Immediately to the left as they entered the hospital was a small chapel with a window facing onto the street. It was for the specific use of pilgrims, but Hugh noted wryly that it was empty. Despite their recent arrival nobody had thought it necessary to throw themselves immediately into prayer or thankful rejoicing after a safe journey. Heloise led the two knights on into the large refectory, where most of the pilgrims had instead gathered for the comforts it offered. The refectory was brightly lit with cheap tallow candles and rush lights. Hugh felt a rush of warm air from the fire that was crackling on the other side of the room. It was only the beginning of autumn, but the weather had been unseasonably cold, especially for those travelling across the country. He flexed his toes in his worn leather boots, and he reminded himself sardonically that he was no longer a young man.
Loud laughter drew his attention to a group of four people standing close to the fire. Adele stood in the centre, holding court, as three men hung on to her every word and gesture. Heloise turned to Hugh and Richard, her voice hushed.
“You’ve met Adele already of course. The man to her left is her husband Sir Henry Woodville.” Hugh studied the short, balding figure with a leather belt straining to hold in his large girth. It was unsurprising to find such an oddly matched couple, as most marriages were entered into out of practicality and advancement. Heloise’s next comment confirmed this. “I understand that he has a great deal of land in the north, and of course a town house in London. They have a young son, but he was too sickly to make the journey with them. He’s been left with his nursemaid, and they’ve come here to pray for his recovery.” It was hard to imagine Adele as a mother, as her attention seemed devoted solely to making herself pleasing to others.
“Aye, you can understand why they would be willing to travel such a distance. The health and survival of a male heir is of the greatest importance to a wealthy man.” Heloise turned at the interjection made by a deep voice.
“Father, please.” Her tone was weary as if the comment had been made many a time before, but her grey eyes were as bleak as a winter fog as they rested upon the barrel-chested man standing beside her. “Here are two more pilgrims, Father, who will be staying with us. Richard Siward and Hugh Mansel, this is my father, Thomas of Monmouth.” Hugh found himself being studied by a second intense grey gaze. That was however the only physical trait father and daughter shared. Thomas had the recognisable bearing and muscular frame of a knight, though his body had thickened around his middle with age. His thick curly hair was steel grey, but a hint of unaltered ebony remained. Hugh noted the way in which Thomas stood, and guessed it to be caused by a wound of some age to which he had adapted but undoubtedly still caused him pain.
“Knights are you?” Thomas asked speculatively, his tone provoking Richard to answer sharply,
“We’re members of the Earl of Pembroke’s household.” Thomas grunted,
“William Marshal. Now there was a man who knew the right way of things. Ten children he had, five of them sons to inherit his wealth and lands when he died.” Heloise shifted uncomfortably but Thomas continued regardless of his daughter’s embarrassment. “All I wanted was a son. But God did not think it right to grant my prayers. And now the lands that my family have had charge of for generations will go back to the crown.” The last words were almost spat out. Hugh understood the vehemence of Thomas’s feelings, for his own father had owned estates on the Welsh March. The Welsh Marcher lords valued highly their independence and were loath to lose it.
“Your daughter could marry and provide an heir to your lands, sir. All does not have to be lost.” Hugh spoke before he had thought through the full meaning of his words. Heloise flushed at his comment, but Thomas merely stared hard at Hugh, his eyes alight with interest. Richard watched the exchange with something akin to amusement, before responding to the desperate glance from his friend.
“Would it be possible to find this Brother Benedict? I’m in need of a good drink and some dry clothes.” Heloise grasped the opportunity with a grateful smile and replied readily,
“Yes of course, forgive me. He’ll be in the undercroft with his patients I expect. I’ll take you too him directly.”
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