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Back Margery Kempe Save as PDF
Chapters (69)
  1. Cover
  2. Biographical Notes
  3. Title Page
  4. INTRODUCTION
  5. MARGERY KEMPE
  6. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  7. Dedication
  8. Front
  9. PART ONE
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. 5
  15. 6
  16. 7
  17. 8
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. PART TWO
  27. 17
  28. 18
  29. 19
  30. 20
  31. 21
  32. 22
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. 25
  36. 26
  37. 27
  38. 28
  39. 29
  40. 30
  41. 31
  42. PART THREE
  43. 32
  44. 33
  45. 34
  46. 35
  47. 36
  48. 37
  49. 38
  50. 39
  51. 40
  52. 41
  53. 42
  54. 43
  55. 44
  56. 45
  57. 46
  58. PART FOUR
  59. 47
  60. 48
  61. 49
  62. 50
  63. 51
  64. 52
  65. 53
  66. 54
  67. 55
  68. 56
  69. MY MARGERY, MARGERY’S BOB

“Well, friar, you can escort her to him.”

•

Later she was led into the Archbishop’s chamber. A green arras was worked with the image of three girls. His prostate ached after a strangely painful shit. Green fustian blankets covered his legs and his sheets were embroidered with dots and tendrils.

The friar came forward. His nose cast its shadow to one side. The friar saw himself as especially cooperative. He asked questions, but he was so eager to be right that he substituted the answer he wanted to hear. The Archbishop said, “Now say while she is present what you said when she was not present.”

“Shall I?”

“Yes,” said the Archbishop.

“You advised my Lady Greystoke to leave her husband, and she is a baron’s wife, and daughter to my Lady of Westmorland.”

They all turned to Margery. “I told her about a lady who gives her sweetheart a collection of miniature books—and they are delightful in his castle library. He decides to collect more and when she sees he has chosen larger volumes she runs crying from the room; her sleeves fly out and strike both sides of the doorway.”

The Archbishop was laughing and angry. His steward and household threw out their hands. “Let her go—if she ever comes back we will burn her ourselves.”

“No woman in England was ever so treated as she is.” To Margery the Archbishop added, “I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Let me have your letter and seal, and let Thomas bring me to the river.” The Archbishop returned her purse, amazed at the money it held. Actually, Margery had lost her fortune traveling with Jesus and needed supporters to give her money. Like most poor people, she carried all her savings with her.

•

Thomas and Margery passed a rickety nag pulling an empty wagon; its owner was a ghost who clung to a spoke to keep from spilling into nothingness. They heard bloodhounds and boarhounds barking and a hunter blowing the mort. A red-faced apothecary ate spiders as greedily as nuts because he was crop sick. The long grass was green except, oddly, along the bank of the Humber where it was brown.

Thomas left Margery there, taking the Archbishop’s letter with him. The oarsman’s shadow stood on the river’s surface.

43

Margery returned to Lynn where a man threw a bowl of water on her head as she walked down the street.

•

She had dysentery; she couldn’t hold a spoon; she wandered around her room on hands and knees, hiding from stabbing pain that wrung endless cries from her while searing diarrhea exploded down her thighs. It took all her concentration to breathe. White clumps of pus formed at the back of her throat; an appetite would have been ironic since she couldn’t swallow her spit.