William's eyes narrowed.
'He's got a rope.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yeah. He's tying it on.'
As they watched, a figure emerged from the shadows. He was wearing a surplice and the top of his head was shaved like a priest. A lot of parish priests wore surplices. Usually you saw black stockings and buckled shoes. This one was wearing green stockings and flared boots. He went over to the baldheaded man who was now hiding behind a pillar.
'Have you tied it properly?'
William recognised the voice and grinned.
'Yeah … don't worry about that, Master Vowell. It has been properly secured as you instructed. I shall now sit here where I cannot be seen and await your signal.'
'And what will that be, Master Draper?'
'A long and melodious fart …'
'That's right, Tom,' the priest laughed. 'It will be music to our ears, even if some folks find it offensive.'
He glanced back along the nave to All Hallows.
'I'd better get back. Our betters have arrived. Lady Margaret Gough, Sir Humphrey bleeding Stafford and half the sodding shire are here. They're going to celebrate Easter Mass in our humble presence. Then they're off to Jonnie Baret's house for a meeting.'
William found a wall at the end of the abbey nave and decided it was a good place to watch the proceedings. Geoffrey called it a pulpitum. William didn't care what it was called. He felt safe there. The wall was over four foot thick. There wasn't much risk of falling off.
Mass in All Hallows ended and the country folk came into the nave from the abbey green. William sensed an air of tension. The men had taken up positions along the central aisle and were exchanging glances. The women were gathered about the font chattering excitedly. It was like being at a tournament before the jousting got started.
The monks were already there. Two overweight men in black gowns stood on the platform and stared directly ahead, trying to ignore the hostile stares of the congregation. One carried a large book and the other had a steel-bound collecting box, fastened to his wrist by a chain. The baldheaded man was crouched behind a pillar, munching on a loaf of bread.
A trumpet sounded and the processional door swung open. Men with pipes stormed out, followed by men with drums and cymbals. They marched down the nave, four abreast, to the applause of the crowd. William was reminded of his grandfather's men, drilling in the manor yard before leaving to fight in France.
Richard Vowell was amongst them. He had fought with his grandfather and William knew him well. The old campaigner strode in front. He was wearing his priest's surplice but looked more like a soldier than a priest. He held a bible in one hand and a trumpet in the other. Reaching the end of the nave, he hurled the trumpet in the air like it was a marshal's baton.