Five days later, at sunset-time, he came to a village set in a gently wooded valley, and asked for shelter for the night.

30

The village was no more than a huddle of peasants’ huts, but it boasted an ale-house, in front of which a couple of men were sitting with horns of beer.

He halted his horse and gave them good evening. One of them, a simpleton seemingly, merely stared and mumbled, but the other, an older man, returned the greeting civilly, setting his horn aside and getting to his feet.

“Are you the landlord?” asked Alexander.

“I am, sir.”

“As you see, I’ve come a fair way today, and my horse is weary. Can you give me food and a bed for the night?”

“As to that, sir, meaning no offence, but my house is not for such as you –”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Alexander, who was tired, spoke impatiently. “If you’ve bread and ale, and fodder for my horse, that will do. I can pay.”

He made as if to dismount, but the man came forward to his bridle. “Stay, sir. I said I meant no offence. I’ll give you shelter willingly if you want it, but if your horse has another half-mile in him, there’s food and lodging just a ways down the valley yonder, that’s fitter for a young lord such as yourself.” He pointed. “That way. You see yon big stone cross standing? Well, turn off there, and follow the track along by the oak wood and you’ll come to it. It’s a monastery, St Martin’s they call it. It’s a good house – a great one, you might say, and all sorts of folks get lodging there. They have a grand place for travellers. I know it well, for my son works there, a gardener he is, name of John, and works with Brother Peter himself.”

“I see. Well, my thanks. I’ll go on there. Half a mile, you said?”

“No more than that. Hark, you can hear the bell now. That’ll be for vespers, but the porter’ll be at the gate, and they’ll make you welcome.” He stepped back. “And don’t think you’ve missed the evening meal, neither, young master! They’re used to folks coming at all hours. Why, it’s only last week a great party came in not much short of midnight, noble folks they were, with a gift that’s fairly set the abbot up as high as a cock on a roof-top!”

“And what was that?” asked Alexander, not because he wanted to know, but because the fellow so obviously wanted to tell him.

“Why, a great treasure, by all accounts, some sort of relic, they say, that’s been brought over from foreign parts, and holy with it! Brother Peter told my John all about it. He’s not seen it yet, but he says that soon, maybe at the next feast day, as soon as they’ve settled on a place fit to house it, which they’ll be able to do, having one of the finest carvers working there in the chapel this past year or more, and him already started, so Brother Peter says, on a shrine that’s to hold a statue, that’ll do well enough to keep this precious cup safe, as long as it stays in St Martin’s –”