The Abbot's Agreement by Mel Starr Page A

him spoke softly, the lass would have heard little.
    “I heard John greet a man,” she continued, “and there was a reply.” The maid swallowed and choked upon her tears, then resumed her discourse. “I heard only whispering. ’Twas as if John and the other feared that some other man might hear their words.”
    “You think the other fellow knew that you were in the shadows?”
    “Nay. He did not seek for me after…” The maid’s sobbing again overwhelmed her words. “After he murdered poor John.”
    “If the fellow had known you were hidden in the wood he might have slain you as well,” I said. “If the felon was not your father.”
    “If ’twas dark and moonless,” Arthur said, “how do you know ’twas not your father who stabbed the novice?”
    “’Twas not his voice I heard,” Maude replied.
    “But you said they spoke softly, so you could not hear their words,” I said.
    “They became angry,” she said, “and began to speak so I could hear.”
    “What was said?”
    “John said, ‘I will never do so.’”
    “What did the other man say in reply?”
    Maude was again wracked with sobs, but eventually gained control of her voice. “‘You leave me no choice,’ the other said. Then, ‘Do not turn from me when I speak to you.’”
    “And this was when the man spoke loudly enough that you knew ’twas not your father?”
    “Aye.”
    “What then?”
    “Nothing more was said. All was silent for a long time. I thought perhaps John had returned to the abbey. I was about to leave my hiding place when I heard a thump, then a cry, and then more blows. A moment later came a splashing from the pond, then all became silent again.”
    “What did you then do?”
    “I dared not move from my place. I knew someone had gone into the water, but not who. I was too affrighted to leave the shadows for half of an hour. But when I heard no man move or speak I took courage and approached the pond.”
    “Did you see anything there?”
    “Aye,” she sobbed. “A man floated in the pond. I feared it might be John, and was about to draw up my cotehardie and wade out to the man when I heard footsteps and whispered conversation. I fled back to the shadow of the wood.”
    Maude seemed to find courage as she related the tale. Her sobs interrupted less frequently.
    “Two men came and drew a corpse from the pond?” I asked.
    Maude nodded. “I could see little, but heard some of their whispers. One man said, ‘Where shall we take him?’ The other said, ‘It need not be far.’”
    “Did you know then ’twas John Whytyng who was slain?”
    “Aye,” Maude said. “Even though the men spoke softly, I knew that neither was John… so the corpse in the pond must be him.”
    “You told no one of this,” I said, “’till now?”
    “I could not. I wanted to. To do so would place me together with a novice in the dark of night.”
    “Why did you do such a thing?” I asked.
    “John wished to leave the abbey and return to his father. Said he was not suited for a monk’s life.”
    “What did he intend? Did he speak of it?”
    “He had no prospect of lands,” Maude said. “He thought to travel to Oxford and become a scholar… study law or some such thing.”
    “And call for you when he had completed his studies?”
    “Aye,” Maude whispered. “So we planned.”
    Whether or not John Whytyng would have kept this bargain no man can know. Maude is a comely lass, but there are other fair maids. Some inhabit Oxford, although one the less since I married Kate and took her from the town. A few pretty maids may have the prospect of lands, which increases their beauty manyfold. I did not know if Maude was likely to inherit property or not. Her mother had mentioned a sister. If the lass had brothers or not I did not then know. I soon discovered that she did not, and her lack of brothers might have done more to ensure John’s return than her pretty face ever could.
    I now knew what had happened the night John Whytyng