A Summer of Discontent

‘What will you do with this knowledge?’ asked John nervously. ‘Will you tell the Bishop and Prior Alan? Or will you give me until sunset to leave with my few belongings? I know what they do to traitors, and I do not want to be an example for other would-be rebels. You would not wish the execution of a priest on your conscience, would you?’

‘I think you will find that de Lisle and Alan already have some inkling of Leycestre’s plans, although I doubt they also know about the burglaries. You must do what you think is right, but I will not tell the priory or the Bishop of your involvement, if that is what you want.’

‘And what do you demand for your silence?’ asked John tiredly. ‘I have no money — anything I have goes to feed the poor these days. I could say a mass for you at St Etheldreda’s tomb before I leave.’

‘I would like some information,’ said Bartholomew, gazing up at the priest. ‘Does Leycestre intend to break into the priory tonight?’

John nodded unhappily. ‘And now I am a traitor to both sides! If Leycestre ever learns I told you this, he will kill me.’

‘Is he the kind of man who kills, then?’ asked Bartholomew, very interested in this revelation. ‘Is Leycestre the murderer who has been taking the lives of his fellow citizens?’

‘I do not know,’ said John in a whisper. He glanced around him fearfully. ‘Really, I do not! The possibility has crossed my mind, because he is so determined that his rebellion will be a success, and the men who have died are folk who were not interested in joining him.’

‘Chaloner, Glovere and Haywarde were against the rebellion?’ asked Bartholomew.

‘They just did not care one way or the other. And because of their apathy, I thought Leycestre might have decided they were better out of the way. But then monks died, and now I am not so sure.’ He saw Bartholomew look sceptical, and he raised his hands in earnest entreaty. ‘Please, believe me! I really do not know the identity of this killer.’

Bartholomew decided the priest was probably telling the truth, and supposed that Leycestre and his cronies did not confide in him because he was nervous and the kind of person to fall at the first hurdle — which was exactly what he had done. He charged John to say nothing to Leycestre about the fact that his plan to raid the priory had been anticipated. The priest nodded acquiescence, then informed Bartholomew that he was planning to leave Ely anyway, and that he would do better in another city.

‘But you have been here for years,’ said Bartholomew, surprised that the priest had made plans to abandon the people he professed to love, even before he knew his part in Leycestre’s rebellion had been discovered.

‘It is time for a change,’ said John quietly. ‘I shall be on the road by this evening and will not return.’ He said farewell and then was gone, hurrying through the shadows towards the door, which he fled through without bothering to close it behind him. The sound of children playing nearby drifted in, along with the agitated bark of a dog, which was probably part of their game and wished it were not. Bartholomew stared at the gate for a long time before he uncoiled himself from the foot of his column and stood up.

Bartholomew walked slowly around the cathedral, thinking about what he had learned, and wondering when the legacy of the Death would loosen its grip on his country. The life of a peasant had not been easy before the plague, and there had been a shortage of land that had meant bread was expensive. But it was ten times harder after the Great Pestilence had swept through England, and now it seemed as though it would precipitate a rebellion that would plunge huge tracts of the country into a state of anarchy. Men like John saw that the cause was just, and were torn between siding with the people for whom they cared and staying on the right side of the law, while men like Leycestre were preparing for a war without considering the fact that their actions could make matters worse.

The sun was beginning to dip red in the afternoon sky when Bartholomew realised that he had been walking in circles for at least an hour, round and round inside the cathedral. He was at the rear again, near the pillar where he had met John, when he decided he had better stop and do something more productive than analysing his country’s economic problems.