The Remembered

Chapter Sixteen

1456

Lincoln, England



Richard finished soldering the section of window that he had been working on and stood back to admire the result. The window had taken several days to complete. He thought that it was truly magnificent and was proud that it would serve to praise God for years to come. This section was the last of a large window that told the story of the ministry of the Savior, culminating in his resurrection and empty tomb. The window was made of an accumulation of small pieces, each of which had been painted by an artist and then fired to set the pigment.

Richard would help to set the window in place at the church tomorrow and then his work in Lincoln would be complete. Once again he and Margaret would leave and search for work elsewhere.

Following the death of Bromley, Richard had searched diligently for Elizabeth. But, it seemed that she had disappeared. Margaret had been very supportive. He was working in Boston at the time, and after he asked Margaret to marry him, he returned to Boston with the promise that he would return and marry her if Elizabeth did not return by then.

As he headed for home that evening, Richard thought about his life with Margaret.

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1438

Stamford, England



It had been a long, warm day and Margaret was finishing her work in the fields. She instinctively looked down the hill, across the open fields to where the road to Stamford broke free of the trees as it neared the towne meadow and bridge.

'Luking for Richard again are you, me luv,' Gleda questioned her. 'I see you luking in that direction so much, me luv, that it is a wonder that you get any work dune at'all.'

'I can nay stop meself, mum,' replied Margaret. ''e 'as been gone so long. I expect 'im back every dee.'

'I am sure that 'e will be back soon enuf, luv. You shuld nay worry.'

'I can nay 'elp meself, mum. Whot if 'e is injured, or 'e is ill? Maybe 'e 'as found another woman.'

'That is nay like Richard. 'e is faithful. 'e will return soon,' Gleda tried to assure her.

Margaret wasn't certain whether she was more concerned for Richard or for herself. She also felt guilt because of her relief that Elizabeth hadn't returned. She hesitated to think about the future if Richard didn't return soon. She felt that her welcome in the Easton cottage was not going to last forever and that Geva and Ralf would want to move in soon and push her out. If Richard didn't return, she might be forced to return to her father's house and seek lodging there. She realized that there was no guarantee that her father would welcome another mouth to feed, especially one that he had so recently been relieved of. And if her father would not have her back, her options were very limited. Perhaps she would have to seek refuge in an abbey.

'Gleda, luk,' exclaimed Margaret. 'Is that nay Richard?'

'Where, me luv?' asked Gleda with excitement.

'There, on the bridge,' said Margaret, pointing in the direction of Stamford.

'Oh, Margaret, your imagination has got'en the bet'er of you. That is too far, me luv. You can barely make oot a person on the bridge. You certainly can nay say that it is Richard.'

'Nay, I am sure that it is 'm,' exclaimed Margaret and she started running across the open field.

Gleda yelled for her to come back and wait, but there was no point. Margaret was determined. She ran across the field and into the trees hoping to meet Richard as he walked the road. The bushes and limbs of the trees whipped her face as she hurried through the stand of trees. When she broke through the trees and onto the road, Richard was not in sight, and she called out his name in anticipation. There was a bend in the road at that point and she ran back down the road toward Stamford, assuming that she had reached that point of the road before Richard had. When she rounded the bend she almost ran straight into a traveler.

'Richar...,' she exclaimed and then realized that it was not Richard at all. 'Forgive me, sir,' Margaret said with embarrassment.

'No need, lass,' the stranger said with a smile that bothered Margaret greatly.

The stranger quickly took hold of Margaret's arm and pulled her close to himself.

'And who is this Richard?' he asked. ''e is a luky man, boot nay so luky as meself.'

Margaret struggled to break free of his grasp, but he was too strong. She started hitting him and yelling for help. The stranger forcefully put his hand over her mouth to muffle her cries as he dragged her off the road. Margaret managed to break free of his grasp and she ran for the road. She didn't get but a few steps and the stranger grabbed her from behind and held her more tightly than before.

