The Remembered (9 page)

Richard woke with a start the next morning. He was the only one in the bed now. He instinctively checked for the pouch tied to his finger. It was there. Next he checked for his woolen blanket. It too was there. He opened his eyes to check for his coat that he had left on the floor and saw a man of portly appearance standing near the bed putting on the robes of a monk.
'Greetings Traveler,' smiled the monk cheerfully. 'I trust that you slept well. Give thanks for the dee that God 'as given you.'
'Aye, if it is nay raining, it is a beaut'iful dee indeed,' replied Richard as he tried to focus his eyes and clear his head.
'And whot brings you to Grimsthorpe, Traveler?'
'I am on me way to Bourne.'
'Bourne is only two 'ours easy walking 'ence, why did you nay go there last night?' asked the monk.
'After walking in the fog and rain all dee, I culd nay continue,' replied Richard.
'Aye, I am on me way to Bourne meself and culd nay continue walking in the rain. Me knees are nay as strong as they once were,' said the monk as he sat down on the only chair in the room and began to rub his knees. 'So I stopped 'ere last night. God led me to this place,'
Richard was up now and had his coat on and had gathered his satchel.
'Will you be on your way then so airly?' asked the monk. 'Will you nay break your fast before you go?'
'I 'ave lit'le muney for food and whot I do 'ave must be saved. I will eat the remainder of the bread that I brought with me,' replied Richard.
Richard was a little surprised at how easily he spoke to the monk. It seemed that the monk was able to extract any information from him that he wanted and Richard willingly conveyed it. But Richard felt completely at ease with this stranger.
'Please, 'ave a meal with me,' offered the monk 'and I will pay the bill.'
''ow 'as a monk muney?' asked Richard, but then he felt that the question was impertinent. 'Please forgive me, I shuld nay 'ave asked.'
The monk laughed at the suggestion that the question was improper. 'God 'as been gud. Shall we 'ave food together?'
Richard realized that his stomach was demanding attention and he thought that a hot meal would be a wonderful start to the day. He would be in Bourne soon enuf. 'Aye, kind sir, I am grateful to you.'
Richard and the monk sat down at a table near the fire and a window. It was a beautiful day. Richard wondered why it was that yesterday could not have been so pleasant.
As they ate, the monk asked Richard why he was going to Bourne. When Richard replied that he was a journeyman glazier and that he had heard that glass work was being done at the Bourne Abbey, the monk replied, 'Nay me sone, that work is completed. You see, I am from the Bourne Abbey and have been on a trip for the Abbey to Grantham for a week. The work on the windows was completed the week before I left.'
This came as a shock to Richard. What was he to do now he wondered. There would be no point in going back to Stamford so soon, he needed to find work.
'Are you sure?' questioned Richard and immediately he felt that he had overstepped his bounds by appearing to not believe the word of a monk. 'Soory, I do nay mean to doubt you. It is just so disappointing to 'ear this news.'
'Aye, I am sure,' stated the monk. Then sensing Richard's plight, he suggested, 'Comb with me to the Abbey. You can see for yourself and maybe we can learn of work being dune elsewhere.'
'I am grateful. I am so close to Bourne now, that I may as well do as you say.'
'It is set'eld then,' exclaimed the monk. 'I will also see that you 'ave fresh provisions before you leave Bourne. We wuld nay send you away withoot provision.'
Richard was grateful and felt better about the situation.
The monk made a good companion for the short remainder of the trip to Bourne. He seemed to talk the entire way. Richard didn't remember much of what the monk said, but he would never forget about the glazier that the monk said had fallen from the abbey while placing a window. The glazier had died. Richard had never heard of such a thing and wondered about the danger associated with placing windows in high locations.
Richard had never been inside an abbey. The first thing that he noticed when they arrived was that everyone seemed to have a job to do and a place to be. They arrived just prior to the midday meal and all of the monks were gathering from about the abbey and coming in from the nearby fields. They gathered in a large hall filled with lines of tables and benches. The meal was to be bread and meat. The meat was a treat for Richard since he didn't often get the chance to eat such a wonderful meal. Before they ate, someone read a prayer in Latin that Richard did not understand. Following the prayer, they ate in silence.
Richard was introduced to the monk that had overseen the work on the windows. The monk showed him the windows in the west end of the chapel. Richard could observe from his position on the floor of the chapel that the work was exquisite. The scenes centered around the life of Christ and His parables. The light hadn't yet found full entrance through the window and yet the colors were brilliant. Richard felt that he could observe the window for hours.
