Strata Florida-A tale of the Grail

By RD Le Coeur

In 1538 a group of monks set out from Glastonbury Abbey to deliver into safety a holy relic.
As the Abbot watches them go, little does he suspect that come November, he will be dragged on a hurdle to the top of Glastonbury tor and then hung drawn and quartered for treason.
Strata Florida, a story of deceit, lust and adventure.

A fascinating journey of discovery both for the reader and the pilgrims set during the Tudor reformation.
Well researched and unobtrusively woven into the narrative, we see life was not quite the bed of roses that some may think today of England's 'glorious' past.
Corruption in those who the people trusted with their souls, mirrors well some of today's current ills.
The author has created some memorable characters here who will live on in your mind well after the story has finished and this incident packed tale will keep you eager to turn to the next page, whilst also not wanting it to end.- Stephen Roberts, author.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RD Le Coeur
• Release date: Jun 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476040547

RD Le Coeur

ROY LE COEURWebsite: www.rdlecoeur.netWelcome to my page folks & thanks for stopping by.Roy was educated at a minor English boarding school and groomed for a life out in the British Empire possibly as a junior official, probably somewhere hot. Unfortunately by the time he graduated the British Empire had expired twenty years prior and no one had told the teachers!Roy is divorced and lives with his two boys and a pedigree Dalmatian dog in South Wales, UK. He has always had a passion for literature, history and for the ridiculous.

Book preview

Strata Florida

A tale of the Grail

By

R.D. Le Coeur

Smashwords edition.

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the author is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Strata Florida

Copyright © 2012 RD Le Coeur

Cover art and design by Richyroo Graphics.

Many thanks to my Beta Readers, Ginny, Lilly, Susan & Tom for their help during this project.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

Published by RD Le Coeur

Look for me online at:

www.rdlecoeur.net

Other books by this author:

The Spartacus Prophecy

Dragon's Heart

Belvine

New Shoes

The Vengeance Trilogy

Sunshine & Shadows

A Nun's Tale

Catcher of the Wry

Useful terminology.

Approximate Monastic prayer times:

Matins 2am

Lauds 5am

Prime 6am

Terce 9am

Sext noon

Nones 3pm

Vespers 4-5pm

Compline 6pm

Prior – A monastic officer in charge of a priory or ranking next below the abbot of an abbey.

A Sacrist - An official or cleric appointed curator of the vestments, sacred vessels and holy relics of a religious body, monastery, church, or cathedral.

Almoner- An official of a monastery, whose duty is to distribute charity or alms.

Cellarer A person, of a monastic community, who is responsible for maintaining the supply of food, drink and all provisions.

Scrip-a shoulder slung leather bag/holdall.

Chapter One

Christmastide 1538.

England.

The roast venison tasted delicious in a rich dark red wine sauce that begged for just another mouthful to savour the exquisite flavour. The sauce was then mopped up with a trencher of warm home baked crusty bread with vigour, until the platter was wiped clean. Sated, but thoughtful, the diner watched the flames in the open hearth crack and spark as the servant banked the log fire. He took another sip of the superb French Burgundian wine which had earlier been decanted into a hand blown Murano glass carafe. He was diverted from his wistful thoughts by the sounds of horses hooves crunching in the gravelled courtyard of the manor house. Not alarmed, but curious, he sent the servant to see who would come calling at this late hour. The servant returned with a bedraggled rider, soaked to the skin and dripping rain water onto the polished floor, much to the evident chagrin of the servant.

The messenger bowed in courtly fashion and proffered a sealed letter from within a damp leather saddlebag. He took it without question and looked carefully at the wax seal, which was both unbroken and oddly devoid of stamp.

Have you ridden far? he asked.

From London, my lord.

Are you to wait for a response?

My mistress instructed me to deliver this message with all haste, my lord.

Very well. My servant will take you to the kitchens and give you some food. I will send for you if I need you.

You are most gracious, my lord. he replied and after bowing he left the dining room following the servant to the kitchens.

He took the letter closer to the solid silver candelabra, broke the seal and opened the document. He first searched for the identity of the sender and was pleased to recognise the ornately scripted letter M at its closure. Friends at court were few and far between these days, but there were still some who believed in the rightness of things. He read the letter carefully once, then twice, before crumpling it up into a tight ball and throwing it onto the fire in complete exasperation whilst muttering, treacherous bastard!

