6 February 1124

　　John stared longingly out of the library`s small window. The sky was grey and dreary yet people passed through the palace gate below and into the town of Bath. Coming and going as they pleased. John envied their freedom.

　　The scratch of Adelard`s writing drew John`s focus back indoors and onto the stack of parchment before him. Progress on Godfrey`s Book had slowed to a crawl and John had resorted to consolidating his notes to search for additional clues he might`ve missed. Yet still the text made little sense.

　　"This is impossible!" John cried out, tossing his quill onto the writing desk. It ricocheted onto the floor, the sound reverberating around the Bishop`s small library.

　　"Is it just?" Adelard asked, looking over at John with a hearty chuckle. "The impatience of youth. It`s undoubtedly it`s slower than you`d hoped, but translating a text is difficult work. Let alone from an obscure dialect that no soul speaks. Add in the complex subject matter, then remove the first half of the text and the task seems nigh on impossible. It`s a wonder you haven`t torn out your remaining hair. You`ve done well to get this far. It`ll just take time."

　　Adelard`s compliment cooled John`s frustration. "But how long Adelard? I don`t have time!"

　　"Ha! You`ve got plenty of time, boy! I`m afraid the Bishop has you firmly in his clutches. From where I stand, you`re barely off your mother`s teat and will see many more moons yet. I suspect the Book will take years to fully comprehend, even if it was in Latin."

　　John sighed in resignation. "I`ll still be locked in this room when Godfrey`s cathedral is finished, though with luck we`ll have a new bishop by then. Father Cuthbert will probably still be teaching us initiates. I don`t think death could stop him."

　　"Religious life isn`t such a bad existence," Adelard reassured. "There`s food in the kitchens and a solid roof over your head. Put in a few tough years now and you could escape to a rural parish, out from under the Bishop`s thumb."

　　John pondered the idea. "It doesn`t sound totally abhorrent& I was always destined to become a priest, being father`s youngest. But what I really want is to travel the world, like you."

　　"Ah yes," Adelard said wistfully. "Life on the road is uniquely free. Each day brings a different sight and new people. I can see the appeal to a caged sparrow like you. It`s not easy, mind. There are many long hungry days and danger always keeps you on your toes. I don`t know how you`d fare&the priest life has turned you soft," Adelard poked with a twinkle in his eye.

　　"I could join a Crusade," John countered. "Surely they could use a budding priest to sanctify their journey, in exchange for my passage and a bit of protection."

　　"I don`t know which is funnier," Adelard roared. "The thought of you whipping the masses into a zealous frenzy or scrawny little John armed with spear and struggling under the weight of a shirt of mail. Either way, the Holy Land would fall in days!"

　　They both burst into laughter. Adelard always knew how to lighten the mood.

　　John collected his quill before begrudgingly turning back to the impossible task of cataloguing the unfamiliar words and strange topics locked in Godfrey`s tattered Book. Adelard strolled over and rustled through John`s notes.

　　"What I would give for that other half&" Adelard said wistfully.

　　"What I would give to meet the author!" John rebutted. "How did he learn so much, about so many topics? I wonder who he is?"

　　"A singularly strange man," Adelard agreed. "Why write such a masterwork in English? Surely it would reach a wider audience in Latin, or perhaps Arabic. Even the script is strange. I`ve never seen such perfectly formed characters, repeated identically page after page. Your writing isn`t quite as good but the practice is paying off. Your notes are pristine!"

　　"It`s never enough for Godfrey," John replied grumpily. "This cursed splint doesn`t help either. How much longer must it stay on?"

　　"You want to be certain it has fully healed this time, those guards didn`t hesitate to re-break it," Adelard noted with concern. "I`d guess another week or two."

　　"It could`ve been worse," John said. "Who`d have thought that all those years of fighting my older brothers would help some day. I even managed to give a little back in return," John added with a grin.

　　 "Yes but was it worth it?" Adelard asked, sage as ever. "The Bishop`s guards are brutes at the best of times but now their eyes blaze with bloody murder each time they catch sight of you. I`ve heard them. They hold no love for you. Watch yourse&"

　　As if on cue, the library door burst open and one of the Bishop`s guards strode into the room. He was quickly followed by Godfrey himself, dressed in frumpy formal robes for a busy day of errands. His pompous assistant followed on his heels.

　　"What`s this chatter?" Godfrey barked impatiently. "There`s work to do. You`ve progress to report?"

　　"We were just discussing John`s work to date, Your Eminence," Adelard answered diplomatically. "And pondering the tome`s origin. The author must be a truly unique and knowledgeable man."

　　Godfrey paused, a rare look of mirth in his eyes. "Like no man you`ve ever met, I`d imagine. Novice, show me your work."

　　The Bishop swept over to the desk by the window and peered over John`s shoulder. His clammy breath flowed past John`s neck, making his stomach churn.