According to the monk, the glaziers had moved on to Boston for work on St. Botolph's Church. Richard was disappointed indeed. Boston was another very long day walk at best or two days walk if the weather didn't hold up. He considered what this meant for the commitment that he had made Elizabeth to be gone no longer than necessary. Even if he found work there and didn't start right away, it was a day or two there, at least two days home; and added to the two days that he had already been gone, was about a week total that he would be away from Elizabeth (counting the Lord's day of no traveling). But what choice did he have? That night he prayed that Elizabeth would be cared for and that he might yet find work in Boston.
Richard was up early the next morning, anxious to get on his way to Boston. The monks were very kind and loaded him with as much food as he could carry and with an extra blanket. To further conserve his money, Richard planned to sleep in the woods rather than find other lodgings. He hoped and prayed that the weather would hold good.
Richard made a good distance that day. The weather was good and his strength held up due to the abundance of food that was given to him by the monks. He stayed in the woods a few miles outside Boston. He found an old log with a cut away bank beneath it. He was able to hollow the bank out a little more and found some dried leaves for a bed. It started raining shortly after he completed making his shelter. He gave thanks for the shelter and prayed for Elizabeth and her father.
Richard had planned to arise before the sun was up, but was discouraged from doing so by the continued rain and cold. The extra blanket had been a welcomed asset and even more so since it was dry. His own blanket was still damp from the rain the day before. He was not looking forward to another walk in the rain. Fortunately, it would be a short walk into Boston. He ate some food before leaving the shelter and set a brisk pace despite the mud.
It appeared that today was going to be a market day in Boston because already there were plenty of travelers on the road with Richard. Most were farmers or craftsman with wagon's loaded. Some were wealthy individual's on horseback. Each time a wagon approached from behind, Richard stepped to the side of the road to let it pass. The mud and water were even deeper on the side of the road. After several wagons passed, one driver asked Richard whether he would like a ride. Gratefully, Richard climbed into the wagon. As he rode along, he wondered whether today was a market day in Stamford and whether Elizabeth was going to the market. It seemed odd to him that he had to consider in his mind something that he should have instinctively known. After all, he had been in Stamford all of his life, he should intrinsically know whether it was a market day. He reasoned that the unusual nature of the last couple of days was a little disorienting.
Although a light rain was falling, it was easy to see St. Botolph's in the distance. The Fens' terrain was vast and flat, and the church was very large for a parish church. It rose from the landscape like a large, bare tree trunk in the distance.
Richard arrived in Boston about the time that the towne was waking up. Boston was a busy towne, more crowded and busy than Stamford. Being close to the North Sea and with a tidal river to provide easy docking and passage, Boston was a prime location for trade. Richard would have liked to have visited the market, but with limited funds and a pressing need for work, he headed straight to St. Botolph's.
Richard took courage when he neared the church because it was clear that glass work was being done. He could see a number of openings that were void of glass and other areas that had ample missing sections that would need to be replaced.
Soon, he found the Glazier's shoppe near the church and went inside. The heat of the fire was a most welcoming feeling. The smells and sights of the shoppe made him feel instantly at home.
'Oy, I am Richard Easton of Stamford,' he said to one of the workers who was giving orders to another worker. 'Where can I find the Master?'
'I am 'e, whot do you want,' said the Master Glazier without so much as looking over his shoulder.
'I am a journeyman glazier and need work,' replied Richard.
The master glazier finished stretching the came that he was working on, laid down his tools and turned slowly to face Richard. Richard was surprised at the seemingly ancient age of the master. He had assumed that the master was bent over the table to be closer to his work, but the master didn't straighten as he faced Richard. Richard felt a little uncomfortable towering over the master in such a way so he took a step backward.
'Are you any gud?'
'Aye, and I have a let'er from the master in Stamford,' replied Richard and produced the letter from his satchel.
The master glazier studied the letter closely, but Richard noticed that the letter was upside down.
'Take that table over there,' said the Master pointing to a table in the corner. 'The pat'ern is on that roll in the corner.'
'I am grateful to you, sir,' said Richard and went to the table and started work.
Richard was so glad to have the work and he was so thankful to have a trade that was indoors and out of the rain. The day passed quickly.
At the end of the day, Richard approached the master.
'Sir, I am grateful for the work.'
'Aye, you do gud work. We are be'ind schedule on this job. I am glad that you came when you did.'