'You can nay get away from me, lass,' he exclaimed directly into her ear through clenched teeth.

Margaret again screamed and struggled to free herself and the stranger again muffled her cries with his hand. To ensure that she couldn't break free again, the stranger grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled on it tightly.

Again he pulled her off the road and into the trees. Suddenly, a large stick cracked near Margaret's head and she realized that someone had hit the stranger with it. The stranger relaxed his grip on her and she ran back up the road without looking back. She stopped as she entered the trees on the other side and looked back to see who had beaten the stranger. She watched ever so briefly as the two men struggled. She was sure that she saw the flash of steel in the stranger's hand, but he fell when the other person struck him again with the stick. Margaret turned and ran through the trees back toward the open field. Just as she broke through the trees and into the field, she heard her name called from behind her.

'Margaret!'

She was very frightened and would not stop.

'Margaret!' the person behind her yelled again. 'It is Richard!'

Margaret stopped and turned to see Richard running through the trees and coming toward her in the field. Margaret was so scared that she nearly ran away from him, but then recognition finally overtook her fears.

'Richard!' she exclaimed and ran to him and fell into his arms. She had lost her strength to stand and he lowered her to a sitting position and kneeled beside her. He held her close, all the while keeping an eye on the edge of the trees should the stranger pursue them.

'Richard,' she exclaimed again, 'you 'ave comb back!'

'Yes, me luv,' replied Richard softly as he kissed her forehead, 'I 'ave comb back for you. I 'ave thought aboot you every dee and 'ave longed to be with you.'

Margaret was crying now because of the scare that she had experienced and also because Richard had come back to her.

Richard explained that he had left the road and was walking through the fields from Stamford to Easton-on-the-hill when he saw a woman run into the woods toward the road.

'It appeared to be you, me luv and I called oot your name,' said Richard. 'When you did nay stop, I ran after you. I 'eard you call me name and I knew that it was you. I called back, boot you did nay 'ear me.'

'Oh, Richard,' Margaret spoke between sobs, 'I am grateful that you comb back. Praise be to God that you are 'ere.'

Richard helped Margaret up and they walked hand in hand back to the Easton's cottage where the family received them joyously.

The next day, Richard suggested that they go straight away to the All Saints' Church in Stamford and be married.

'We 'ave a perfectly gud church right across the lane, Richard,' suggested Gleda. 'Why wuld you go into Stamford?'

'Aye, boot I 'ave always intended to be married in the All Saints' Church, mum,' replied Richard.

'Did you nay marry Elizabeth in the All Saints' Church?' asked Geva.

'Aye,' replied Richard.

'Margaret does nay wish to be married in the same church,' stated Geva.

Gleda looked at Geva as if to scold her for raising painful memories.

'I wuld luv to marry you in the All Saints' Church, Richard,' said Margaret as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Richard smiled and said, 'It is set'eld then. Let us be off now. Who will go with us?'

'We can nay go todee, Richard. There is much work in the fields,' replied Gleda. 'Lind is already gone.'

'I will nay be put off another dee,' stated Richard emphatically. 'Margaret, shall we go alone?'

Margaret smiled and her eyes sparkled. 'Aye, me luv, let us be off,' she replied.

Margaret put on her best dress, it was her only other dress. Richard thought that she looked lovely. The dress was made of wool that had been dyed blue. The bodice fit Margaret's form well and the skirt hung long from the waist. The sleeves reached her wrists and were close to her arms the entire length. She wore a dark blue rope as a belt around her waist. The rope was tied loosely and it hung slightly in front. Her hair was braided and wrapped tightly in the back of her head. Her head was covered with a cloth cap that covered her head and sides of her face to the chin and also hung to the shoulders in the back.

The priest at the All Saints' Church was happy to perform their marriage and advised them to minimize their time apart, perchance they should get separated. The couple knew too well the significance of that advice in a country that lacked the means for common people to send messages over even relatively short distances.