　　"Dammit boy!" Godfrey cried, clapping the back of John`s head without warning and making him bite his tongue. A metallic taste filled his mouth. "Those are the same pages you showed me yesterday. I need something new!"

　　Despite his aching tongue, John made to respond but Adelard came to his aid. "We`re reviewing the previous work, Bishop. To confirm there`s nothing we`ve missed."

　　"Very well,` Godfrey said, unconvinced. "Cease the chatter and get back to work, these endless delays are testing my patience." He looked at John. "You`d better have something new when I return this evening. There are others who can speak English."

　　John seethed but Adelard gave a silent look of warning as he ushered the Bishop from the room. "Leave it with us Your Eminence. I was just telling Brother John how laborious translation work can be. But there`s good progress, I`m sure of it."

　　The Bishop grumbled as he was led from the room but didn`t give a backwards glance.

　　Adelard closed the door and John cried out in frustration. "He`s impossible!"

　　Adelard hushed him urgently, a concerned eye glued to the door. "Quiet boy!"

　　They waited until the Bishop`s footsteps had disappeared. Only then did Adelard relax.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author`s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

　　"I can`t do this Adelard," John said, tugging at his sore tongue. "The seminary. This stupid Book. I just want to be home, with my family."

　　Adelard stepped over and gave John a consoling hug. "I understand, friend. Change is hard. Yet it is the only constant in life. Life itself is change. Best to focus on things we can control. Shall we go for a walk?"

　　"No, thanks. I just need some time alone. This is all so infuriating."

　　Adelard understood and gave a consoling look. "It will get better, with time. But have some space, take care and I`ll see you for supper."

　　John cupped his head in his hands as Adelard gathered his things. He heard the door close and waited again for the footsteps to fade away.

　　Then he leapt into action.

　　Godfrey`s casual abuse was the final straw. He needed to leave. For good.

　　John had learned from his previous escape attempts. There would be no witnesses this time. No sack of belongings. He`d memorised the guards movements and knew where they loitered. He had a plan. This time he would break free.

　　John collected his cloak and pocketed what possessions he could, taking trinkets to trade on the road but leaving enough to mask his illicit departure. The righteous voice in his head made him feel guilty for stealing but the wicked voice urged him to take the Bishop`s prized Book too. John considered the greater theft but eventually judged it an unnecessary risk that would only heighten Godfrey`s desperation to hunt him down.

　　With bulging pockets and nothing but the clothes on his back, he set out for Bath`s outer districts.

　　John`s heart pounded as he peered into the corridor, confirming that it was empty before scurrying along the wall like a stealthy mouse. He avoided Godfrey`s grand staircase and instead took the steep servant`s stairs, throwing himself behind an old barrel near the pantry as a pair of monks headed towards the kitchen. The smell of a hearty lunchtime stew made his stomach rumble but John tore himself away, knowing that most of his fellow clergymen would also be drawn by the food and not wanting to waste his opportunity.

　　There was a precious window of time before someone came looking for him. Godfrey would assume that John was diligently at work and Adelard would be gracious enough to give him space.

　　John scampered into the palace courtyard and skirted around its circumference towards the gate, keeping to the shadows to avoid attention and finding a crate from which he could keep watch. He spied Adelard talking in animated discussion with a pair of elderly priests across the courtyard and prayed that his friend wouldn`t be punished for John`s departure. That he would understand John`s need to escape.

　　The courtyard was busy despite the promise of a midday meal and a constant stream of clergymen and servants flowed through the main gate. John watched and waited, growing increasingly desperate as time passed. Godfrey`s guards cast a watchful eye over each passing person and John had little doubt that they had been forewarned to look for the Bishop`s troublemaker.

　　He was still waiting for an outbound group that he could join when a burly farmer entered the gate carrying a large sack. John paid him little attention, cursing his bulk for obstructing the view. But the man headed straight towards John`s shadowy corner and showed no sign of stopping. Not knowing where else to go, John scrambled onto the low rampart of the palace walls and hurled himself against the ground to keep out of sight. The farmer unceremoniously dropped his sack mere feet from where John had hidden and casually exited through the gate.

　　John`s heart was still racing at the near miss when he realised he`d made a terrible mistake. Guards lazily patrolled the ramparts on either side of him, though they were luckily less attentive than their brethren at the gate. John crawled up against the crenelated wall and tried to make himself as small as possible.

　　He prayed for an escape, or just time to think, but a patrolling guard turned and headed back towards John. He was trapped from either side and trapped from below. There was nowhere higher he could go. In desperation, he looked over the wall and judged the distance. It wasn`t so high.

　　The guard drew nearer and John realised he didn`t have a choice. His throat was dry as he crouched onto the ledge and awkwardly lowered himself down using his good arm. He closed his eyes and, with a deep gulp, let go.

