The Minstrel's Malady (Sandal Castle Medieval Thrillers Book 5) by Keith Moray

Author:Keith Moray [Moray, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2024-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

13

Cawthorne Priory

Two days later Hubert was given the task of riding to Cawthorne to deliver Rupert Bisley into the care of Prior Dominic at Cawthorne Priory. Hubert led the way on the ten-mile journey, riding his horse, while the minstrel had been given a donkey. Beside them, walking steadily with a stout staff, was Friar Simon, who had been only too happy when Richard asked him to accompany them to the priory. He had declined the offer of a donkey, replying that his maker had furnished him with two good legs.

Over the two days that the minstrel had spent in the Tolbooth cell, he had only had one further seizure, which was attributed to the efficacy of the medicine that Doctor Flynn had compounded. Both Hubert and Friar Simon had visited him several times, and on each occasion Rupert was in good spirits, demonstrated by the fact that he was contentedly playing either his lute or his shawm and singing either traditional songs or ones that he had just composed.

He had entertained the other prisoners, of whom there were six, and their jailors. Hubert thought him to be a merry fellow.

‘So, do you think these religious brothers and sisters will cure me of my malady, Hubert?’ Rupert asked as they wended their way through Barnsdale Forest.

‘I hope so, Rupert.’

Friar Simon was less reticent. ‘I am sure that they will be able to drive the demon from you, my son.’

Rupert pursed his lips. ‘If it is truly a demon, Friar. I am not so sure, because I have had this horrible affliction since I was a child.’ He gave a shrug of resignation. ‘Yet I have managed to live as well as I can. Music and song help, which is why I have chosen the life I have as a wandering minstrel.’

Friar Simon laughed. ‘There is much to be said for wandering, my son. I was a soldier when I was but a lad and fought in many a battle, just as good Hubert of Loxley here has done.’

‘As has my master, Sir Richard Lee,’ interjected Hubert. ‘He took an arrow in his leg at Boroughbridge in 1322. He was a sergeant-at-law already, but it was after the battle that King Edward the Second made him the judge of this Northern Realm.’

‘Then I like Sir Richard even more,’ said Rupert. ‘He showed me kindness, rather than tossing me in prison or putting me in the stocks or pillory to be pelted with dung or stones until I had another fit or died.’

‘Sir Richard is a wise judge,’ Friar Simon agreed with a nod.

‘But that doctor did not think I have a demon — he wanted to open my head.’

Hubert clicked his tongue. ‘Doctor Flynn is a good doctor, whom Sir Richard holds in high esteem. I also know that he is greatly skilled. If those at the priory are not successful, then he may still have to open your head.’

‘He will not need to, of that I am sure,’ said the friar.

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