One day, in the mid-12th Century, an unremarkable monk sat down in St Edmund's Abbey, Suffolk, and set pen to parchment. He was chronicling the scandalous life of a man he had met some years earlier – the story, he hoped, was not too improper.
The anonymous monk's interest had begun at another abbey, in Reading, where he had been visiting. Within the imposing building's rough flint walls, in the shadows of a virtually unlit room, he met the resident brothers. Among them was one who immediately stuck out as unusual – a monk who, though now dressed in the same hooded robes as the rest, had once led a very different life. In hushed tones, this man explained how he had become a monk by accident.
In 1157, Henry of Essex had been noble – by birth, rather than deed – wealthy, and powerful. He was a knight famous for his skill with a sword, and trusted by Henry II of England. He also wasn't very nice – he stole money, brought shame on women, and had an innocent man tortured.
