The funeral for Walter Earl of Locksley was taking place on the fifteenth of September, three days after he was found dead in a field a few miles from his manor.
Robert was dressed in his finest clothes, newly laundered and pressed by Goodwife Falwort. He rode among the scattered line of town councilmen and prominent craftsmen of Nottingham out to Locksley Manor. Men from as far away as Leeds had made an effort to appear at the earl’s funeral, including three barons who were close enough to hear the news of his death and find enough time to make it to his Nottinghamshire estate.
The day was warm and pleasant and the sun high in a bright blue sky when the sheriff rode through the gates of Locksley Manor. Benches were set up in front of the small chapel in the back of the manor house for the most elderly attendants of the ceremony. Abbot Hubert was standing with Brother Tuck and several other monks near the doorway of the chapel.
Robert had been at the manor every day since the accident. The day before the funeral, he had helped with the digging of the grave and the wrapping of Walter’s body. He always imagined that he would be in a distant land some years in the future when he heard of Walter’s death. It would be an abstract thought that he could easily tuck away and ignore quickly when it came to mind. Yes, Walter was dead, but all men die so it is not unexpected. Walter lived a long life full of comfort.
But that is not the way he could view it now. He had seen plenty of dead men in his life, but outside of his father, mother and brother, he had not truly loved anyone who had died.
He loved Walter. Not like he loved his father or mother or even brother. Walter was a friend, an advisor and a counselor. In Walter he had found a moral center, someone who had taught him what nobility was. A noble man is one who took care of those in his charge to the best of his ability.
Robert hoped he one day could live up to that ideal. He was not nobly born, but he felt that with the example of Walter he could see the path that any man could take to achieve a noble nature even if he never held the title.
The sheriff left his horse with the stable men who waited to care for the animals and walked over to the small, but growing, crowd near the chapel. He recognized most of the people there, and those who were new to his eyes had the look of high-born men and their retinues.
Marian was talking with a group of women, all dressed in expensive clothes, near the high-born strangers. As Walter did not have a female relative near, Marian had taken on the role of hostess. She worked diligently over the last few days to make sure that the proceedings would go smoothly and Walter’s last event was as proper and orderly as it should be.
Robert spotted Jack and David standing in the shade of an apple tree and walked over to join them. The ground was clear of the fruit that was starting to fall, so Robert reached up and picked an apple from a low hanging branch. He leaned against the apple tree and took a bite into the sweet fruit.
“Have you seen the visitors?” asked Jack.
“Yes, it seems that the Earl had quite a few friends from everywhere,” said Robert.
“I mean the ones in the barn,” replied Jack.
“The barn? What do you mean?”
“They came last night, ten in all. Monks in black robes with their hoods up and all without a word,” said David. “Ballard said they have taken a vow of silence and won’t say a word to anyone. The abbot went to see them earlier and they wrote out a message to him on a slate one of them carries. He didn’t seem too impressed when he came out of the barn.”
“Do you know anything about them? Where they are from?” asked Robert.
“I tried to speak to them,” said Jack. “They just wrote your name on their slate.”