He sat himself down, hung his head in his hands, watched the flames flicker and prayed for a sign from God of what he should do next. He was disturbed from his thoughts by his servant.

Excuse me, my lord, I am sorry to disturb you, but miss Polly was wondering if you would need your bed warming this evening?

What? he asked, still distracted.

Miss Polly, my lord. prompted the servant.

Ah, yes, Miss Polly. he replied suddenly thinking that an hour or so's fornication with the voluptuous Miss Polly would be a welcome distraction under the circumstances. Send her bathed and ready to my bedchamber would you? And tell the messenger that there is no reply but thank him for his prompt delivery and to deliver my blessings to his mistress.

As you wish, my lord Abbot.

Tell the cook I shall breakfast at dawn, there is urgent work to be done at the Abbey on the morrow.

Yes, my lord.

*

Richard Whyting, Abbot of Glastonbury refreshed from a simple night of pleasure and honest sleep, rode his imposing white stallion the few miles along the road to the Abbey from his manor, about an hour past prime. He acknowledged all who greeted him with the obligatory, Pax vobiscum, then the sign of the cross and swiftly took up residence in his study at the Abbey. He busied himself for a short while with paperwork, before summoning the Prior to be brought up to date with the latest news from within cloisters

The Prior made his report and complained bitterly about the behaviour of some of the new arrivals from the recently dissolved monasteries. In his opinion they were lapse in their duties and some, it seemed to him, had forgotten the very basis of monasticism i.e. The vows of obedience, poverty and chastity. The vow of obedience seemed to be markedly lacking in some, as were the observance of some of the Hours as proscribed by monastic laws. The Prior himself was a stickler for the regimen and the Abbot was more than happy for him to decide and mete out the necessary punishments to the unfortunate miscreants. He asked the Prior to provide a list of names of the offenders, together with their former monasteries as a simple way of feigning his interest in a subject that was close to the Prior's heart, but far at present, from his own.

The Abbot was not at all enamoured with the personal company of the Prior but had, due to internal politics and seniority, no option but to put up with him. Apart from which, his strict adherence to monastic regimen was a necessary evil in these far from certain times. In the fullness of time however, the Prior would be succeeded by either of the Abbot's two favourites, Brothers, John Thorne or Roger James who currently held the positions of Almoner and Sacrist respectively. The mere thought that one so petty and short sighted, as the Prior, in the wider scheme of things would ever rise to be Abbot, was unthinkable. The Abbot gave the Prior his blessing, dismissed him and asked for the Sacrist and Almoner to be sent to him at once. There was much to be done as it was Christmastide. There were masses to be said, appropriate lessons to be read, hymns to be sung to the glory of God and feasts to be organised. The Abbey would be at the very centre of everything in the Shire for the next few days. It was a pity then that the message he had received last evening was also of pressing import and it's resolution needed to be promptly planned and expedited.

A knock came at the door and the Sacrist and Almoner entered.

The Prior sent word that you wished to see us, father Abbot. said Brother John.

"Indeed so Brothers. Brother Roger, see the servant dismissed and that the corridor is clear...

walls have ears, more so in monasteries than most, I suspect." added the Abbot.

The Sacrist and the Almoner then sat as instructed in the leather guest chairs near the fireplace. The Abbot joined them, but remained standing.

The lessons for Christmastide will reflect the abomination that is the Lutheran heresy.

Father Abbot! protested the Sacrist who had meticulously already prepared this years lessons.

My friend, there is little option. Our very way of life is under threat and we need to drive home the message to the faithful that the spread of protestantism is a blasphemy in itself. Fire, brimstone and eternal damnation will befall all those who falter.

But surely the faithful will not heed the call of these blasphemers? said the Almoner.

Already the king has sent preachers out into the countryside to preach against us and our beliefs.

Surely not. The people will never accept it.

I fear there are many who will leap at the chance to see us destroyed, Brother. We live here in isolation and although we pray for them, the sinful wider world oft passes us by. observed the Abbot.

When do you need the redrafts, father Abbot?

