The Crowfield Curse (28 page)

“I'll need to find someone to teach me how to play,” William said. “One day, I'll leave the abbey and make my way in the world as a musician.”

“I can teach you,” the fay said with a shrug, glancing at him. “I taught Bone. I can make a musician of you.”

William grinned. “That will annoy the prior.”

“I know,” Shadlok said with a gleam in his eye. “Fair payment for his dishonesty, wouldn't you say?”

“Very fair. Does this mean you intend to stay at Crowfield for now?”

Shadlok's mouth tightened into a hard line. “I have no choice in the matter.”

William frowned at him, puzzled. “Why?”

It was some moments before the fay spoke. There was a strange expression in his pale blue eyes when he turned to face William. “The Dark King put a curse on me a long time ago. It bound me to Jacobus Bone for as long as he lived.”

“Master Bone is dead,” William said. “Surely now you're free to go wherever you want?”

Shadlok's face twisted with sudden anger. Snowflakes caught in the silver-white strands of his hair. “My curse is to have my fate bound to that of a human until such time as the king sees fit to release me, which I very much doubt he ever will. I am no longer bound to Bone, I am bound to
you
.”

“Me?” William gasped. “Why did he bind you to
me
?”

“He didn't,” Shadlok said. “When the possibility that Bone might finally die became a reality,
we
chose the next human for me to be bound to. We chose you.”

William stared at him, appalled. That was what Jacobus Bone must have meant yesterday in the Hollow when he said, “We chose well, my old friend.” The words echoed inside William's mind. He had been like a pig to the slaughter, not seeing the blade at his throat until it was too late.

“You had no right to do that,” William said angrily. He gripped the flute so tightly that his knuckles went white. “Isn't there some way to break the curse?”

“No. Only your death will free you. You must accept it.” The pale eyes glittered dangerously, daring him to argue.

William felt sick. What if Shadlok grew tired of being bound to him? Would he simply kill him and move on to the next person?

As if guessing what was in William's mind, Shadlok smiled thinly and said, “I cannot harm the human I am tied to, if that is what you are thinking. It is part of the curse that I have to protect and . . . serve this one person. That was why we had to choose carefully.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” William said with feeling, “but you must know that it means you'll have to live here at Crowfield as long as I do.” If that didn't force Shadlok to find a way to break the curse, then nothing would.

“I am only too well aware of that,” Shadlok said grimly.

William felt a flicker of gleeful pleasure at the thought of Shadlok rubbing shoulders with the monks of Crowfield Abbey every day, though he realized that his life was never going to be the same again. Wherever he went, whatever he did, this fay warrior would be at his side. He remembered what Abbot Simon had said, that his path would not be an easy one, but that he'd never be alone. Somehow, the dying monk had seen what was ahead of William and had tried to warn him. Only, there was nothing he could do about it. He would simply have to try to make the best of this strange turn of events.

“Have you asked the prior if you can stay at Crowfield?” William asked.

“This morning, before Bone's burial, but why would he refuse?” Shadlok's voice was edged with contempt. “In return for a bed and two meals a day, which I neither want nor need, I will work from dawn till dusk. The prior knows a bargain when he sees one.”

“What about the rest of Master Bone's possessions? What will happen to them?”

“He left them to the abbey. The prior will most likely sell them along with the lute.”

“I suppose you can't blame him for that,” William said grudgingly.

“I don't. Bone has no further need of them.”

“Then it seems we are stuck with each other,” William said at last. “If you teach me to play my flute, perhaps one day we can leave Crowfield and travel the world together.”

“The prospect fills me with delight,” Shadlok said scathingly.

William made a face. “You have only yourself to blame, you know. You didn't
have
to choose me.”

“No? Perhaps I should have bound myself to the prior, or one of the other monks. At least you are young and have the Sight, and you are as anxious to leave this place one day as I am. You have . . . potential.”

“Does this mean you are now my servant?” William asked with feigned innocence. The look of outrage on the fay's face told him he had hit his target squarely, and he laughed.

“Most amusing,” Shadlok said, scowling. He brushed past William and walked away.

William was still grinning to himself when he set off to find the hob and Brother Snail, to show them his flute. Perhaps being bound to Shadlok might not be so bad after all.

 

Later that evening, when the monks were in bed and silence had settled over the abbey, William sat by the fire in the kitchen, his blanket around his shoulders. The hob sat beside him, tucked under a corner of the blanket. William told the hob everything that had happened that day, from Master Bone's burial to Shadlok's curse. But it was the appearance of the angel in the church that interested the hob the most, and he made William tell the story several times before he was satisfied.

“I am glad the nangel isn't dead,” the hob said sleepily. He leaned against William and settled himself more comfortably.

“So am I,” William said, nodding. “I wonder if we'll ever see it again?”