After their marriage, Richard and Margaret left almost immediately to go to Boston where Richard was still working on the church windows. It was a pleasant time for them, but there was a sadness when children did not come. Year after year, they had hoped and prayed for a child, but had decided that it must be God's will that they remain childless. Margaret carried a silent burden in her heart that perhaps God was punishing Richard for marrying her. Perhaps it was God's will that he continue his search for Elizabeth. If not for herself, she reasoned, Richard may have continued searching.

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1456

Lincoln, England



When Richard reached his house that evening he found that Margaret had finished cleaning in preparation to leave Lincoln the next day. They had sold their few excess belongs and had purchased a wagon for their remaining household items. The wagon was small and would be pulled by their cow. Work in Lincoln had been good and they had prospered rather well for people of their station.

''ello, me luv,' Margaret greeted Richard with a smile and an embrace. 'When will you be removing that beard from your face?'

Richard had grown a beard against the cold of the winter, but he had gotten accustomed to it and didn't know whether he wanted to remove it.

'Aye, do you nay luv me beard? I do nay know that I will remove it,' he said with a smile. Margaret rubbed her hands on his beard and smiled.

'Are you ready to leave this place, me luv,' asked Richard.

'Aye, and I am ready to leave tomorrow, though I do nay wish to leave this place,' Margaret said as she looked about the room. Despite the fact that they had no children, there were many sweet memories of their time in Lincoln. Having grown up in Easton-on-the-hill in a family that had farmed for generations, Margaret hadn't expected to marry a man that was required to move from place to place in search of the next job. The fact that they didn't have children made it easier, but leaving was always difficult. It meant leaving friends, selling excess items, traveling sometimes dangerous roads, finding work, finding new lodgings and hopefully, finding some new friends.

Richard had heard that there was work in Calais, France. England was still at war with France, but Calais was solidly under English control. It had been Richard's intention to leave Margaret with Geva and Ralf at Easton-on-the-hill while he went in search of work in France. With his family and her family both at Easton-on-the-hill, he felt that it would have been safe to leave her there. But, she would not hear of it. She couldn't help but feel that being separated from him would end badly. Richard knew that traveling such a distance could present hazards that he didn't wish to face with his wife, but to please her, he would do so.

The next morning, Richard returned to the Glazier's shoppe and helped to transport and install the window that he had finished the night before in the church. When he looked at the completed window, he knew that he would never seen it again. He felt a sweet, peaceful feeling as he considered the life of the Savior as depicted in the window. He then said a silent prayer of thanks and returned home to Margaret.

It was after midday when Richard and Margaret loaded their remaining household items on the small wagon and hitched the cow to it. This was the first time that the cow had pulled a wagon and she initially balked, but is wasn't long before she was accustomed to the load.

To get to Calais, they would take a boat from Dover, England and since the road to Dover passed through Stamford, Richard decided that they would leave the cow and wagon with Geva and Ralf. If there was substantial work in Calais, Richard would return to Easton-on-the-hill and sell their belongs. If there was not sufficient work, they would return to Easton-on-the-hill and retrieve their belongings. Either way, Geva and Ralf would have use of the cow for some time.

The weather was good and it took them only 5 days to reach Stamford. They chose to sleep by the wagon each night to save their funds. If the weather turned bad, they would then have money to sleep in an inn.

Things change slowly in Stamford and so Richard was shocked to see from a distance the steeple on the All Saints' Church.

'Margaret, luk,' exclaimed Richard as he pointed to the church in the distance. 'The All Saints' Church 'as a steeple.'

'Aye, it is wonderful,' replied Margaret.

'I am sure that the Darby's must 'ave paid for it,' said Richard. 'They luv that church like I do, boot I culd nay buy one stone for the work.'