The two of you can work on them all day today and bring them to my manor in time for dinner. I shall read and approve them then. Remember, Fire and Brimstone will be your watchwords. I believe you will find all you need as references in the old testament, Brother. Father Prior would probably know them all off by heart, chapter, verse and line should you need additional assistance in order to speed progress. Remember, every single lesson should reflect what I have told you.

Yes, father Abbot, they replied in choral unison.

I will speak to the Prior and release you from all monastic duties and obligations within the Abbey for today. You will return tomorrow after Prime. I am certain that the thoughts of fine food and warmed beds will both speed and reward your efforts, Brothers. There is also another matter I need your counsel on, that would be better discussed away from these cloisters. Until this evening then, Brothers.

The Abbot had a very busy morning attending to all the affairs of the Abbey and after Sext, he lunched with the monks on a simple but hearty stew of mutton and barley. In the afternoon he had to meet with representatives of the town of Glastonbury which was controlled for the most part by the Abbey, although the King's Commissioners had removed some of its historical privileges. The meetings about the Christmas festivities ran on as usual and the Abbot was not displeased to note that he had missed vespers. He headed home to his manor after a tiring day, looking forward to a good dinner in the company of friends. He had despatched a message to the manor earlier in the day to warn his staff that there would be guests for dinner and to warn the cooks that he expected a feast.

Brothers John Thorne and Roger James arrived on foot as soon as possible after vespers, hurrying as best they could and glad that the weather had improved somewhat from yesterday. They were received warmly and eagerly took the warming goblets of mulled wine offered by their host's servant.

They exchanged simple pleasantries before the Abbot directed the conversation back to business.

I trust you have brought the new lessons, Brother Roger?

Indeed so, father Abbot. It was not as difficult as at first perceived although the Lector is a trifle put out as he had learned by rote most of the former lessons for Christmas.

Brother Anthony is half blind and I am sorry for his extra work, but needs must at the present time.

The Abbot took the texts from Brother John and quickly read through them nodding in approval, as his guests nibbled on the savouries that had been set out at the end of the dining table.

Excellent work, Brothers. The congregation will be in no doubt whatsoever that they will all end up in purgatory should their faith fail after hearing these lessons.

I cannot believe that the king would listen to the ravings of that Lutheran, Thomas Cromwell.

The King of England is not alone, many monarchs on the continent have paid heed to the heretic, Martin Luther.

Pope Leo did not excommunicate him for nothing, said Brother John.

That action only spurred him on to start his own church, I fear. said Brother Roger.

He has preached that there is no scriptural evidence for monastic life and therefore all vows are meaningless and void. The view of the church is that there is no scriptural evidence to say that there should not be such dedication to our lord. He is against pilgrimages and holy relics and in my opinion, should have been burned at the stake as the heretic he surely is! observed the Abbot.

I do not understand why this was not so, father Abbot.

He was and is shielded by greedy and powerful people, eager to steal the wealth of the church and with private armies to effect what they desire.

What will become of us? asked Brother Roger.

I have the King's word that the most powerful and richest monastery in England will remain unimpeachable. The purpose of Glastonbury for the foreseeable future, Brothers, is to hold close all that we hold dear, keep our faith and our cherished ways and God will deliver us from this evil that sweeps the land. Eventually all will see Luther for what he is, an Antichrist leading the weak and feeble away from the true path. said the Abbot.

Amen. responded the Brothers.

Two servants carried the huge silver salver that sported a whole roast suckling pig into the dining room and set it in the centre of the table. Salvers of roasted vegetables were also set out and at the behest of the Abbot and more wine was brought.

The Abbot intoned grace, "Benedic, Domine, nos et dona tua, quae de largitate tua sumus sumpturi, et concede, ut illis salubriter nutriti tibi debitum obsequium praestare valeamus, per Christum Dominum nostrum." In indecent haste, before they swooped upon the food like hungry vultures.

Conversation was muted as they feasted on some of the finest foods available at that time of year and the Brothers ate with gusto. The Abbot was happy to see his friends eat so well and the silence during the feasting was a happy one of Brothers forged as friends from the many years, that the Abbot had previously served as Abbey Chamberlain.

At last, somewhat sated, the Abbot raised his hand in the air and called for silence. The wine, the food and the bonhomie had inevitably led the table conversation into bawdy jokes and equally ribald comments.

