The Remembered (11 page)

'Yes, go on,' urged Elizabeth.
'This glazier was a yung man and 'e was a journeyman,' said Bromley as he seemed to be stalling to say anymore.
Elizabeth sensed that the worst was yet to be said. Her lip started to quiver and her heart started to race. Then she started crying. Sobbing, she said, 'Where is Richard, Bromley? Tell me where Richard is.'
'I do nay know. All that I know is that I was told that this yung man matching Richard's description fell from one of the windows of the abbey where the work was being dune and deed.' Bromley felt as though he had blurted out the words, but it seemed that was the only way that he was going to be able to get them out.
Elizabeth was sobbing now and fell to her knees in the mud at Bromley's feet. She grabbed his legs and cried out, 'No, this can nay be true. Me Richard can nay be deed.'
Her mother was kneeling next to her now and hugged her close. Neither said a word. Elizabeth laid her head on her mothers breast and cried. Her mother looked up at Bromley and she started to weep.
'I am so soory, Elizabeth,' Bromley offered. He genuinely meant it and his heart ached.
He was uncomfortable with the situation and was not prepared for such emotion. He then did something that he regretted from that moment on. He turned and walked away toward Stamford. He didn't mean any harm, he just was not equipped emotionally to be the support that Elizabeth needed.
After what seemed a hour, Elizabeth lifted her head and wiped her eyes on the shirt that she was wearing. Her face was dirty from traveling and the wetness of the tears left streaks on her face. She slowly stood and looked back down the road. She could still see Bromley slowly trudging along. His shoulders seemed stooped and his head hung. She felt sorry for him. He hadn't wanted the responsibility of carrying such awful news and he must have gone to great effort to find her. Her heart ached for him, for herself and for Richard. She hoped that Bromley would find Margaret well.
As she climbed resolutely into the wagon, her father squeezed her hand. 'Elizabeth,' he said. 'Bromley did nay say that 'e knew for certain. Do nay give up 'ope so easily.'
Elizabeth held the reins in her hand and gazed at her father. 'You are right,' she said, 'I must nay give up 'ope so quickly. I shuld trust in God.'
With her mother in the wagon now, she gave the reins a quick shake and the ox pressed against the harness again. She stared straight ahead with a gaze that didn't focus on anything. Her mind was on Richard. Was it really he who had fallen? How would she know? She should have told Bromley to tell Richard to find her in Trowell if he was alive. But, surely Bromley would do that without her asking.
The ox moved slowly under the strain of the wagon. Elizabeth's brothers fell slightly behind the wagon and spoke to each other in quiet voices. Elizabeth, her father and her mother rode on in silence.
 

November 1437
 

As Bromley walked the road to Stamford, he rehearsed in his mind over and over the conversation with Elizabeth. If he could change one thing, he would have not walked away, but would have remained and comforted her and her family. He felt a little ashamed that he had left. But he didn't know what else to do at the time. He couldn't change that now and so he walked on. He was very hungry and tired by the time that he reached Oakham and decided that he had to rest for the night. He wanted desperately to reach Stamford by the next morning so that he could run with the bulls. He expected that he could reach Stamford in another 3 hours and he resolved to rest and then leave very early in the morning to be there on time.
Outside Oakham he stopped at a farm cottage and asked for a bit of food, but was turned away. He passed a church and decided that the priest there might be as kind to him as the priest in Bourne had been. He knocked at the door and was greeted somewhat coolly. The priest didn't invite him in, but gave him some bread, a little cheese and a cup of milk. Bromley was so grateful. He drank the milk on the step and returned the cup along with his thanks. He expected that he must be quite a sight with all the mud that was on his clothing. It was nearly dark by that time and he figured that he wouldn't have been as kind to a dirty stranger as the priest had been.
Bromley sat beneath a large oak tree outside of towne and enjoyed his meal. He couldn't remember when he had tasted such wonderful bread and cheese. That may have been influenced by his hunger and fatigue. With the pain in his stomach satisfied, he laid down next to the tree for some rest. It was a cold night and he didn't expect to sleep, but he did.
Awakening with a shiver a few hours later, he jumped up and hurried along the road toward Stamford. He had renewed strength now and except for the cold, he felt good. He was no longer wet from the rain, but was cold and wished that he still had the blanket that had been stolen from him.
The sun was up by the time that he reached Stamford and he hurried to the meadows outside the south gate where the bulls were kept. It seemed that half of the towne had gathered and there was quite a stir of excitement in the air. He scanned the crowd for anyone that he might recognize. While he was looking, he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a familiar voice. Turning, he faced a friend from Easton-on-the-hill.
'Oy, I was nay sure that you were going to make it for the rune,' said his friend. 'You 'ave been to Bourne, aye?'
'Aye, and then sume,' replied Bromley. 'I will tell you about it after the rune.'
'So, Margaret is letting you rune, is she?' chided his friend.
'She does nay mind, she wanted me to rune,' said Bromley, stretching the truth just a little.
