The Shepherd Who Ate His Sheep Read online

  ‘We must see the bishop. It’s a matter of life and death.’

  ‘Pah,’ the guard snorted. ‘They all are. But the king arrives tomorrow morning and no one enters the palace till he’s gone.’

  ‘But we have to see him. If we don’t see him my son dies,’ I moaned.

  The man shrugged his huge shoulders and his armour rattled. He prodded my shoulder with a fat finger. ‘Then your son dies. Now clear off or you’ll be joining him... on the end of my sword.’

  We turned and trudged away. An ox-cart splashed past, loaded with vegetables for the palace kitchens. It had a loose cover of waxed cloth over it to keep the stuff dry. Drew and I looked at one another. Without a word we lifted the cover, and climbed among the fresh cabbages and carrots, parsnips, and leeks, turnips and onions.

  There was fruit there too. Apples and pears. The bishops and the kings of the world lived well. They wouldn’t miss a couple of apples, I decided, as I chewed on one and the cart clattered past the guard.

  We slipped out as the cart halted outside the kitchen doors and stood at the back. Drew may have had an old head but it was a wise one. Instead of running and hiding, he stood there. As the carter stepped off the cart Drew grinned and called, ‘Greetings, friend. We’ve been waiting for you.’

  The farmer was as shrivelled as one of his apples left in the sun too long, and just as sour. ‘I hope the cook sent you here to help me unload this lot?’

  ‘He did,’ I said and began to unload the baskets of fruit and vegetables.

  Inside the kitchen scullions were filling copper pots and boiling beef, legs of mutton and pork. They were stuffing sausages and making milk puddings with honey.

  A huge man with a belly like a walrus was shouting orders. The cook.

  ‘Excuse me, good sir,’ I said, ‘we’re delivering vegetables. The royal guard at the gate said you’d give us supper.’

  ‘Did he?’ the cook said with a scowl. ‘Only the palace workers get fed from my kitchens.’

  ‘But we’re from the royal palace,’ Drew put in. ‘Tomorrow we will help set the tables and serve the king. Maybe you can let us sleep in the servants’ hall tonight?’

  The man blew out his apple-red cheeks. ‘You’ll come in useful. The bishop never has enough servants to help me. He’s a mean old devil. Now get working. King’s men or no king’s men I’ll beat you with a ladle if I see you skive.’

  I thought of my Gladys and muttered, ‘I’m used to that then.’

  6

  Pardon

  The work was hard and the king was delayed by the mud on the roads. That made the cook bad tempered and he was lashing out with his ladle. It also meant it was dark by the time the bishop appeared in the hall to sit at the head of the table with King Athelstan. The bishop and all of his guests wore their finest robes and jewels that glittered in the light of fifty torches.

  ‘When are you going to speak to the bishop?’

  ‘When he’s finished talking to the king,’ I said.

  ‘But that may be midnight. We need to get back to the village before the sun rises,’ Drew hissed.

  ‘I can’t interrupt the king,’ I groaned.

  ‘Then I’ll do it,’ the old man said.

  As the grey-haired bishop carved a huge salmon on the table in front of him, Drew stepped forward. ‘Excuse me sir, but this is important.’

  ‘How dare you, churl?’ the bishop spat. ‘You’ll be arrested and thrown off the cliffs for your impertinence.’

  As guards moved to grasp Drew by the arms he raised his voice, ‘Your Grace, King Athelstan: hear me or a boy will die at first light.’

  The king raised a hand and the guards loosed Drew. I was half hidden by a curtain. I wasn’t afraid, of course. But there was no use us both dying, was there?

  The king stroked his golden beard as the old watchman told the story of the dead sheep and the trial of Edward. ‘We simply ask for your mercy on a poor boy.’ At last Drew fell silent. The hall was so silent we could hear the torches crackle on the walls.

  At last King Athelstan spoke. ‘I am not as sure of the boy’s guilt as the magistrate seems to be. But even if the lad did kill his master’s sheep he is too young to die. I will change the law of the land. No one under the age of sixteen years will hang, whatever his crime. Send for my clerk and I will write an order to the magistrate. The boy can be fined. He can work two weeks as a shepherd with no pay. That is punishment enough.’ He looked at Drew. ‘You did well, old man, to bring this case before me.’

  ‘Thank you, your Grace, but it is dark and wild and we may not get back in time,’ Drew sighed.

  ‘Then the bishop will lend you a fine horse from his stables and I will send guards with torches to light your way and keep away robbers.’

  ‘Two horses,’ I said.

  The king turned his sharp eyes on me. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Dear little Edwards’s father, Your Grace,’ I said.

  King Athelstan gave a sharp nod. ‘Be on your way. By the time your horses are saddled the letter will be sealed. Keep it safe.’

  Even with the finest fastest horses in the south of England we struggled along the roads and through the moonless darkness. In the trees I was sure we’d be attacked by thieves or hobgoblins. Not that I was afraid. I was only worried they would delay us long enough for the rising sun to shine on my dear dead son.

