requested food and drink to be brought to him. He and Snipe returned to their upstairs lodgings, Douglas to study some more Latin in preparation for the evening’s conversation—an activity he expected to tax his linguistic powers to their utmost—and Snipe to sleep in preparation for tonight’s vigil.
Then, just after sunset, the two ley travellers donned their outer robes once more and went out to meet Master Bacon at the Bear. They crossed an all-but-deserted square—now occupied only by a few old women gleaning morsels from the detritus and garbage heaped at the street corners, and some mongrel dogs snuffling through the refuse in the gutters. Ignoring their beggarly imprecations, Douglas hurried to the inn, paused beneath the torch above the door, and with a last warning to Snipe to be on his best behaviour, lowered the hood of his cowl and went inside. The interior was a fog of smoke and steam and the scent of the beeswax candles that lit the room, casting everything in a warm amber glow. He stepped to the serving hatch and procured a pie, then turned to get the measure of the place. There were tables of assorted sizes scattered about the large central dining area served by a wide, deep, and glowing hearth where spitted meat roasted, cauldrons gurgled, and bread baked; three smaller rooms opened off the main room, each containing a single long table and benches. In one of these snugs they found Roger Bacon, surrounded by a bevy of students—sallow-faced striplings with straggly beards and long tousled hair, some wearing their scholars’ robes, others dressed more informally in dark satin jerkins and tunics. All clutched jars of ale, and they rose as one to greet the newcomers.
“Pray you, do not stand on our account,” Douglas told them. “Please, sit and take your ease.” Posting Snipe at the door with the pie, he took the seat offered him at the end of the table.
“Our friend is visiting from Tyndyrn Abbey,” the professor informed his audience. He poured another jar and pushed it along the table to Douglas. “He comes seeking enlightenment. Is this not so?”
“Verily, that is the purpose of my visit,” replied Douglas. He noticed the twitch of the students’ eyes as they darted glances to one another when he spoke. He guessed the cause and swiftly moved to disarm any mistrust, adding, “Before we converse further, I will apologise for my lack of learning and the crudeness of my speech. I was not brought up to the Latin of my betters. I was born and raised on the Isle of Man. Whatever learning I possess, I acquired late in life and through the instruction of those but little better informed than myself.” He gazed steadily around the table and concluded, “I am sorry if my speech offends you, brothers. I humbly beg your indulgence.”
“Nonsense!” cried Roger Bacon. “All scholars are pilgrims on the same journey. Some may have set foot to the path the sooner, and so have advanced a little further.” He, too, passed his gaze around the gathering. “As a pilgrim people, we do not presume to hold judgement over one another, but accept all like-minded travellers in our company as friends for the journey.”
The students, subtly chastised, ratified this sentiment with hearty cheers and thirsty quaffs of beer, hailing the newcomer in their midst.
“My thanks,” said Douglas, wiping his mouth on his sleeve in imitation of his companions. “I am your servant.”
“Since our company is complete,” said the master, “let us break bread together and commend our converse to the Almighty, may our erudition bring him glory.”
“Amen!” cried the students. “To supper!”
Three of the more junior members were dispatched to the kitchen to collect the food and bring it to the table. They trooped off noisily, returning shortly with a collection of crockery filled with roast meats, small loaves of bread, and a variety of vegetable porridges. Wooden spoons were passed around, and they all fell to with a will. Douglas was glad he had remembered to bring along a knife of his own since, in an age where everyone was expected to furnish his own cutlery, the hospitality of the inn did not extend past the communal wooden spoons.
The meal soon settled into a convivial hum presided over by Master Bacon, and Douglas observed the manners and culture of his fellow diners. The camaraderie was genuine and seemed deep, as was the esteem in which they held their renowned professor. When Friar Bacon spoke,