no desire to know of it.
Gerard lives with his wife and grown sons across the street from the Church of St Peter. I remembered the place well, for on a dark night a year past Thomas atte Bridge had lain in wait for me behind the church wall and clubbed me upon my skull when I peered through the lych gate. I did not know at the time who delivered the blow, or who it was I had followed from Bampton. Indeed, at the time and for some hours after I knew nothing at all.
I found Gerard hobbling about in his toft, where were stored coppiced poles and a few beams cut from trees which had fallen in winter storms. There is little need, since the plague, for cutting timber for construction. Many houses lie empty; why build new? But should a tree fall, it is wise to hew it into beams and saw it into planks rather than allow it to rot upon the forest floor. I was pleased to see that Gerard, or his sons and nephew, had been active in this work. And coppiced poles will always find use: houses need new rafters when the old decay, fences must be maintained, and firewood and charcoal burning will consume what may remain.
Few trees, Gerard said, had fallen in the winter past, and those which did I saw now before me hewn and sawn in Lord Gilbert’s wood-yard, drying under a crude shed. Deer were plentiful, Gerard reported, and when Lord Gilbert returned to Bampton at Lammastide he would find good hunting.
While we spoke Richard and a youth I did not know entered the toft with a bundle of new-cut coppiced poles carried between the two on slings. The poles were placed to dry upon a rack already near full with the product of their labor.
The day was grown warm. Richard wiped sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his cotehardie and eyed me with, I thought, some suspicion. I had caught out his brother poaching Lord Gilbert’s deer a year past, which would have been reason enough to end the family’s tenure as verderers to Lord Gilbert. This, as bailiff, I could have done, and there were some who aspired to the post who wondered that I did not. But Gerard had served Lord Gilbert well and, so far as I knew, so had Richard. Their worry would guarantee Walter’s future good behavior, so I thought. Nevertheless, my appearance in Alvescot now always drew apprehensive furrows across the family brows. This is not a bad thing. A man unsure of his position will work more diligently.
I turned to leave Gerard, my duty complete, when the man spoke again.
“Heard about Thomas atte Bridge hangin’ hisself,” he said.
“So all believe,” I replied. My response caused Gerard to peer at me with puzzled expression. He understood, I think, that I did not include myself in the words I spoke. I had tried to keep disbelief from my voice. To dissemble is a competence much desired among bailiffs, I think. Perhaps one day I may achieve it.
I stepped from behind Gerard’s house and saw two figures approaching with another load of coppiced beech poles slung between them. It was Walter, Gerard’s younger son, and another youth unknown to me, who turned with their burden into the yard. Walter saw me and averted his gaze, as well he might, poacher of Lord Gilbert’s deer as he once was.
Here was another man with reason to dislike Thomas atte Bridge. With the aid of a scoundrel priest atte Bridge had learned of Walter’s poaching and blackmailed the verderer’s son for a portion of the venison he took. When Thomas was taken with the flesh he readily implicated Walter as his source, for which misdemeanor Walter was fined sixpence at hallmote. But for Thomas’s admission Walter might never have been found out.
I watched as Walter and the youth dropped their poles beside the drying shed, and as I did Gerard and Richard stared at me, then Walter.
“Your father,” I said to the perspiring Walter, “tells me deer are plentiful in Lord Gilbert’s forest.” I said this with head cocked to one side and a crooked grin warping my lips. I wished to put the man at
Gerard lives with his wife and grown sons across the street from the Church of St Peter. I remembered the place well, for on a dark night a year past Thomas atte Bridge had lain in wait for me behind the church wall and clubbed me upon my skull when I peered through the lych gate. I did not know at the time who delivered the blow, or who it was I had followed from Bampton. Indeed, at the time and for some hours after I knew nothing at all.
I found Gerard hobbling about in his toft, where were stored coppiced poles and a few beams cut from trees which had fallen in winter storms. There is little need, since the plague, for cutting timber for construction. Many houses lie empty; why build new? But should a tree fall, it is wise to hew it into beams and saw it into planks rather than allow it to rot upon the forest floor. I was pleased to see that Gerard, or his sons and nephew, had been active in this work. And coppiced poles will always find use: houses need new rafters when the old decay, fences must be maintained, and firewood and charcoal burning will consume what may remain.
Few trees, Gerard said, had fallen in the winter past, and those which did I saw now before me hewn and sawn in Lord Gilbert’s wood-yard, drying under a crude shed. Deer were plentiful, Gerard reported, and when Lord Gilbert returned to Bampton at Lammastide he would find good hunting.
While we spoke Richard and a youth I did not know entered the toft with a bundle of new-cut coppiced poles carried between the two on slings. The poles were placed to dry upon a rack already near full with the product of their labor.
The day was grown warm. Richard wiped sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his cotehardie and eyed me with, I thought, some suspicion. I had caught out his brother poaching Lord Gilbert’s deer a year past, which would have been reason enough to end the family’s tenure as verderers to Lord Gilbert. This, as bailiff, I could have done, and there were some who aspired to the post who wondered that I did not. But Gerard had served Lord Gilbert well and, so far as I knew, so had Richard. Their worry would guarantee Walter’s future good behavior, so I thought. Nevertheless, my appearance in Alvescot now always drew apprehensive furrows across the family brows. This is not a bad thing. A man unsure of his position will work more diligently.
I turned to leave Gerard, my duty complete, when the man spoke again.
“Heard about Thomas atte Bridge hangin’ hisself,” he said.
“So all believe,” I replied. My response caused Gerard to peer at me with puzzled expression. He understood, I think, that I did not include myself in the words I spoke. I had tried to keep disbelief from my voice. To dissemble is a competence much desired among bailiffs, I think. Perhaps one day I may achieve it.
I stepped from behind Gerard’s house and saw two figures approaching with another load of coppiced beech poles slung between them. It was Walter, Gerard’s younger son, and another youth unknown to me, who turned with their burden into the yard. Walter saw me and averted his gaze, as well he might, poacher of Lord Gilbert’s deer as he once was.
Here was another man with reason to dislike Thomas atte Bridge. With the aid of a scoundrel priest atte Bridge had learned of Walter’s poaching and blackmailed the verderer’s son for a portion of the venison he took. When Thomas was taken with the flesh he readily implicated Walter as his source, for which misdemeanor Walter was fined sixpence at hallmote. But for Thomas’s admission Walter might never have been found out.
I watched as Walter and the youth dropped their poles beside the drying shed, and as I did Gerard and Richard stared at me, then Walter.
“Your father,” I said to the perspiring Walter, “tells me deer are plentiful in Lord Gilbert’s forest.” I said this with head cocked to one side and a crooked grin warping my lips. I wished to put the man at
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