　　The fall was over in less than a heartbeat. John landed heavily with a muffled thud but picked himself up and brushed himself off as the guard above passed by without a care. John marvelled at his fortune to survive two near misses and prayed that his luck would hold out.

　　Finally free from Godfrey`s inner sanctum, John refocussed his efforts on escaping the second layer of his hellish prison. Bath`s city walls had four gates. John`s family lived southwest of the town and it was at the southern gate that Godfrey`s men had caught him procuring a horse during his previous escape. John reasoned that the Bishop and his guards would assume that he would head for his family once more. So that was exactly what he did.

　　John darted down back-alleys away from the Bishop`s palace before joining a main street and casually strolling towards the southern gate. He made no secret of his presence, stopping at stores to inspect their wares and greeting familiar faces. He told anyone who would listen of how he`d been asked to collect plants in the southern forests to freshen up the Bishop`s library.

　　The false trail was weak but John wagered that an angry Bishop wouldn`t pause for rational thought.

　　John was about to loop around to the western gate when he spotted the master of the southern stable. The man looked to be on hard times and yellowing bruises suggested that he`d also been punished for his uninvited role in John`s earlier escape attempt. Their eyes met and John snapped still, rooted in place. Then the damnable man started to yell.

　　"Fugitive! That`s the Bishop`s boy, somebody stop him!" He called for his stable boy and hobbled towards John.

　　John saw people turn toward him but didn`t wait to explain. He ran.

　　Fleeing only brought more attention and John heard others join the stablemaster`s pursuit. Hands grabbed at his arms and robes but John tore himself away and ran faster. He wove through the crowd and made for the maze of quieter backstreets, running northwest as though his life depended on it.

　　Tall buildings muffled the shouts of John`s pursuers and he slowed to a brisk walk. Oncoming strangers gave him questioning looks as he rushed by but he tried to even his breath and remain inconspicuous, as much as possible for a tonsured priest with a broken arm. Deciding that the western gate was an obvious place for Godfrey to set up an ambush, John changed course and headed north. Returning to his family could wait, first he just needed to escape.

　　John darted across another main street which prompted fresh cries from his pursuers, spurring John back into a run. He dodged past bewildered onlookers, apologising when he knocked a basket of bread from an old lady`s hands. He wanted to help gather her belongings but the shouts of his pursuers drew closer and John could only manage an apologetic smile.

　　John sprinted down unfamiliar streets, wishing he`d had a chance to explore the city before attempting another escape. He rounded a corner and barged straight into the chest of the city`s Jewish elder. The man`s attendant shouted his disapproval but the Elder met John`s gaze with a quizzical look.

　　Utterly exhausted, John gave a wordless plea.

　　A cry from one of his pursuers echoed down the alleyway. They were getting closer. The Elder gave John a knowing smile and stepped aside to grant him passage, prompting more disapproval from the underling. John didn`t think twice and ran through. When he looked over his shoulder the Jews had resumed their casual stroll and shortly after John heard bickering and shouts as they impeded his pursuer`s path.

　　John`s chest was tight and his robes drenched with sweat when he finally arrived at the northern gate. He was relieved to see that it was calm and news of his escape had not reached the northern walls. John dropped back to a casual walk and stepped into the street. Hiding his sling in his sleeve, he brazenly strolled directly to the gate and stepped through as if it were nothing. He didn`t dare to even breath until he was a stone`s throw from the wall but Bath`s guards remained idle and paid him no attention.

　　Wanting to obfuscate his path further, John clambered down into a ditch and skirted back around the town wall towards the western gate. He joined the steady flow of travellers on the road towards Bristol and breathed easier as buildings faded to empty fields.

　　He fought not to break into a run, though in truth he was physically spent from his dash through Bath. Instead, he maintained his brisk walk and searched for a decent place to hide but there was only an endless patchwork of fields and a sparse scattering of trees.

　　John walked for miles and passed several small villages. He began to enjoy his freedom. The sky seemed brighter and the air fresher. He planned where he might go when he arrived in Bristol and who might be willing to purchase some of his stolen trinkets. He imagined the look on his mother`s face when he returned.

　　John passed through a small forest before reaching another plain of fields. He marvelled at the industry of his fellow man, being able to bend the Lord`s land to the task of feeding the masses. Just another thing to be thankful for.

　　It was then that he heard horses, thundering at full gallop rather than the leisurely clip-clop of regular travellers. John looked over his shoulder and his stomach sank. A trio of horsemen wearing the Bishop`s colours bounded down the road, their eyes firmly fixed on him. John desperately looked around for cover but even the sparse trees were gone.

　　Knowing there would be no escape, he turned and defiantly awaited the inevitable.

　　Godfrey wouldn`t be happy.

　　(C) Jay Pelchen 2023. All rights reserved.