ordinary parish priest... I was chaplain to the Bishop of Ely.'
Raffe whistled through his teeth. He could see now why the little man was nervous. It had been the Bishop of Ely along with the Bishops of London and Worcester who, on the instructions of the Pope, had laid the sentence of Interdict on England when John had refused to consent to the appointment of Stephen Langton as Archbishop of Canterbury. John would revel in an opportunity to take his vengeance on any man in the bishop's circle that he could lay hands on. And a chaplain would surely know if the bishop had any dark little secrets that John could use against him to win his cause. This might be an insignificant little man in the Church's eyes, but to the king he would be a prize catch. And John's methods of encouraging reluctant men to talk were legendary in their exquisite cruelty even for a son of Anjou.
'So why didn't you stay safely in hiding?' Raffe asked him.
The priest shivered. 'They arrested my housekeeper. She was with child and her family could not afford the fine to get her released. She feared for her life and her unborn babe, so she told John's men where I might be found.'
Raffe barely suppressed a smile. Doubtless the babe was of the priest's getting. Everyone knew that a priest's housekeeper was in most cases the priest's mistress too, which is why John had arrested as many of them as he could, knowing that would make the priests smart even more than seizing their possessions. Usually they were released, but not until a hefty fine had been imposed to swell further John's denuded coffers. But in this case his men must have discovered to their delight that they'd caught a swan instead of a sparrow in their trap.
The priest leaned forward. 'Are you able to help me? I have money to pay for the passage.'
So not all of the missing church silver had found its way into John's coffers, Raffe thought. The priests had doubtless made sure they didn't flee empty-handed.
'I'll need money in advance to pay the river boatman to take you to the ship and the lads who can bring word of a ship.' Seeing the priest was about to argue, Raffe added, 'A steward's wages don't stretch to all the palms that have to be greased.'
'How do I know you won't just make off with it?' the priest said suspiciously.
'You'll have to trust someone, or cool your heels here till the Interdict is lifted, which could be months or even years, for John's in no mood to surrender to the Pope.'
The priest hesitated, then shrugged in a sullen gesture of acceptance. 'So does that mean you'll help me?'
Raffe stroked his beardless chin and studied the man closely. 'Do you swear on the Blood of Christ that what you've told me is the truth? That is the only reason for your flight to France?'
The priest crossed himself. 'By the blessed Blood and Body of our Lord, I swear it. What other reason could I have?'
Raffe snorted. 'To aid England's enemies?'
'Never, on my life!' the priest said indignantly. 'I am a priest, not a traitor.'
'There're many who have been both,' Raffe said. 'But I will help you get away. No, not so fast, wait.' He held up his hand to forestall the man's thanks. 'There is something you must do for me first.'
'I cannot say a secret Mass, I have no host or any —'
'A good, brave man, Lady Anne's son, Gerard, lies unburied at the manor. He died without rites for no priest could be found in these parts who would come to his deathbed. Before you leave for France you will come and bless his resting place and anoint him.'
'But if he died in sin,' the priest protested, 'I cannot anoint him. The Church does not allow —'
'I said he died unshriven, but not in sin.'
The priest waved his hand impatiently, indicating that they were one and the same. You may rest assured I will pray for him, and if you can get me safely to France I will say Masses daily for his soul in recompense to you for your services. Shall we agree three months of Masses for a safe passage?'
He squealed in alarm as Raffe suddenly reached across and grabbed the front of his tunic. 'You will come to the manor and give him unction, or I promise you will never set foot on French soil.'
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