'Aye, boot if you culd, you wuld, me luv,' observed Margaret as she smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

The road through Stamford passes by the All Saints' Church and so Richard had the opportunity of admiring the new steeple in close proximity. The square near the church was a busy place, making it difficult to maneuver the wagon. As they passed through the square near the church, a man on a fine horse rode toward them quickly. It was obvious from the horse and the man's attire that he was a man of substance and stature. Those in the square tried to rapidly make way for the man to pass.

'Oot of me way,' the man would say to those who didn't move quickly enough.

Richard quickly moved the wagon to one side and let the man pass. The man rode up to the church and dismounted. Richard thought that he looked vaguely familiar. As Richard and Margaret continued on their way, Richard finally realized why the man looked familiar.

'That was John Darby, me luv,' said Richard.

'Who was John Darby?' asked Margaret.

'The man on the 'orse,' replied Richard.

'I do nay know a John Darby, me luv,' said Margaret.

''e was a friend of mine when I was a child. I do nay believe that 'e wuld remember me.'

'When did you see 'im last?'

'It 'as been nigh on 18 years. I almost did nay recognize 'im.'

'Well, 'e wuld nay recognize you with your beard, me luv,' said Margaret with a smile. ''ow culd you know sumeone with so much wealth and sumeone so important then?'

'We were children. Wealth and status did nay mean anything to us then,' replied Richard.

'Aye, well it do now,' said Margaret.

It wasn't long after that they reached Easton-on-the-hill and had a happy reunion with Geva and Ralf. Ralf was outside the cottage finishing up some of the daily chores before he went inside for the evening.

'Ralf,' called Margaret as the wagon pulled up near the cottage.

Ralf looked up, but it took a moment before he recognized who his visitors were.

'Margaret, Richard, welcome.' exclaimed Ralf. 'Geva,' he called out. Three children came out of the cottage almost at once and stared at Richard and Margaret. 'Margaret, you luk luvly,' said Ralf, 'boot I wuld nay 'ave recognized Richard if you were nay with 'im, me luv,' he said with a smile as he gave Margaret and Richard hugs. 'Comb inseed.'

Richard's first thought was that Geva looked sickly when he saw her, but Margaret recognized the tired look of a woman with child. When they walked in, Geva screamed with delight and then held her stomach as though in pain and she sat down. Still, she hugged Margaret tightly and it seemed that she would not release her. When she did, she motioned for Richard to come close and to hug her.

'Oh Margaret, Richard, it 'as been so long. It 'as been too long. We 'ave missed you so much,' said Geva as she tried to keep back her tears.

'Who's children are all these, then?' asked Margaret as she looked at the three children that were hiding behind Geva.

Geva reached behind herself and tried to coax the children forward. 'These are our three children,' said Ralf proudly, 'and Geva is with child again.'

'Oh, 'ow wonderful,' said Margaret and she hugged Geva again.

Ralf asked whether they had come back to Easton-on-the-hill to stay. 'Nay,' replied Richard, 'we are on our way to Calais. I 'ear that there is work there.'

'Calais!' exclaimed Geva. She and Ralf had never known anyone that had traveled so far as to France. 'Is it safe there?'

'Aye, it is safe. The King still 'olds that part of France and because of the war, there is work there to repair the church, so I 'ave 'eard,' Richard assured them.

'Is it safe to take a woman?' asked Ralf.

'Aye, it is safe enuf,' replied Richard.

Geva studied Margaret's face to see whether she thought that Margaret agreed. 'I wuld nay go,' said Geva.

'It will be fine,' promised Margaret.

The rest of the evening was spent catching up after years of separation. Late in the evening, Geva and Ralf looked at each other as though they had each thought of something to say, but wanted permission of the other. Finally, Ralf spoke.

'The fourth child 'as been 'ard for Geva.'

'Aye,' agreed Richard. 'Four children will nay be easy.'

'It must be 'ard watching after three children,' observed Margaret.

'Aye, boot it is nay watching after the children that I mean,' replied Ralf. 'Geva 'as nay been well. She must stay in bed much of the dee and 'as nay been well at'all and it 'as been getting worse. She may lose the baby yet.'

