The Remembered (3 page)

His mind instead drifted between thoughts of his work and of the girl that had so captivated his mind. She wasn’t a tall girl, she was perhaps a head shorter than Richard. She had long, light-brown hair that she wore tied in a tight coil on her head. To hold her in his arms would be so nice........
'Whot was that?!', thought Richard. There was definitely a noise. There it was again, not far behind. It sounded like a twig breaking. His heart raced a little faster. The sound really could be anything, thought Richard. A deer in the woods, a skunk, or a raccoon. Richard walked faster and listened intently. He had lost track of time as he engaged in thoughts about the girl. Before he had realized it he had entered the wooded area and was beginning to climb the hill. He was within a half mile of home now. He thought again of the dinner that must be waiting for him and of the warm, crackling fire. Then he heard the noise again. The sound was unmistakeable this time, someone was following him.
Richard’s mind was racing now. Should he run? He was a fast runner, but there may be more of them up ahead waiting for him. Should he hide and wait to see if someone passed by? That might be wise, but whomever, or whatever it was that was behind him already knew where he was, if he stopped, he would be an easy victim. He wasn’t a small person, he could probably win in a hand-to-hand fight. But, they might have a weapon.
Crack. There was the sound again, but closer. Instinctively, Richard darted to his right and ran across the side of the hill for a short way and then turned back down the hill toward the meadow and the river. Running down hill would give him more speed. If he could reach the towne gate he would be safe.
Richard could barely see where he was going. He crashed through the bushes and darted around trees. The bushes whipped his face and grabbed at his body, but he ran on, faster. Soon he reached the meadow. Just a few hundred yards further he thought. Then he caught a glimpse of a dark movement out of the corner of eye to his right. The shadowy form was already leaping at him. Richard could barely hold back the scream that welled up in his throat. The shadowy form hit Richard across the body with a tremendous impact that sent him crashing to the ground. Richard rolled several times through the grass before he could get his feet beneath him and jump upright. He spun around ready to fight for his life, but was hit from behind and knocked to the ground again. This time the attacker jumped onto him and started licking his face.
'Argus, daft dog! I am so glad to see you, even if you are filthy and wet.'
Argus was Richard's sister's dog, but he seemed to prefer Richard. It was unusual for Argus to be out of the garden at this time of night. Even though Richard was wet and muddy, he was relieved that the attacker was Argus.
Richard was just about to head for home again with Argus when he heard another noise in the woods nearby. He held Argus close with a hand over his mouth and pushed into a bush as far as they could. The moon was just a little higher now and with a small break in the clouds cast a sliver of light on three ghostly forms moving through the trees. They didn't speak a word and except for the slight noise that Richard had heard, they didn't seem to make a sound.
Argus strained at the hold that Richard had on him and a growl started to rumble in his throat, but Richard held him closer and whispered quietly in his ear to calm him. Still Richard could feel the dog's powerful muscles twitch with anticipation.
The three figures passed by quickly several yards away, headed toward the river. It appeared to Richard that they were going to skirt the towne and pass by on the south.
'Luks like they did nay see us,' Richard whispered to Argus. With that, his tail began to wag and his muscles relaxed a bit. 'Let us head for 'ome.' At the mention of the word 'home', Argus spun around and bounded up the hill again.
Easton-on-the-hill was not much of a village, really it was a wee bit larger than a hamlet, but it did have its own church, All Saints'. The village only had a small number of streets and none of those had stone paving. Most people lived on Church Street or High Street. Richard's family lived on Church Street nearest the fields that separated Easton-on-the-hill from Stamford. Richard's father farmed a small plot of ground nearby that he rented from the Saint Leonard's Priory of Stamford.
Easton-on-the-hill wasn't even of enough prominence to have a wall for protection. If there was trouble, the villagers were obliged to find safety in Stamford.
The cottage of Richard's father was much like the other homes in the village. It was made of the stone that was common to the area. It was a sandy stone, light gray in colour and was prone to be covered by moss as a result of the wet weather. The cottage roof was also thatched with long strands of wheat stalks. The combination of the stone, the thatching and the damp air gave the cottage a light musky scent that Richard had become so accustomed to that wherever he smelled it, the smell reminded him of his home.
Like most other cottages, Richard's father's cottage also had a stone wall that completely surrounded it. Richard wasn't even certain who had built the cottage or the wall. He only knew that his father had grown up in the cottage, his grandfather had been born in the cottage and raised there, as had his father before him. The only thing that seemed to change about the cottage was the new thatching that was required every 40 years or so. A person could live a whole lifetime almost and not see the thatching changed. But, as luck would have it, Richard's father was required to bear the expense of a new thatching several years previous.
