Anyway, I decided to put those skills to good use. Two nights after I’d been called before Bishop Brihtm?r, long after everyone else had gone to sleep, I rose from my bed. Barefoot and stepping as lightly as I could, I slipped out the dormitory door, the satchel that usually contained my tablet and stylus slung across my shoulder. The moon was full and the skies were clear, which meant I was better able to see what I was doing, although I suppose had anyone been about it would also have made it easier for them to spot me. Fortunately, there was no one. I hurried through the shadows towards the small stone church and proceeded to scale the outside, working my hands and my toes into the cracks and the crevices, one limb and then the next, as quickly as possible until I was able to swing myself on to the roof of the nave, which had been rethatched the previous summer, so I knew I could trust it with my weight. I scrambled up so that I was sitting astride the roof and then, taking from my bag one of several blocks of chalk that I’d taken from the schoolroom earlier, I set to work.
It was after Easter by then, but it was a chill night, and I was glad of the long winter cloak draped across my shoulders. Not my own cloak, you understand; I had no intention of getting all that dust on my own clothes and so giving myself away. That would have been foolish of me. But it wasn’t long before my hands, my face, my hair was caked in the stuff.
I worked as quickly as I could. By the time I’d finished, the first glimmer of grey was already beginning to show in the east. My eyes were sore from lack of sleep and my backside was hurting from sitting so long in the same position. Before anybody else woke and noticed I wasn’t in my bed, I stuffed the chalk back into my satchel, climbed down and stole back through the shadows to the dormitory, pausing first to shed my borrowed cloak and to rinse my face and hands and hair as thoroughly as I could in the brook that ran behind the dormitory, knowing I had to be quick. Then, folding it into a bundle so that none of the dust came off on my person, I carried the cloak back inside, opening the door carefully so that it didn’t creak on its worn hinges. None of the other boys stirred, for which I thanked God as I made my way to where Wulfnoth was curled up underneath his blankets, eyes closed and with a frowning expression on his face, breathing softly and steadily. Hardly daring to breathe, I knelt down by the chest at the foot of his bed, lifted open the lid and laid his dusty cloak back inside, together with what was left of the chalk from my satchel, before hastening back to my own bed.
Sleep must have claimed me not long afterwards, although how I was able to settle, I don’t know. I remember waking to the sound of shouting as daylight flooded in through the doorway, paining my eyes. Master ?thelbald stood in the middle of the room, roaring at us all to get up, while the deacons marched from bed to bed, pulling the sheets back from those who were too slow, forcibly dragging them from their mattresses.
‘Out,’ ?thelbald roared. ‘All of you, out!’
I remember catching Wulfnoth’s eyes as we filed, one by one, out of the dormitory and were made to wait in the yard outside. He had a puzzled look on his face, as did the rest of them, but when he asked me what I thought was happening I merely shrugged. The sky was light, but the sun was barely up and there was a keen breeze, and we stood in our shirts and our bare feet.
‘Which one of you is responsible?’ ?thelbald asked us.
‘For what?’ one of the younger boys asked. Of course no one had any idea what he was talking about.
No one but me. I hoped ?thelbald didn’t look in my direction, thinking that I would surely give myself away.
Our master thrust out his arm, pointing above our heads. ‘For that!’
We all turned as one, looking up in the direction of his outstretched finger, towards the church, and specifically the bell tower, where my handiwork was clearly visible. It looked even better in the light of day, and I smiled with pride despite myself as howls of laughter rang out from the assembled students.
‘This isn’t funny,’ ?thelbald screeched, and his cheeks were bright red. ‘Whoever did this will be sorely punished!’
In bright chalk across the southern face of the belfry was what I’d spent a full hour last night working on. Two male figures, crudely drawn and yet clear enough. Both naked save for the crosses hanging around their necks. Both with members erect: members almost as long as their arms, I remember. Balls as big as platters. I was especially proud of those details. One of the figures was bent forward, his rear exposed, resting upon his bishop’s staff, while the other approached him from behind. Above the standing one I’d written, in tall majuscules so that they could be easily read from a distance, ‘?THEL’, while below the one bent over I’d scrawled ‘BRIHT’. It wasn’t the most clever thing I could have attempted, but I was never much good at drawing.
I know, I know. It shames me to think back on it, on what I did. At the time, though, I couldn’t stop grinning. I didn’t have much time to enjoy the moment, though.
?thelbald rounded upon me. ‘This was your doing, wasn’t it, Guthred?’
‘Me?’ I asked, looking up because he was tall, and hoping that my performance was convincing enough. ‘No, master, I swear it wasn’t.’
He fixed me with his darkest frown. He didn’t believe me, I know he didn’t, because he never did, and I remember starting to panic, thinking that if this didn’t work then it would be on my head, when just at that moment one of the deacons emerged from the dormitory and called ?thelbald over to see something.
I knew then that they’d found it.