Margaret looked at Geva and saw the concern and tiredness on her face and in her eyes. ''ow 'ave you been managing with the children?' she asked.

'It 'as nay been gud. The children 'ardly 'ave a mum anymore. They 'ave to luk after themselves. Whot can I do?'

Ralf stood behind Geva and held her hand. He looked at Richard and Margaret and said, 'Richard, wuld you consider leaving Margaret 'ere to 'elp Geva while you luk for work in Calais? It wuld make soch a difference and per'aps Geva wuld nay lose the baby.'

It was Richard's desire to leave Margaret with them regardless, so he had no objection, but he wasn't sure that Margaret would agree.

'Richard,' said Margaret, 'I shuld stay 'ere and 'elp Geva. It will only be a short while and the baby will be 'ere. You find work and then comb back for me.'

'Aye,' agreed Richard, 'Margaret may stay. It will be safer for 'er 'ere also.'

Ralf looked at Geva and they exchanged smiles. Margaret noticed that Geva's face seemed to relax and her countenance improved.

'I am ever so grateful,' replied Geva, 'you are a God send to me.'

'Aye, a God send indeed,' said Ralf. 'We did nay know whot we wuld do anymore.' Then to Richard he said, 'I will take gud care of 'er. You 'ave been an answer to our prayers.'

The next morning Richard had gathered a few tools, some food and a change of clothing and had placed them in a large pouch with a handle that he could carry over one shoulder. He also took his short blade. When he was young, he had rarely taken a knife of any sort with him when he traveled. But, he felt that times were changing and that there were more dangers about then there had previously been. The winds of internal strife were blowing in England again and sometimes it was difficult to know who was friend and who was not.

He also took his cloak. The weather was still mild, but Richard didn't know how long he might be gone and a good wool cloak was expensive.

He had removed his beard with the blade of his knife that morning also and when Margaret saw it she smiled approvingly and rubbed her hands across his smooth face.

'Richard, you take care and return to me,' said Margaret.

'I will, me luv,' replied Richard.

''ow long will you be gone?'

'I can nay say, me luv' said Richard as he hugged Margaret close. 'It is possibly a fortnight to Dover and then per'aps two dees by boat to Calais. If I find work, I may 'ave to work a munth before they will let me leave to comb and fetch you, per'aps two munths. Then it wuld be at least a fortnight back to Easton-on-the-hill. So, I may be gone at least two munths.'

'I do nay like you leaving, me luv,' said Margaret.

'Do nay cry, me luv,' replied Richard. 'I will comb back for you. Do nay ever forget that. I will comb back.'

Margaret wiped her eyes and looked into Richard's eyes. 'I know that if you are able, you will comb back.'

'Nay, Margaret,' said Richard with emphasis, 'I will comb back. Do nay forget.'

'I will nay forget,' promised Margaret and she kissed him goodbye and added 'God speed, me luv.'

Ralf and Geva stood at the door of the cottage now. Ralf was helping to hold Geva so that her strength would be preserved.

'Richard,' beckoned Geva with an outstretched arm. Richard walked to her side and kissed her cheek. 'God speed, Richard. We will pray for you everydee.'

'God speed, Richard,' repeated Ralf.

Richard hugged and kissed Margaret again and wiped the tears off her face. 'Gudbye, me luv,' he said and he turned to go to the lane. Margaret held on to his hand as if to not let him go, but their fingers lost their grip as Richard stepped away from her.

Richard looked back and waved as he walked the road, then the road turned and he lost sight of the them. The last image that he had was of Ralf and Geva in the doorway, now surrounded by three quiet children and of Margaret standing nearby outside the cottage. He thought about the sight time and again as though he was trying to commit it to memory. In all his travels and in his life experience, Richard had found one thing that was certain and that was that when traveling, there was never any certainty of a reunion. With the assurance that his life was in God's hands, Richard turned his face toward Dover and walked on.