Richard knew that the cottage would never belong to him. Richard's older brother, Bromley would receive the cottage at the death of his father, just like Richard's father had received it from his father. That did not concern Richard. He was not interested in the life of a farmer and didn't plan to stay in Easton-on-the-hill long enough to see the thatch changed again.
Reaching home, Richard found the gate was open, explaining why Argus was roaming the fields and woods. Richard lifted the heavy metal latch of the door and leaned against it. The door moved on its hinges with little resistance, but let out its usual creaky groan. The familiar smells of musk and damp thatch greeted Richard as he step into the room as did the aroma of freshly-baked bread. The family had finished the evening meal, but there was still some bread and milk on the corner of the table. Times were difficult for a man with a small farm and sometimes there was just not enough food to go around. Tonight, however, Richard wouldn't go to bed hungry.
Glancing up from her mending as he entered, his mother greeted him.
' 'ello me luv, 'ow was your dee?' asked his mother. Richard mumbled a few words about the progress on the glass work and the dampness of the weather, never mentioning the broken glass or the beautiful girl.
'I saw three people in the woods tonight, Mum. They did nay see me.'
'They weren't the duke's men then?'
'No, they wuld 'ave been on the roadway.'
'Please be careful going through those woods at night, me luv.'
Richard's father, who had the appearance of being asleep in a chair near the fire, now spoke for the first time since Richard entered the cottage. Without opening his eyes, he said in a half whisper, 'You will be needed in the afternoon to 'elp with the planting.'
This is not what Richard wanted to hear. Saturday in Stamford was a market day and he was certain that he would be able to see the girl again after he completed his work at the glaziers. Richard's father however wasn't one to disagree with. Richard consented, but only half-heartedly.

1420

Easton-on-the-hill, England

Lind Easton was a hardworking man. He came by farming naturally, which was a very good thing since he had a wife and a child that depended on him to eat. They meant everything to him, but still he felt the almost crushing burden of providing for their safety and well-being. His father and mother had succumbed in the past year to a plague that had passed through the Stamford area. Lind, his wife and child had been very fortunate indeed to have been spared the horrible fate that so many had suffered. It was bad enough to lose a loved one to this illness, but to watch how they suffered before they died was almost too much to bear. By the time death wrapped its spiny fingers around the afflicted person its grip was a welcomed relief to the suffering. The illness was believed to be caused by evil spirits on account of the afflicted's wickedness, but Lind wasn't certain that he believed that. After all, his father, Ian and his mother Winifred were very devoted to the Church and to their families.
The first sign that usually accompanied the illness was aching within the head itself, followed by burning on the forehead. If that wasn't enough to torment the sufferers, the vomiting and the uncontrolled bowels that followed would cause them to beg for death. The priest had done all that he could to relieve the suffering, but it was of no avail.
Lind was in the fields when he heard of his mother's death. Heartbroken, he rushed to her side. Kneeling at her bedside, he held her lifeless body and wept. His father lay nearby unable to render any care or assistance. Although All Saints' of Easton-on-the-hill was right across the lane, the priest had been at the upper end of the village caring for someone else and was not able to administer last rites to her. This was very disturbing to Ian and Lind. All her life, she had been devout, and now, because the priest was not available, they felt that her soul was in jeopardy. The thought of this caused Lind to weep more bitterly.
Because of the number of the dead and dying, there wouldn't be a wake. Her body was placed in the ground later that day in a hole dug by Lind.
Lind didn't return to the fields for several days after putting his mother into the ground. Instead, he stayed by his father's bed, knowing that Ian didn't have much longer to live. Ian had quit eating and drinking shortly prior to Winifred's death. He seemed mostly dead already, but would occasionally open his eyes, eyes that had once been bright and blue were now gray and hollow.
Late in the afternoon of the third day that Lind was with him, Ian opened his eyes and looked at Lind. His mouth moved as though he wanted to speak, but only small whispers of air escaped his lips. Lind placed his ear close to Ian's mouth and listened intently, assuring his father that he was there.
Ian half whispered, half mouthed the words, 'I 'ave seen 'er. Aye, I 'ave seen 'er.'
'Who?' asked Lind intently.
'Win...red,' whispered his father. 'She is luv..ly.' 'Luv..ly,' he whispered almost for emphasis.
Lind squeezed gently on his father's withered hand and asked him to please rest. His father had more to say. 'She saw...Je..Je..sus.' 'She is coming.......for me.' Then a gentle, brief smile formed on his lips.
That was the last the Ian spoke to Lind. He quit breathing shortly there after. Oddly, he hadn't asked for the priest to come one last time. Lind wondered what it meant that his father had seen his mother and that she was coming for him. And what did it mean that she had seen Jesus. Surely, he thought, this illness was not brought on by wickedness.
