He insisted on keeping his robe on even though it was sopping wet and streaked with mud which no doubt he saw as badges of his martyrdom. I’m sure he would have preferred to keep the blood streaking his face, too, if Gilbert and I hadn’t already cleaned it off. The injury itself was superficial - a gash that was already closing. If I were of a less charitable mien I might even have said it was self-inflicted in order to gain sympathy for his cause. But I have to admit that a blow on the back of the head would be difficult to self-administer. It could simply have been an accident - there was enough timber being hurled around in the orgy of destruction and Eustache had been in the thick of it. However if it wasn’t an accident or self-inflicted but a deliberate attack then the question was by whom? There was no shortage of candidates: disgruntled Bury traders for one; irate Lakenheath residents for another; peeved abbey physicians for a third. And his white robe made him an easily identifiable target for anyone with a grudge.
