The Pardoner's Crime Read Online Free Page B

followed his master with alacrity. He was not so much aware of the blood, as the fact that the women of Wakefield seemed uncommonly attractive.

CHAPTER 2
Trouble at the Bucket Inn
    A lbin of Rouncivale was feeling pleased with himself. Things had been going well for him ever since his venture in Pontefract, following the execution of the Earl of Lancaster. He had spent a highly profitable week in the town and only left when the local priest had actually offered him physical violence for poaching on his territory. The fat, useless fool! He had no idea of how to feed off the wages of sin, unlike himself. He guessed that he had seen and counselled more of the Pontefract folk than ever ventured into his church in a month of Sundays. And at that he had laughed, for he called every day a sinday , and Sunday just an extra big day to harvest the crop of sinners, perverts and those who were contemplating sinning.
    From there he had meandered around the hamlets and villages of the Honour of Pontefract, setting up a temporary pulpit in each and then retiring to the local inn or hostelry where he was usually able to obtain a back room or an outhouse to receive the sinful. And he grinned at just how many of them there were. Enough to make him a rich man some day, he hoped.
    Eventually, he had come to Wakefield, which seemed to be a veritable den of iniquity, incest and just plain ordinary dishonesty. In fact, a place no different from anywhere else in King Edward’s realm. Except that it boasted a market, aregular fair and the prospect of a great deal of trade as the feast of Corpus Christi approached, when the town guilds would be putting on the Mystery Plays that the town prided itself upon. Yes, he reflected, there was much to look forward to.
    â€˜Good day, Master Pardoner,’ cried one of a group of five maids who were busily treading laundry in a trough at the back of one of the great timber-framed houses behind the parish church of All Saints. ‘Are you preaching or pardoning this day?’
    â€˜A little of both,’ he said with a smile, turning in his saddle and waving the cross that he had balanced against his shoulder, like a pikestaff. ‘But you already bought a pardon from me yesterday, didn’t you?’
    â€˜I did. But I think I might need another after what me and my man got up to last night.’
    She was a comely, buxom girl, as indeed were the others. They worked away, showing off their legs and arms as they trod the linen of the great house in the trough of urine and lavender, giggling merrily among themselves.
    â€˜Perhaps I shall be seeing you later then,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I shall be preaching near the Bull Ring this afternoon .’
    â€˜We might all be there, Pardoner,’ cried the forthright one again, and they all trilled with suggestive ribald laughter.
    Albin of Rouncivale grinned and stroked his smooth beardless chin. Yes, the wenches of Wakefield seemed to be a healthy bunch with good appetites in matters pleasurable.
    He coaxed his donkey towards the Bull Ring, where the bull-baiting was held every fair’s day, but which now was packed with temporary market-stalls. He threaded his way through the throng then passed the all but deserted square by the Tolbooth, which served as the town goal, and the nearby Moot Hall. The town stocks and pillory were in the middle of the square. A miserable, unkempt-looking fellow plastered with rotten vegetables and dung was sitting there, with hisfeet ensnared by the great hinged boards. Beside him was a flask of water and a crust of bread. He looked up beseechingly at the sound of the donkey’s feet.
    â€˜Bless me, Father?’ he asked.
    Albin of Rouncivale stared at him then slowly shook his head. A cruel smile passed over his thin lips. The fool had committed a crime and he was being punished. That was only right. After all, if he was stupid enough to get caught, that was his problem. The Pardoner made a