'And I am grateful, sir. I do need to return to Stamford and fetch me wife. It wuld only take a few dees.'
'Nay, we are too far be'ind schedule I need you 'ere for at least a fortnight before I can let you go.'
Richard considered his options, which were limited. There was likely no other work in the townes nearby. A fortnight would not be too long. He had let Elizabeth know that he could possibly be gone a fortnight. Of course, this meant that he would likely be gone a week and a fortnight.
'Aye, it is agreed then,' Richard replied with a little hesitation.
Richard then asked whether he might spend a night or two in the shoppe, the master agreed.
The next several days passed slowly despite the fact that Richard was busy with his work. When he wasn't concentrating on the delicate cuts necessitated by the pattern that he was working, he was thinking of Elizabeth. Was she at the market? Was she preparing a meal? Was she washing clothes? Outside of sleeping, the only time that he was certain that he knew where she was and what she was doing was on the Lord's day. That Sunday in church he imagined that she was sitting next to him. He felt comforted.
At the end of the fortnight, Richard received his pay and bade leave of the master, promising to return within the week. The master was very pleased with his work and insisted that Richard make haste to return.
 

1437
November 1437

Elizabeth woke slowly and reached across the bed where Richard slept. She roused with a start at the realization that he was not there. Where he had lain the night before was now cold to her touch. Tears filled her eyes. How she wished that he had awaken her to say goodbye. But she knew that it was like Richard to be considerate of her and to not wake her unnecessarily.
At the realization that he was gone, she had no desire to get out of the bed, but she didn't have the luxury of staying in bed. Doing so would not put food on the table. As she arose, she discovered the note that Richard had left for her. She could read very little, as it was not custom to teach the girls of common families to read. Still, she was able to make out the words:
".... Maiden, I love you .... heart. I ... back ... you soon.... ... I ... sing ... song and think of you ... day. - Richard"
She held the note close to her heart and closed her tearing eyes. Carefully she folded the note and put it into her pouch. She would check on it often in the coming days to ensure that it was safe.
After several days of waiting for Richard, Elizabeth began to worry. Was he safe? Had he found work? Surely, if he was gone this long, it was good news. That would mean that he must have found work. But, traveling presented many dangers, he could be injured or worse. Perhaps he was sick with the same illness that plagued her father.
Elizabeth kept very busy working the garden, and field with her brothers and had taken produce to the market on a couple of days. She was accustomed to hard work and fully expected that would be her lot in life. She didn't mind, but she had felt ill most mornings recently. The illness made it difficult to do her morning work, but she generally felt better in the afternoons. She wondered whether she was getting the same illness that her father had. Her father was improving it seemed, but very slowly. Elizabeth was concerned whether she and her brothers would be able to keep up the garden and field long enough for him to get better.
Elizabeth and her brothers had gone to the market and were returning when she noticed their landowner on his horse riding away from their cottage. As the wagon that she was driving pulled slowly up to the cottage she discovered her mother crying in the garden.
'Mum, whot is wrong,' asked Elizabeth. She knew that her mother was a strong woman and crying did not come easily to her. 'Is father more ill?' For a moment, Elizabeth's only thought was that her father had died. The very thought caused a sense of panic within Elizabeth's breast and breathing became difficult.
Her brothers had lighted from the wagon and had dashed into the house to check on their father.
'No, me luv. Father is no worse than 'e was this morning,' said her mother between sobs.
'Whot is it then, Mum?'
'We are to be off the land and oot of the cot'age by the end of the week,' cried her mother.
'Whot?' exclaimed Elizabeth. ''ow can that be? We 'ave been 'ere all of me life. Why must we leave?'
'We 'ave been be'ind on our rent since before your father was ill,' said her mother without looking up. 'Now that your father is ill, we just do nay 'ave the muney. We were 'oping that we culd make up the rent, boot now we can nay do it.'
'Where will we go, then?' asked Elizabeth. 'Whot will becomb of us?'
'We will go to Trowell, near to Not'ing'am.'
'Why will we go there, whot will we do?' asked Elizabeth with some urgency in her voice. ''ow will Richard find us?'
'Your father 'as a sister there, we will ask 'er for 'elp.'
''ow will Richard find us? I will stay 'ere until 'e returns.'
'You can nay stay 'ere child,' said her mother. 'You can let the Easton's know where we 'ave gone and they will tell Richard. 'e will find you there.'
'I will stay with the Easton's then,' exclaimed Elizabeth as she tried to contain her emotions.
