In a flash, the guard hurried off and the monk smiled after him. Then he turned a scowl on the other guards who quickly turned away and minded the slaves.
The monk was a rotund man dressed in the usual brown robe. His robe was made of wool with a different, although similar shade of brown down the middle, obviously added to accommodate his growing size. He seemed not at all bothered by the rain and even left his attached hood off his head exposing a touch of gray along the sides of his dark, tied back hair. He was comfortable on his mule, would have difficulty mounting it again and so stayed where he was.
It seemed a long time before the guard brought his commander. Meanwhile the rain stopped, the monk got a good look at the men and by the time the perturbed commander arrived, he was furious. "Cleanliness be next to Godliness, have ye not heard? They need to bathe and bathe weekly. And when was the last time they had a fit meal? What do ye give them to eat, a chunk o' bread? God said, 'Man shall not live by bread alone and ye well know it. They are to build a bridge, not die where they stand for lack o' sustenance. When the Pope hears about this…"
At the verbal thrashing, the commander was visibly shaken and could think of nothing to say but, "Stop the work!" He did not even notice that the slaves had already stopped and the other guards were afraid to yell at them.
"That's more like it. Now, let them bathe. Ye've a river for it, do ye not?"
"Aye."
"See they wash their clothing as well. I dare not think what sort o' creatures live in soiled clothing. Cleanliness be next to Godliness and ye well know it!"
"Aye, they will wash their clothing."
The monk was far from finished and narrowed his eyes. "I see, and did ye bring soap for the lads?"
The commander could do nothing but bow his head. "Nay, father, but…"
"And blankets for the lads to wrap up in while their clothing dries."
"Aye and blankets."
"And a fit meal?"
"Aye, but…"
"Ye can plainly see I am not resting this Sabbath, nor will ye, not until ye have seen to the needs o' these lads. Yer striker there has injured one o' them and I required medicine for him. See to it. And another thing, since ye neglected their day o' rest, they will rest tomorrow as well. When the Pope hears about this…"
The commander turned his horse and raced back toward the bridge. When he was out of sight, the monk smiled. "Sit down lads, God did not ordain that tired lads should stand when they can sit just as well." But the slaves hesitated looking to the guards for permission. "They lay a hand on ye and I'll see they are sent to the gallows." That seemed to do the trick and the slaves gladly sat down.