Lind dug another grave next to Winifred's on the grounds of All Saints'. He hoped that someday he'd be able to afford a stone with their names engraved, but for now, a wooden marker would have to do.
The death of his father and mother meant that Lind could move his family into his father's cottage. The cottage was nicer than the small quarters that they had been living in just outside the village and the cottage was closer to the village and to the church. It also meant that Lind's wife, Gleda, no longer had to carry water from the stream. She could easily visit the village well instead. This was a wonderful thing for her as it meant that she no longer had to carry water so far. Lind and Gleda waited until the illness was gone from the towne before they moved into the cottage.
The illness had been such a sever blow to the village that nearly every family had been affected in some way. Most had lost a family member. Lind didn't like to think about it, but the plague had also been a good thing for his family. They now had a cottage of their own far sooner than they might have otherwise. The farm was entirely his. Without the plague, he would have been required to find his own land to farm. That wouldn't be easy since most of the land was already leased from Saint Leonard's Priory or from Lord Burghley. After the plague there was ample land to lease and at a better price. The devastation of the plague though was horrible to watch as families were removed from the land when their husbands and fathers died and the lease could no longer be paid. Such poor creatures were turned off the land that they had been on for generations and were left to beg or to make do as best they could. So, despite the bitterness of losing his father and his mother, Lind's situation had improved greatly on account of the plague. These mixed feelings did cause him to feel ashamed before God.
Lind and Gleda had been married now for five years. They had one child, a boy that they called Bromley and now Gleda was with child again. The prospect of the added responsibility of feeding and clothing another human being weighed heavily on Lind. He had always been a jovial sort, but with the plague and the loss of his parents and now the prospect of an addition to the family, his shoulders were already starting to slump a little and his temples had a hint of gray. Gleda on the other hand was joyous at the news of the new baby.
On the day that they finally were able to move into the cottage the priest from All Saints' paid them a visit. This wasn't to be a social call however, he was on business. He had brought with him a bundle and placed it in Gleda's arms.
'Gud dee to you, Father', greeted Gleda. 'Whot's this then?'
Father Patrick kicked the dirt at his feet and shifted his weight as though he had something to say that he just couldn't bring himself to say. ' 'is name is Richard,' he managed.
'Aye, I do nay care whot 'is name is,' offered Lind, 'whot is 'e doing 'ere?'
'Truth is that 'is mother deed and 'is father can nay care for 'im, so 'e left 'im with me. I need to find 'im a 'ome.'
'You can nay leave 'im 'ere,' protested Lind, 'Can you nay see that I 'ave enuf mouths to feed already?'
'Aye, boot 'e is lit'le and with Gleda's wee one combin' soon, she will 'ave plen'hy of milk for two wee ones. Surely, this is God's will.'
'I do nay know anythin' aboot God's will. Was it God's will that 'is mother deed?' stated Lind.
Gleda, who had already peered into the eyes of the infant, felt that it indeed was God's will. 'Lind,' she said quietly, 'Surely it is God's will. Luk at 'im. 'e will nay be a burden. 'e will nay even eat for sevrul munths. We shall 'ave a crop by then. Do you feel it, Lind?'
Lind knew that he was not going to be successful with any protestations, so he decided to look for the first time into the eyes of the child. As he did, his heart softened and he too felt that it was God's will.
'God bless this 'ouse,' said Father Patrick as he left through the gate. He seemed much lighter on his feet and his countenance was lifted.
Gleda and Lind took Richard into their family and cared for him as their own. Gleda's milk began to flow and Richard began to thrive. Bromley loved the prospect of having a little brother. Within a fortnight Gleda lost her waters. Lind was in the fields planting.
'Bromley!' cried Gleda. 'Ruun and fetch me midwife, Mrs. Reilly. 'urry lad.' Bromley ran as fast as he could up Church Street, past the Bake House to High Street. There he found Mrs. Reilly at the Swan Inn. Lind was already in from the fields when Mrs. Reilly arrived at the cottage. 'You must wait outseed,' she instructed Lind as she went in to see Gleda.
Gleda was already pushing hard and crying out in pain. Lind took Richard in his arms and Bromley by the hand and went across the lane to the church to pray. Mrs. Reilly went about her work with the efficiency that her years of experience had given her.
'You must nay push, me luv, it is too airly.' But, the pushing had already been done and Mrs. Reilly could see the top of a little head.
It seemed like hours, but soon Mrs. Reilly was at the church and called them home. 'Comb and see your girl,' she said to Lind. 'Comb and see your sister,' she invited Bromley.
Lind put aside the cares of the world for a moment as he gave thanks in his heart for the care of God on his family.
Gleda was weak, but had done well. She would recover and wee Richard was placed at her side along with a new little girl. Gleda smiled with contentment, almost as though she had already forgotten her travail.