Postscript

Hawkenlye Abbey 27th March 1194

The King was back.

News came quite quickly to the Abbey because Josse had been involved in the triumphal receptions prepared for Richard at Rochester and Canterbury, culminating in the state entry into London on 23rd March.

Knowing that everyone within and on the fringes of the Hawkenlye community would be avid to know the latest news, Josse made sure to make frequent return visits to the Abbey. The King, he reported, looked fit and well; Queen Eleanor looked happy but very tired. Along every mile of the King’s progression from Sandwich, where his party had landed on 12th March, people lined the streets and cheered; it was a fine display of wholehearted welcome for a returning monarch.

But, as Josse confided in the Abbess, now sitting up in bed and quite clearly desperate to be allowed up, the joyful celebratory mood had not in truth come about spontaneously. It had been a major part of Josse’s job — and that of his companions also summoned to assist in the arrangements for the homecoming — to whip up a bit of enthusiasm in a cynical population among whom the prevailing mood was resentment at the terrible privations forced upon them by the ransom demands.

However, a king was a king and a magnificient, colourful spectacle had its own way of raising the spirits. Cheering was apparently even more infectious than the foreign pestilence that had so recently devastated Hawkenlye and, in the end, Josse was quite sure that King Richard must have believed his people were overjoyed to see him back and reckoned the unbelievably high price they had had to pay for him was money well spent.


On the night of 23rd March, Josse arrived at the Abbey with incredible news. The King and his mother were to embark on a round of visits to abbeys where there would be services of appreciation for Richard’s safe return and where the King would take the opportunity of thanking the religious communities that had prayed so hard for his delivery. He was to visit St Albans, Bury St Edmunds and. . Hawkenlye.

Josse had half-feared to deliver the announcement since he was worried by what such anxious excitement would do to the convalescent Abbess. But he had reckoned without her calm confidence; on expressing the careful sentiment that she must be sure not to overtire herself, she said, ‘Sir Josse, Hawkenlye Abbey has entertained royalty before. Queen Eleanor has been a frequent visitor and, as I am quite sure you will recall, Prince John also stayed with us not so many years ago. We shall do our best to make the King welcome and that will have to suffice.’

Her recent close brush with death, he reflected ruefully, seemed to have increased her serenity; as the day of the visit approached, he wished he had her steely nerves.


The morning of 27th March dawned bright and dry. The Abbey looked as if every inch had been scrubbed, buffed and polished. The new building in the Vale was completed just in time; Catt had done a magnificent job. It was a long, low building, simply but stoutly made, and Catt had been meticulous in the details so that the room was well insulated and would be practical and easy to keep clean. He had finished it off with straw thatch; the roof was a joy to behold.

Many of those who had been cured of the sickness either remained at or came back to the Abbey to attend the great service of thanksgiving. The King might not know they’d had a narrow escape, they reasoned, and he might be under the impression that the thanks were for his release. But it didn’t matter, the people reasoned, because they knew and — much more importantly — so did God that they were really giving thanks for their own deliverance.

Some families had been torn apart by the sickness, but, as compensation, in some cases new families had been formed. A strong young woman who had brought in and lost her father adopted an orphaned child and a crippled boy. A young merchant took pity on a widowed bride and promised to take care of her. When Waldo was eventually able to take his little brother and his baby niece back home to the house in Hastings, Catt had undertaken to make sure the children got safely home. And Catt himself appeared to cast rather a lot of glances in the direction of the strong young woman. .

Nobody, it seemed, would be able to forget the brush with death; those who survived would perhaps find life the sweeter for having come close to losing it.


The arrival of the King was a moment that none who witnessed it ever forgot. He was magnificently dressed in white trimmed with scarlet and rode a fine black horse. Queen Eleanor, veiled against the dust of the roads, wore a dark cloak over a gown as golden as summer sunshine. Mother and son alike glittered with fine jewels; it was as if the King were stating plainly that he might have suffered the ignominy of imprisonment but look, everyone, here he was as strong, splendid, regal and rich as ever.

The thanksgiving service went on for a long time. Josse stood in his place among the King’s men watching the Abbess in an agony of anxiety; she had only got out of bed two days ago and he was so afraid that today would prove too much for her. But Sister Euphemia stood on one side of her and Sister Tiphaine the other; they could be trusted, he told himself, not to let harm come to her.

The service was followed by a feast, modest in comparison to what the King must surely be used to but, as the Abbess had calmly said, the best that the community could offer. The King seemed satisfied; he was as usual, Josse observed, too busy talking to pay much attention to his food but he did seem to enjoy the wine.

The King and Queen Eleanor were escorted down to the Vale to look at the new building. The King exclaimed on the magnificent thatched roof and Catt was commanded to step forward as the craftsman who had made it. Watching him, Josse was struck with the dignity of the man; not in the least overawed, he answered the King’s questions briefly and politely with no hint of nerves.

He’s rightly proud of his work, Josse thought. And probably Catt, like the Abbess, had been too deeply affected by the recent past to be unduly discommoded by the presence of royalty.

And I bet, Josse concluded, that King Richard can’t lay thatch to save his life. .


The wonderful day came to an end; the royal party rode off to seek out their night’s lodgings down in Tonbridge Castle and peace descended.

Josse would be leaving too the next morning; he was part of the escort that would see the King and Queen Eleanor safely up to Nottingham, where they were to hold a meeting of the Great Council.

‘Will you come back and tell us what transpires?’ the Abbess asked as he took his leave of her in the morning.

‘Aye, that I will,’ he agreed. ‘Although I do think, my lady, that I should first pay a visit to New Winnowlands; I have been absent for a long time.’

‘Of course,’ she agreed. ‘Just as long as I know that you won’t desert us, Sir Josse.’

Oh, I won’t do that, he thought as he rode away. Not now I know that every piece of my heart is now held captive here.

Turning his thoughts to the exalted company in which he would spend the next few days, he kicked Horace and cantered off on the road to Tonbridge.


Загрузка...