He wished that he had gotten home in time to stop and see her before the run. She was probably worried about him and it made him feel badly. But, there was no time for that. Soon, the bulls were to be led to the start of the run by ropes attached to their noses. Two ropes would be attached to each bull and a strong man would be on the end of each rope. This would be the only way to keep the wild animals under control, especially since they had been tormented now for several days by the boys of the towne.
The bulls would cross the shallow river and onto the bridge. Once on the bridge, the ropes would be removed and the bulls would be allowed to run. The runners would follow after them with sticks. The run this year was going to be similar to the last several years, in that a route through the towne had been blocked out for the bulls. Bromley had seen a portion of the route when he came into towne this morning. The route would go past Saint Mary's where it would turn to the left toward the Sheep Market. After passing the Sheep Market, the route would turn right toward All Saints'. After passing All Saints', it would follow High Street to Saint George's Street. The bulls would then run south on Saint George's Street near to Saint George's church and then turn right to Saint Mary's church and then south again through the gates, over the bridge and then back to the meadow. The bulls would be tired from running at that point. Once in the meadow, the bulls would be slaughtered and the meat would be shared with the people of the towne.
Everyone in the towne was very excited. Many people would be watching from their windows and cheering for the runners.
It seemed that Bromley had gotten to the meadow none too soon. The mayor and sheriff soon came riding on horseback and cheers went up from the crowd. Finally, the run was about to begin. The mayor gave encouragement to the runners and reminded them to avoid getting in front of the running bulls. The sheriff told the runners to go and wait for the bulls on the towne bridge. The runners lined the bridge, standing on the small block walls that ran along either side of the bridge. In this fashion, the runners were able to avoid the charging bulls as they started the run.
Bromley took his position on the bridge and watched as the bulls were led to the bridge. The bulls became harder to control as they neared the bridge. It was as though they sensed what was happening. The breath of the bulls' was visible in the chilled air and it seemed as though steam was pouring from their nostrils. Their eyes were wide and filled with anger. Those who were leading the bulls released them at the entrance to the bridge and others started whipping the bulls with sticks from behind. It seemed to Bromley that chaos was unleashed and if there were animals from hell, these were they.
As the bulls charged over the bridge toward the gates, the men on the sides of the bridge whipped the bulls with long sticks as they passed. Some men became unstable on their feet from the excitement and fell from the bridge into the water below. It almost seemed that they were the lucky ones. At least one other man fell into the path of the charging bulls. As he did, he instinctively grabbed the person next to him to catch himself, but all he managed to do was to pull his companion into the path of the bulls as well. It all happened so rapidly that Bromley couldn't tell whether they would be okay.
Suddenly, the bulls were running past Bromley and he started swinging his long stick. The sharp whack of his stick told him that he had made contact with a couple of bulls. As soon as the last bull had passed him, Bromley jumped down and onto the bridge with the throng of other men who had done the same. Bromley hadn't considered that the crush of the men could possibly prove as deadly as the crush of the bulls. For a moment he wondered why he had joined in the sport. The thought was fleeting. His heart was racing and his muscles tensed as he lunged forward with the crowd. Soon he was directly behind the bulls. The bulls were slipping on the cobble stoned streets and so they could not run as fast as they might otherwise. This gave opportunity to run along with them and to hit them with the sticks.
Bromley now realized that they had passed All Saints' church and were almost to High Street. The stones on High Street were more even and the bulls were able to put distance between themselves and the few runners that were in the front of the group with Bromley. He decided that he would take a shortcut via Maiden Lane and catch the bulls again on Saint Mary's street. Bromley had just passed Maiden Lane and so he pulled up short and spun around to go back to the lane. Bromley didn't realize it, but he had lost track of one bull and the bull was now behind him. As Bromley spun around toward Maiden Lane, he found that he was only steps away from a charging bull. The bull's lowered head hit Bromley below the waist and while Bromley didn't realize it at the time, the bull's right horn ripped through the big muscle of his left leg and pierced through the leg. The strong muscles of the bull's neck lifted Bromley high into the air and over the bull's back. With a quick snap of its head, the bull's horn released its grip on Bromley's leg and Bromley fell to the ground.
Now he could feel the pain. His leg throbbed and it felt as though hot coals were being rubbed inside. He tried to stand, but fell to the ground. He was now screaming with pain and rolling on the ground. He had never felt such pain. He didn't even know that such pain existed. He looked at his leg and saw that his clothing was ripped and wet with his blood. His head started to spin and suddenly, blackness started to gather in on him and mercifully, he passed out as a result of the pain.
Some onlookers rushed to his side and found that he was breathing.
'Who is this man?' someone asked.
'I 'ave seen 'im, boot I do nay know who 'e is,' someone said.
Just then, his friend came up.
''e is Bromley Easton, of Easton-on-the-'ill,' said his friend.
'Let us carry 'im to that wagon over there and take 'im 'ome,' someone said.
