pleasant feeling. He wanted to turn and hold his hands out to the flames, to feel the aching chill leave his bones.
    â€œDid your family live in Weforde?” Master Bone continued.
    William frowned, wondering