Read The Leper's Return for Free Online Page A

apprentice voided entrails into a little stream, while another knelt downriver rinsing lights and offal ready for sausages. The stench was that of the tanners, an unwholesome odor, and as they walked on, Ralph found himself passing cobblers and cordwainers, fullers and weavers. The town had an enviable busyness.
    But the almoner was not taking Ralph to see workers about their business; he was leading the monk to his new post, and they passed through the crowds thronging the streets and out to the other side of the town. As if apologetically, the almoner began to speak of the leper house and the various inmates.
    “We have space for twelve, but we rarely have that number. We’re not as large as Tavistock, there they always have their places filled.” He almost sounded regretful, as if it was an insult to Crediton that the town didn’t manage to have a full complement. “Mind, I suppose it means our expenses are lower than theirs.”
    “It must be costly to keep the lepers.”
    “Well, yes, it can be. The church looks to the upkeep of the buildings, and not only the Chapel of St. Lawrence’s and your lodgings, but the lepers’ own rooms—and then there are the pensions as well. We provide two pennies per person per week. That’s without thinking of the other charitable works we have to undertake on their behalf—finding cloth for them, extra rations of food during fairs and festivals and so on.”
    “It must be a drain on your resources,” Ralph said. He knew full well that almoners often looked on the money they handed out as their own.
    “It is, but not so bad as you might think,” the almoner responded, and touched the side of his nose. “The good Bishop has been very generous, and increased our revenues. He’s granted the town two more fairs, and we get one-tenth of all tolls, so that makes our finances easier to manage.”
    “That was good of him.”
    “I think the Bishop has always had a soft spot for us here. The collegiate church has benefited since our precentor agreed to annually commemorate Bishop Stapledon’s birthday. That’s on February the first. And when the good Bishop dies, we will solemnize the anniversary of his death each year.”
    Ralph nodded. “It’s only right that a great man like him should have the comfort of the prayers of the canons to assure his entry into heaven.”
    “Of course. And the Bishop has done so much good work, he surely deserves to be remembered. More than some of our chivalry.”
    The cold tone of voice warned Ralph that the almoner was one of those who disapproved of modern knights. Too many members of the knightly classes disregarded their duties these days and spent their time in slavish adherence to foppish modern fashions. It had been a shock to many in the country, after the years of austere dress under King Edward I, to find that the new King’s courtiers preferred to spend their fortunes on fripperies rather than on more sober items of clothing. Now parti-colored tunics and hose were common, and it was hard to tell a man’s position from his apparel. Even peasants could be seen dressing in furs like a lord. Ralph observed quietly, “There should be laws to stop people wearing things that are above their station.”
    “I agree. Even among our own ranks there are some who go about as if they were simply merchants. I have heard of men in the cities—brother monks!—who put on velvet and cloth of gold, and sometimes even go abroad bearded! Only last week I was told that in Bristol, monks have been seen without the tonsure!”
    Ralph let his companion’s scandalized voice carry on. He too had spoken to travellers who talked of strange goings-on in other parts of the kingdom, but for the most part he was unmoved by the rumors. He had travelled all the way from Houndeslow, and everywhere he had paused he heard tell of other monks or friars who behaved badly, but had seen no evidence of it himself. In any case, he had more important things on his mind.