Bromley was loaded on the wagon, still unconscious, and his friend climbed into the wagon with him. His friend noted that there was not as much blood as he would have expected and the bleeding seemed to have slowed.
It took nearly an hour to reach Easton-on-the-hill and Bromley had regained consciousness a couple of times, but had almost immediately blacked out again.
Margaret was in Easton-on-the-hill returning from a shoppe when she heard shouting behind her. Turning, she saw a wagon slowly making its way up Church Street. A few people had left their homes and shoppes as the wagon neared.
'Whot is this?' she wondered. Then someone started waving and yelling her name.
'Margaret, Bromley is 'urt. Comb quickly,' Bromley's friend yelled to her.
Margaret dropped her package and ran to the wagon. The site of Bromley laying unconscious, with blood-soaked clothing shocked her and she felt faint. She managed to gain control and gasped.
'Is 'e deed?' she cried. 'Is 'e deed?'
She climbed into the wagon and kneeled beside him, cradling his head in her lap.
'Nay,' said Bromley's friend, ''e is nay deed.'
'Whot 'appened to 'im?' Margaret managed through sobs of anguish. She had expected him to be home two days earlier and now she feared the worst.
''e was running with the bulls and sume'ow a bull gored 'im.'
'Is 'e deed? 'e luks deed,' cried Margaret.
'Nay, 'e is nay deed. I think 'e will revive.'
The wagon was in front of Lind and Gleda's cottage now. Lind had been patching the side of the cottage and saw the wagon pull up with Margaret inside. Margaret saw Lind and cried out to him with an anguished cry.
'It is Bromley,' she sobbed, ''e was gored by a bull in the rune.'
'No,' cried Lind. 'I told 'im to never rune with the bulls! Gleda, comb quick.'
Geva ran out of the cottage followed by Gleda. Lind and the other men were lifting Bromley out of the wagon. The movement and commotion caused Bromley to awaken a bit. He looked up and saw his beloved Margaret.
'Margaret, me luv,' whispered Bromley, 'I am so soory.'
'Shhh, me luv,' replied Margaret between sobs. 'Be still.'
Bromley cried out in pain now as they moved him into the house. Gleda had laid a blanket on the floor and they gently placed Bromley on it.
Gleda and Geva held Margaret close and cried with her. Margaret whimpered and told them what had happened so far as she was aware. Bromley's friend filled in the details as he knew them. He then began to feel awkward and went outside with the other men who had brought Bromley home. It seemed that the news had traveled the entire village already and a small crowd had gathered outside. The friend and the men who had brought Bromley climbed into the wagon and rode away.
Inside the cottage, Bromley was unconscious again. Gleda was attending to the wound. She had cut away the clothing and was washing the wound to clean it as best she could. Margaret couldn't look at the wound, but Gleda insisted that Geva pay attention so that she could learn.
Lind took Margaret outside and tried to comfort her.
'Will 'e lose 'is leg?' asked Margaret.
'I do nay believe that 'e will lose 'is leg,' Lind assured her.
'Why did 'e rune with the bulls? And, where 'as 'e been? 'e shuld 'ave been 'ome two dees ago,' said Margaret.
'I am sure that 'e 'ad a reason for 'is delay,' Lind said reassuringly. 'I do nay like the bull rune meself.'
'Well, at least winter is combing and 'e will nay be needed on the farm,' said Margaret, trying to be positive.
'Aye,' said Lind.
Gleda soon called them inside. She had dressed the wound in the fashion that had been taught her by her mother. She had used some of the meager amount of honey that they had as a suave and had wrapped the wound in cloth. Fortunately, the wound was not bleeding.
Bromley was sleeping so they did not disturb him. He slept most of the rest of the day and night. After the long and quick walk that he had to Bourne, then almost to Melton Mowbray and back, he was exhausted.
When Bromley opened his eyes the next morning, Margaret was beside him.
'Gud morning, me luv,' greeted Margaret with a smile. 'I was so afraid that I wuld lose you. Please do nay rune with the bulls again.'
'I promise,' whispered Bromley. He smiled at her and closed his eyes again.
'You must be so very 'ungry,' said Margaret. 'I 'ave sume food for you.'
With that Bromley opened his eyes and smiled. 'Aye, I am very 'ungry,' he agreed.
As he ate, Margaret asked him where he had been, and why he had not returned from Bourne right away. He had been so caught up in the pain of his injury and had also been sleeping so long, that he hadn't thought about telling them what he had learned in Bourne. He promised to tell her, but insisted that she go and get his mother and father first. He only wanted to share this news one time.
Geva came into the cottage along with Lind and Gleda. She wasn't going to miss any news that Bromley might have to tell. When they had all gathered around him, he explained that he had gone to Bourne to look for Richard and that he hadn't found any glazier work being done there. He explained how he had spoken with the priest, who said that the glazier's had finished their work and had moved on, but he wasn't certain where. He thought that they had gone to Boston.