Brothers, I have received a message from a well wisher which needs our best minds and attention. The Holy Grail that was gifted us by Joseph of Arimathea is in danger of falling into the king's hands. We cannot stand by and let this happen. The holiest of relics must be kept safe within the body of the Catholic church itself and not fall prey to the foul whims of Mammon. To this end I propose that we remove the relic in secrecy and send it to a safer place. Overt action will only draw the attention of the King's Commissioners and deprive Christendom of its most cherished possession. We must move stealthily, Brothers and effect a plan to save Christ's cup.

The sombre news sobered the Brothers and the former merriment evaporated.

Where do you propose to send it? asked Brother Roger.

Strata Florida, in the darkest depths of Wales. replied the Abbot.

We could make pilgrimage to our Cistercian Brothers at Strata. offered Brother John.

They will have to go on foot, as our chattels and goods are under scrutiny of the King's Commissioners. Any shortfall in our accounts will only provoke charges of profligacy. replied the Abbot.

How far is the trip to Strata on foot?

My guess, having only been there once, is about a month, depending on the weather. replied the Abbot.

It is very remote as I recall someone saying. responded Brother Roger.

I believe a pilgrimage is the only answer. The only question remains who goes? Who can we trust with this vital expedition?

We'll go, offered Brother John.

I need you both here, the Abbey must be beyond reproach. Who knows exactly when the King's Commissioners will come a' calling again. Discipline is vital... which gives me an idea. The Abbot rose from the table went to his study and returned with a parchment.

This should kill two birds with one stone. he said smiling and handing over the parchment for his guests to read.

Brothers John and Roger read the document and looked both bemused and baffled at what a list of six monastic miscreants could have to do with the price of eggs.

They are manna sent from heaven to do God's work. replied the Abbot smiling.

They are for the most part foul mouthed, lazy and intemperate. replied Brother John taking another gulp of the exquisite wine.

Indeed so, Brothers. The plan will be to remove them from Glastonbury in perpetuity. Our robes will be spotless in this enterprise. The key to it all will be the leader of this pilgrimage.

A cunning plan, father Abbot. Our prickly Prior will be ecstatic and we'll all lead a far more harmonious existence.

Good! We are resolved then. The Prior will believe that their pilgrimage is God's way of some small retribution for their sins, but neither he nor they must know their true purpose. This we will entrust to the leader of the expedition. However, in retrospect, maybe he does not need to know the whole truth either. Perhaps we should tell him he carries another relic? Often there is more safety all around in obfuscation. The big question is who shall we chose to be leader?

How much time do we have to decide? asked Brother John.

We need the pilgrimage to commence on the feast of St John the apostle, two days after Christmas. That will give them plenty of time to get there.

Will you write to Abbot Richard Talley there?

I think not. Letters can fall into the wrong hands. The leader will convey my message in person and carry one of my seals.

Chapter Two.

Brother Reynard was in the cellar flinging empty casks onto a handcart as if they each weighed no more than a single parsnip.

As assistant cellarer to the venerable and aged, Brother Andrew, he relished the work which kept him both fit and trim. A problem of middle age, in his opinion, was that muscle would turn to fat if you were a big man and if you were not careful, this could lead to chest and breathing difficulties, as you matured.

Covetousness is a sin, Brother Reynard. But I envy your energy. observed Brother Andrew.

Ha! I envy your piety, Brother so we are both sinners.

We are all sinners under God's watchful eye. replied Brother Andrew.

I have nearly finished here, Brother what's next?

I have received some new yeasts to try out with the ale which you can help me with and then there are all the Geese to attend to for the Christmastide feasts, but first Father Abbot wishes to see you.

Me? Have I done something wrong, Brother?

Not to my knowledge, Brother. Your hard work sets an example to all.

You are too kind, Brother.

The monastic laws of obedience meant total obedience to the Abbot, so Brother Reynard promptly excused himself from his mentor and went in search of Father Richard.

Brother Reynard knocked politely on the door of the Abbot's private study and entered on being given permission. He instantly felt ill at ease. His monastic peers, comprising the Sacrist, Almoner and the Abbot, were all assembled like a court of inquisition.

Ah! Brother Reynard, welcome. Please take a seat. said father Abbot. Brother Reynard sat

as he was bid but his nervousness