'You can nay stay with the Easton's. I must 'ave your 'elp since your father is ill. I and the boys can nay do it withoot you,' pled her mother.
Elizabeth could no longer contain her emotions and she ran inside to see her father. The news that they must leave the land had injured her father's already frail health. She could see that he was laboring with the news. She wanted to plead with him, but she held her tongue for his sake.
The next morning Elizabeth left as soon as she could to go to Easton-on-the-hill. The first person that she saw when she neared the Easton's cottage was Margaret. She ran and held Margaret close and between sobs let the news pour out of her. Lind and Bromley were already in the pasture caring for the animals, and Margaret took Elizabeth inside to speak with Gleda and Geva.
Gleda and Geva were visibly shaken by the news.
'Stay 'ere with us,' urged Geva.
'Yes, me luv,' agreed Gleda, 'you must stay 'ere.'
'I can nay stay 'ere,' sobbed Elizabeth as she explained that her father's poor health required that she go with the family.
'I will send Bromley to fetch Richard,' offered Margaret. 'Bourne is nay far.'
'Why is 'e delayed?' questioned Geva.
''e must have found work,' offered Gleda hopefully.
'Sending Bromley will nay do gud, it will be too late. We are leaving tomorrow,' cried Elizabeth.
'Even still, I will send Bromley perchance Richard is still in Bourne working. Richard can then catch up with your family on the road to Trowell. ' insisted Margaret.
'Yes, please do send 'im,' agreed Elizabeth. This comforted her greatly and she dried her eyes on her dress. She looked up for the first time and coaxed a smile to her face. Her red eyes and smile made quite a sight and the four women had a good laugh as they embraced each other.
Elizabeth didn't feel so well and attributed it to her quick walk to Easton-on-the-hill and to her distress.
'You poor dear, you must stay and 'ave sume bread and but'er before you return to Burghley,' insisted Gleda.
Gleda gave her some bread and butter and Elizabeth rested for a few minutes. On the way back to Burghley, Elizabeth again didn't feel well and lost the food that she had eaten. Suddenly, the illness made sense to her. 'I am nay ill,' she almost exclaimed out loud, 'I am with child.' She resolved right then that Richard would be the first to know. This new realization gave her great pleasure and turned her tears of sorrow to tears of joy and she said a silent prayer of thanks to God for this blessing.
Arriving in Burghley, she found her mother and brothers loading the wagon with their few household items and some farming equipment.
'Why are you loading the wagon?' asked Elizabeth.
Her mother was carrying one of their two wooden chairs to the wagon and didn't even look in Elizabeth's direction when she answered. 'The landowner came this morning and told us that we must be off todee,' exclaimed her mother.
'Todee?' asked Elizabeth with some disbelief. 'Why wuld 'e do that to us?' She instinctively placed her hands on her face as though to contain her emotions and gazed around the surroundings that were so familiar to her.
'I 'ate 'im,' proclaimed one of Elizabeth's brothers.
'Shhh, lad,' insisted her mother. She had placed the chair in the wagon and was heading back into the cottage. 'We will start our trip to Trowell. If it rains, we will sleep beneath the wagon.'
'And if it snows...' Elizabeth started to ask. Her mother stopped and faced her for the first time.
'We 'ave no choice, lass. It will nay snow todee and may nay snow for weeks. Either way, we must be off.'
After loading the wagon, they hitched the ox and slowly pulled away from the cottage. Elizabeth's father lay in one corner of the wagon amongst the household items, her two brothers walked, Elizabeth drove the wagon and her mother sat next to her. Elizabeth looked straight ahead, not daring to glance back at the only house that she had ever known. Despite not looking back, she couldn't help but think about the wonderful childhood that she had spent there. The large oak trees that stood guard and the creek that ran nearby were etched into her memory forever.
It was a couple hours before sunset when they left the cottage. Elizabeth wasn't even sure how far it was to Trowell or how long it might take to get there. She had heard of Nottingham, but all she knew concerning it was that Robin Hood had supposedly lived in the woods nearby, a wood called Sherwood Forest. She had heard that the wood was a dangerous place full of robbers. Her father assured her that their route to Trowell would be south of the wood and that there was nothing to fear. Her father was vaguely familiar with the road there, having traveled it once.
