The Sons of Montfort by David Pilling

Author:David Pilling [Pilling, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-06T16:00:00+00:00

“Patrem immense maiestatis,

Venerandum tuum verum unicum filium

Sanctum quoque paraclytum spiritum

Tu rex gloriae Christe…”

The deep-voiced harmony swelled, filling the great church with a wash of sound. It just as swiftly ebbed to a soft, insistent murmur.

Benedict spread his arms wide. “Welcome,” he boomed. “Bring forth the invalid, that he may be healed by the power of the blessed saint.”

He watched, grimly patient, as the sick man was carefully helped down from his horse. Two burly tradesmen helped him into the church, while the rest of the crowd hung back, overawed by their surroundings. The invalid was unable to walk, his feet scraping limply against the flagstones.

You will be a cripple indeed by the time I’ve finished with you, thought Benedict. Fool! Are none of my servants capable of following orders?

The so-called burgess of Newcastle was another of his agents. Benedict had picked out this man from the stables. For a commoner with no education, he was unusually intelligent, and quick-witted to boot. The abbot knew a potentially useful servant when he saw one. He was trained to help spread the cult of Saint Simon throughout the north, under strict instructions to inform Benedict before he did anything.

Now his former groom had acted without license. The man was clearly getting ideas above his station, and would have to be chastised. Severely chastised. So severely, in fact, he may not recover. It was the Lord’s will.

Benedict had to admire his servant’s skill at play-acting. His appearance of sickness was most convincing. Doubtless he had swallowed some drug or draught to make himself ill.

The abbot sighed inwardly. It would be a shame to dispose of such talent.

Orders must be obeyed, he told himself. Examples set.

Now the false burgess was on his knees before the sacristan. The chorus of male voices was a persistent murmur in the background. Reverently, the sacristan lowered the cushion to the floor and opened the box. He was another fraud, versed in the art of fooling peasants with fake miracles and the threat of Hellfire.

When the lid was opened, a great cry went up from the mob in the doorway. They fell to their knees, even the mayor. One man fainted on the spot. At a nod from Benedict, he was carried away to the infirmary by a couple of novices.

The former groom did his master proud. Trembling, wide-eyed in mock awe, he bent down to kiss the holy foot of Simon Montfort. Severed from the great man’s body at Evesham and brought north by his grieving friend, Baron Vescy, it was now in an advanced state of decomposition, little more than a greenish lump of rotten flesh, stinking and foul. Nevertheless, the man pressed his lips against it.

He recoiled – as well he might – and put a hand to his throat. For a moment Benedict thought he was going to overdo it. God and the Saints, the abbot silently pleaded. Let him not start speaking in tongues, or foaming at the mouth.

Instead the invalid waved away his minders and stood groggily, trembling like a newborn calf.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.