  The sky was lighter when we galloped into the village. Edward was being led from the village pound and the last nails were being hammered into the wooden scaffold tree. I reached inside my jerkin with frozen fingers and waved the king’s letter. ‘A pardon,’ I cried. ‘The king himself has pardoned you.’

  Some of the villagers gave out a sigh and moaned, ‘No hanging for us today then.’

  ‘Still at least we have a fair and a holiday,’ another said.

  Edward ran to my dear Gladys and she hugged him. She looked over the boy’s head with the eyes of an adder and said, ‘Get back to the house, Upton Medway. We need to talk.’

  ‘I saved our son,’ I wailed.

  ‘You all but killed him,’ she said. ‘Home. Now.’

  7

  Truths

  Gladys sat me by the door and handed me a shepherd’s crook. ‘You will go to Thane Hugh and tell him you are ready to start work.’

  ‘I’m tired,’ I whined. ‘I’ve been riding all night.’

  She ignored my plea. ‘Lambing is about to start. There’ll be lots of work. Lots of extra shepherds to guard the flocks at night.’

  ‘I’m too old. I’ll catch cold. I’ll die.’

  ‘And it’ll serve you right.’

  ‘Gladys, how can you say that? I saved our son...’

  ‘If you don’t leave right now I will find the magistrate and tell him who really killed the thane’s sheep.’

  ‘You know?’ I said and my tired eyes must have been wide as one of the bishop’s fine bowls.

  ‘Yes. You left the house that night to take Edward some wood,’ she said.

  ‘Like a good father,’ I sighed.

  ‘You saw a stray sheep caught in the thorns of a hedge. You killed it. You hadn’t the strength to bring it home so you cut off a leg and rolled the rest into the thorn bush.’

  I hung my head. ‘I wanted to feed my dear wife and son, like a good father.’

  She waved her ladle at me. ‘You let Edward take the blame. When he was sentenced to die you kept quiet. Like a bad father. The worst sort of father.’

  ‘They’d have hanged me,’ I moaned. ‘I’m over sixteen. The king wouldn’t have saved me.’

  ‘You are also guilty. So nothing would save you. A nice tight noose might have stopped your complaining,’ she said. ‘You grumble and complain. You moan, you grouse, you gripe.’

  ‘I hardly ever grumble,’ I grumbled.

  ‘And you never will again. If I hear one more moan from you I will go straight to the thane and tell him who really killed his sheep.’

  ‘That is so unfair,’ I sob
bed.

  ‘Was that a moan?’ Gladys asked.

  I gave a smile as faint as a new moon. ‘No, my dearest. No.’

  I threw back my shoulders and marched into the bitter wind. The best shepherd in the village was about to get back to work.

  And I am not complaining. No. Honestly. I’m not.

  Epilogue

  This tale is based on a true story.

  The people of Maidstone in Kent were cheated of an execution by King Athelstan. The king got to hear of the case of sheep-rustling Edward Medway. The starving boy had killed one of his own sheep and eaten its leg. He said the sheep was killed by wolves, but the leg had been neatly cut off and its throat slit. As the Maidstone magistrate said, ‘I’ve never seen a wolf that carries a knife.’

  The magistrate then sentenced the sheep-killer to be hanged. Crowds had gathered from around the county and a fair had been set up in the square around the gallows.

  Then came the sensational news. King Athelstan had changed the law so young criminals like Ed couldn’t be killed.

  The king wrote to Bishop Theodred and said,

  It is not fair that a man should

  die so young. Or for such a small

  offence when he has seen others

  get away with it elsewhere.

  The new law said that no one could be executed if they were under sixteen years of age.

  So, young criminals couldn’t be killed in Saxon times. But by the Georgian age (the 1700s to the early 1800s) children were being executed again.

  YOU TRY...

  1. Plead for your life. Imagine you have been charged with stealing the head teacher’s school dinner from the dining hall. Twenty people saw you do it. The head says you will be expelled from the school. You will lose all your best friends and go to a strange school. Can you write a letter to the head and plead with him or her. Tell them why you should NOT be expelled?

  2. Life in a Saxon village was hard. Imagine you could travel back in time from your comfortable world of today. You can live a week in a Saxon village, like Edward’s. What FIVE things would you take with you from today’s world to help you survive?

  3. Draw a large picture of a sheep. Mark on SIX joints that people eat:

  i) leg

  ii) shoulder

  iii) scrag

  iv) loin

  v) chump

  vi) flank

  Terry Deary’s Saxon Tales

  If you liked this book why not look out for the rest of Terry Deary’s Saxon Tales?

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  This electronic edition published in 2017

  Copyright © Terry Deary, 2017

  Illustrations copyright © Tambe, 2017

  Terry Deary and Tambe have asserted their rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author and Illustrator of this work.

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  ISBN

  PB: 978 1 4729 2928 0

  ePub: 978 1 4729 2929 7

  ePDF: 978 1 4729 2930 3

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