The roadway was fairly dry, making travel easier and a little quicker, but they were only able to make it as far as Empingham before it got dark. They stopped for the night at an inn. They had little money, but the innkeeper accepted some potatoes as payment. Elizabeth's father was afraid that someone would steal the wagon and their belongings during the night, so he insisted that Elizabeth's brothers spend the night outside with the wagon.
The next morning as they were preparing to leave the inn, the innkeeper asked them where it was that they were headed. Elizabeth's father did not want to share their plans exactly, so he told him that they were traveling to Oakham.
'Aye, you will 'ave gud weather if you are only going to Oakham,' said the innkeeper.
'Aye, the weather is fair,' replied her father.
'You shuld nay travel with suuch a pret'y lass,' said the innkeeper looking at Elizabeth. 'There are plent'y of robbers in the woods.'
'Nay, we will be fine,' replied Elizabeth's father, but he had been concerned about that exact thing.
After they were outside Empingham, Elizabeth's father told her to stop the wagon.
'Get in that bag, me luv and retrieve sume of me old clothes,' he told Elizabeth. 'Put them on be'ind that tree over there.'
'Nay Father, I will nay wear man's clothing,' protested Elizabeth. 'It is 'eresy. Do you nay recall whot they did to the maiden in France?'
'Aye, boot she wore man's clothing as a woman. You will be wearing the clothing to appear as a boy. No one will know that you are a woman.'
'Boot Father...,' Elizabeth started to protest.
'Do as I say, Lass,' exerted her father.
Elizabeth quickly changed into the clothing. Wearing man's clothing was very distasteful to her and she felt that it was a sin against God. Still, she was obedient to her father.
______
Bromley kissed Margaret and told her goodbye. 'I shall be 'ome before nightfall.'
'You 'ad bet'er be,' said Margaret smiling. 'I will nay sleep until I 'ave you in me arms. Now off with you. 'urry and find your brother.'
As Bromley neared the meadows just outside the gates of Stamford he saw that several bulls had been pastured there in preparation for the annual running with the bulls in Stamford. Though the running of the bulls was an ancient tradition in Stamford, he had never been allowed by his father to participate. But now, he thought, 'I am married and can do as I wish.' The bulls weren't running for three days hence and so he was sure that he would have no problem getting back from Bourne so that he could also run. He stopped and watched for several minutes as some men and boys from the towne poked and tormented the bulls with sticks. Bromley had heard that tormenting the bulls for several days made them wilder. When the bulls were wild, running with them was exciting. Still Bromley wasn't sure that it was necessary to torment them so. They looked very wild already. Following the run, the bulls would be butchered and the villagers would be invited to enjoy the feast. Bromley thought that Margaret would enjoy that very much.
It was soon after midday when Bromley reached Bourne. He straightway looked for the Glazier shoppe, but there was no such shoppe to be found. He decided to visit the church and see whether glass work had been done there or whether the priest could say where the glaziers had gone.
Bromley found the priest at the church working amongst the headstones in the church yard. The priest was facing away from Bromley and was clearing some grass away from a headstone. Bromley didn't wish to startle the priest, so before getting too close, he cleared his throat and said, 'Oy, Father.'
Turning and rising to his feet, the priest greeted Bromley, 'Gud dee, me sone. Is it nay a beaut'iful dee? No rain yet todee.'
'Aye, it is a luvly dee,' agreed Bromley.
'You are nay from Bourne, are you sone,' observed the priest, eyeing Bromley closely.
'Nay, I am luking for me brother, a glazier. 'e came 'ere for work. I do nay see any glaziers working in Bourne. 'ave you seen 'im, or can you tell me where the glaziers are?'
'Nay, there is no glass work being dune in Bourne. There was work being dune at the abbey, boot the glaziers finished that work and left recently,' the priest told Bromley.
'Do you know where they went after finishing the work?' asked Bromley.
'Nay, sume say that they went to Boston, boot I do nay know. It was a shame that one of them deed on their last dee 'ere.'
'One of them deed?' asked Bromley hoping to get more information.
'Aye, they say 'e fell as 'e was placing a window.'
'And this man that deed, do you know 'is name?' asked Bromley.
'I am nay certain that anyone knows 'is name, 'e was recently comb to Bourne. All I know is that 'e was from sumewhere south of Bourne.'
'Whot did 'e luk like, then?'
The priest looked down at the ground and scratched his head and said, 'Well, as I recall, 'e was taller than sume and 'e 'ad dark 'air. I know 'e was a yung man, boot  'e was a journeyman.'
'That sounds just like me brother,' stammered Bromley and he felt a lump grow in his throat.