“I didn't see it
this
time,” the hob said. He had been very put out to realize he'd been busy in Brother Snail's workshop when the angel had come to take the abbot's soul away.

William yawned loudly and stretched his arms above his head. His body ached with tiredness. “Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready for my bed.”

The hob curled up on the mattress. “Nangels and squirrels and snow,” he murmured drowsily, “magic and shadows, roundy-round, all together.”

William smiled and tucked the blanket around the hob. He lifted the
couvre-feu
and placed it carefully over the fire pit, then lay down beside the hob and closed his eyes. Within minutes he was in a deep and dreamless sleep.

WINTER TIMETABLE
FOR DAILY LIFE AT
CROWFIELD ABBEY

2:00 a.m. —
vigils,
first Greater Hour of the Divine Office, then reading and prayer.

Sunrise —
lauds,
second Greater Hour of the Divine Office.

6:00 a.m. —
prime,
the First Hour of the Little Hours of the Divine Office, followed by High Mass.

8:00 a.m. —
tierce/terce,
the Third Hour of the Little Hours of the Divine Office, followed by Chapter Meeting.

Morning — work.

12:00 p.m. —
sext,
the Sixth Hour of the Little Hours of the Divine Office. If the monks were away from the abbey, in fields, they stopped and prayed where they were.

1:00 p.m. —
nones,
the Ninth Hour of the Little Hours of the Divine Office, followed by dinner, then into the church to give thanks for food and to sing Psalm 31: “In thee, O Lord, do I put my trust . . .”

Afternoon —
work
and time spent in cloister or cale-factorium (warming house).

Dusk —
vespers
— third Greater Hour of the Divine Office, followed by reading in cloister, then the eighth and last of the canonical hours,
compline
, warm drink, and to bed.

GLOSSARY

Book of Hours:
a book of prayers, psalms, and holy texts, handwritten and illuminated by monks.

Caudle:
a medicinal hot drink for minor ailments, made with wine or ale, thickened with bread crumbs, egg yolks, or ground almonds.

Cellarer/Cellarium:
the cellarer is the monk in charge of the abbey's provisions and storeroom, or cellarium.

Cesspit:
a pit for garbage and/or sewage.

Chapter House:
a room off the cloister, close to the south door of the church. The monks meet here each day to discuss abbey business and listen to a reading from the Rule of St. Benedict.

Choir:
at Crowfield Abbey, this is the area between the transepts and the east end of the church. Two rows of wooden stalls, or seats, face each other across the width of the choir. The monks sit here during the daily round of services.

Cloister:
four covered alleys or corridors surrounding a central garden or garth, usually situated on the south side of the abbey church. The main rooms of the abbey can be reached from the cloister.

Dorter/Dormitory:
the open-plan room on the first floor of the east range of the buildings surrounding the cloisters, where the monks sleep.

Frater:
a long room where the monks eat their meals. At Crowfield Abbey, the frater is in the west range, between the kitchens and the guest quarters.

Hurdy-gurdy:
a stringed musical instrument. The strings pass over a wheel, which is turned by a crank handle. The wheel acts very much like a violin bow, producing musical notes from the strings. When played, the hurdy-gurdy sounds like a bagpipe.

Maslin bread:
made from a mixture of rye and wheat flour. After a poor harvest, dried and ground peas or beans could be added to the flour.

Midden:
a refuse heap.

Mummers:
mummers and guisers were street performers in towns and villages who dressed up and wore masks and entertained people, usually around Christmas. They cavorted through the streets, singing carols and playing music and sometimes begging for money from door to door. Later on, mummers performed plays that included such characters as St. George, Beelzebub, and Robin Hood.

Nave:
the long, main body of the church.

Pannage:
the practice of allowing pigs to forage in woodland for beech mast and acorns from September to early November.

Parchment/Vellum:
thin sheets of sheep-, goat-, or calfskin used for pages of books or manuscripts. The skin is stretched, scraped, and dried to prepare it. Better quality skins are called vellum.

Pottage:
a cross between a soup and a stew, usually made with whatever vegetables were available. In winter, dried peas were a staple ingredient. Sometimes a little meat or fish would be included. Herbs such as wild garlic, thyme, rosemary, sage, and parsley would be added for flavor and salt for seasoning.

Psalms/Psalter:
religious songs sung or recited as part of
daily worship. A book of psalms is a psalter.

Reredorter:
the monks' latrines or toilets, situated next to the dorter.

Rushlight:
a type of candle made from rushes. The inner pith of the rush is dipped in fat, grease, or beeswax. The pith then acts as the wick when the rushlight is lit.

Sacristy/Sacristan:
the room where the abbey's more valuable possessions are kept locked away. The sacristan is the monk in charge of the sacristy. At Crowfield Abbey, this is one of Brother Snail's duties.