So they rode through the village. Just as they came to the edge of it, the summoner rode up to his companion and whispered in his ear again. ‘There is an old woman living around here, who would sooner risk her neck than lose a penny. I’ll get some money out of her, so help me. Otherwise she will end up in court. She hasn’t done anything wrong, of course, but that doesn’t matter. The important thing is to get her. You haven’t had much luck so far, but I’ll show you how it’s done. Just watch.’

When they came up to the old widow’s door, the summoner began beating on it. ‘Come out, you old trout!’ he shouted. ‘Have you got some priest or friar with you? You old hag!’

‘Who is knocking?’ The old woman opened the door a fraction. ‘God save us! What do you want, dear sir?’ She knew that he was the summoner.

‘I have a bill of summons here,’ he said. ‘On pain of excommunication I command you to attend the archdeacon’s court tomorrow. There you will have to respond to certain charges made against you.’

‘May God be my witness,’ she said, ‘I have done nothing wrong. I have been ill for a long time, in any case, and I cannot go very far. I can only hobble and, sir, I could no more get on a horse than on your back. The pain in my side is something dreadful. Can you not give me a written statement of the case? Then I can get someone to answer the charges for me in open court.’

‘If you pay up now, I’ll consider it. Now let me see. Yes. Twelve pence should do it. If you pay me those twelve pence, I’ll drop all charges. I shan’t make much profit myself. It all goes to my lord and master. But for your sake I’ll do it. Come on. Cough up. Where’s the money?’

‘Twelve pence!’ she exclaimed. ‘Mary, Mother of God save me from ruin! If I were to gain the whole world by it, I still haven’t got the money. Twelve pence? I’ve never seen so much money in my life. You can see well enough, sir, what I am. Have pity on a poor old hag.’

‘No way. If I let you off, may the devil take me! Pay up, even if it kills you.’

‘In God’s truth, I don’t have any money.’

‘Pay me now. Otherwise I will confiscate your brand-new frying pan. The one I can see lying in the corner. Don’t you remember the debt you owe me for cheating on your husband? I paid your fine then to the archdeacon.’

‘That’s a lie! I swear to God that I have never once been summoned to your court, as a wife or as a widow-woman. I have always been honest.’ She fell down on her knees in an attitude of prayer. ‘May the black and smoking devil take you – and my frying pan, too, if he wants it!’

When the devil heard her curse, he said gently to her, ‘Mother Mabel, is this what you really want? Are you saying this in earnest or in game?’

‘In deadly earnest, sir. If this summoner does not repent his lies, may the devil carry him off. And he can take my frying pan with him.’

‘Well, you old bitch,’ the summoner replied. ‘I don’t repent anything I have ever had of you. I would take your smock, if I could. I would strip every stitch off your back.’

‘Don’t be angry, dear brother,’ the fiend said. ‘Your body and her frying pan are mine by right. You must descend to hell with me tonight, where I will teach you all of our secrets. You will become more learned than any theologian.’ And, with that, the devil caught him in his arms and carried him off. The soul and body of the summoner were taken to the place where all summoners eventually retire. May God, who made us in His own image, grant us all salvation. May He even teach summoners to become good men.

I could have told you, gentlemen and gentle ladies – and, if I had time, I could have told this Summoner here – what Christ and the apostles have said about the pains of hell. That cursed house is filled with pain and suffering which I could not describe in the space of a thousand winters. No mind can conceive of it. No tongue can tell it. May Jesus our Saviour keep us from that evil place, and may He protect us from the wiles of Satan. Beware. Stay alert. Remember the old proverb: ‘The lion is always poised to slay and eat the innocent, if ever he gets the chance. Dispose your hearts so fittingly that you will be able to withstand the snares of the devil.’ The fiend cannot tempt you beyond your strength. Remember that. Christ will be your champion and your knight. Let us pray that all the summoners of this nation repent their misdeeds before they are taken down to hell. Amen.

Heere endeth the Freres Tale

The Summoner’s Prologue

The Prologe of the Somonours Tale

The Summoner stood up in his stirrups and shook his fist at the Friar; he was so angry that he was shaking like an aspen leaf. He was as mad as hell. ‘I want only one thing, fellow pilgrims,’ he said. ‘I ask you, out of courtesy to me, now that you have heard this false Friar lying through his teeth, to listen to my tale. This Friar boasts that he knows all about hell. I am not surprised. Friars and fiends are very closely related. You must have heard the story about the friar who was taken to hell in a vision. When the angel guided him through all the circles and pains of that inferno, the friar could see none of his brethren. There were plenty of other people in torment, but there were no friars. So he spoke up and asked the angel, “Tell me, sir, are friars so virtuous that none are damned?”

‘“No indeed,” the angel replied. “There are millions of them here.” The spirit led him down to the body of Satan himself. “Do you see the demon’s tail?” he asked the friar. “It is as broad as a sail on a great ship, is it not? Just look what is beneath it. Hold up your tail, Satan! Let us see your arse. Let the friar see where all his brethren are hiding.”

‘Satan did as he was told. A couple of minutes later the friars came out like a swarm of bees. They were pushed and prodded by junior fiends; they ran in all directions, here and there through the precincts of hell, till on one accord they fled back up Satan’s fundament. Then the devil covered his arse with his tail, and settled down again.

‘When the friar had thoroughly acquainted himself with all the miseries and mysteries of hell, his spirit returned to his body. He awoke in his own bed, by God’s mercy, but he was so fearful that he sweated and shook. He could not get the arse of the devil out of his thoughts. That was the place he was heading for.

‘God save all of you gentlemen and ladies – all except the cursed Friar here. Now I will get on with my story.’

The Summoner’s Tale

Heere bigynneth the Somonour his Tale

There is in Yorkshire, I believe, a marshy area known as Holderness. Or is it a town? I can’t remember. Anyway, there was a friar who frequented the area, preaching and begging in the usual fashion of his breed. His name was Friar John. It so happened that one day he had given a sermon in one of the local churches. It was the same old story. Donate alms for the sake of masses for the dead. Donate alms so that we can build more friaries and honour God Almighty. Don’t give money where it will only be wasted and misspent. Don’t support those who are already living in luxury, thanks be to God, like the monks and the priests. ‘Your alms,’ he said, ‘can release the souls of all folk, young and old, from the pains of purgatory. It does not matter if the prayers at the mass are sung hastily. I will not accuse any priest of being frivolous or wanton for saying only one mass a day. Far from it. These poor souls must be delivered from their torments as quickly as possible. It is hard for them to endure the flesh-hooks and the spikes. It is agony for them to be torn to pieces or burned or boiled. Can you imagine it? So give me your money quickly, for all their sakes.’