The Remembered

Chapter One

1434

Stamford, England



The weather was unusually cold today for mid-April. Thick clouds had persisted for several days and a light rain had fallen off and on. The sun had not actually been visible for weeks and clouds such as these could make a person feel trapped beneath a huge blanket of goose down. The rain at times was more of a mist than an actual rain. Several minutes in it without covering rendered a person thoroughly drenched.

The wind came from the northeast across the flat fens. With nothing to stand in its way, the wind seemed to cut clear to the bone, passing through coats and trousers as though they weren’t there. The weather was certainly cold enough for snow and it did seem at times that a late snow might fall.

Most of the streets in the centre of the towne of Stamford were paved with stone, streets away from the centre and roads outside the towne wall were dirt. This persistent wet weather caused the dirt roads to turn to sludge that clung to everything. Boots and trousers were always covered in it, oxen and wagons often got trapped by its sticky fingers.

Stamford sits in the very most southern border of the county Lincolnshire. With possibly as many as 4000 inhabitants (no one seemed quite certain how many people lived there since an official count hadn't been taken since the Domesday book), Stamford was one of the most influential townes in the Midlands. People had been settled in this place since the Romans had ruled this land. And now Stamford was enjoying prominence as a market place. Stamford was also a great place of much religious activity. Although the towne was without a cathedral, the centre of towne boasted great churches such as St. Mary’s, All Saints’, St. George’s, St. John’s, and St. Michael’s. A number of friary’s, nunnery’s and churches, such as St. Martin’s stood without the walls of the towne.

The most prominent structure within the towne walls were the remains of the ancient Norman Castle. No longer occupied, nor needed because of the relative safety that the towne enjoyed, it stood empty, except for the occasional visit by young boys who fancied themselves as heroic knights. Running down into the now-empty moat, over which the draw bridge once stood, they would enter through the main gate of the castle and storm its inner courtyard. There they would do fierce, hand-to-hand battle with an unseen enemy. The young boys fought hard and always drove the imaginary occupants of the castle through the remains of the great hall and up the stairs of the outer castle walls. There the enemy often fell over the side of castle walls to an imaginary death and the besiegers became the occupiers.

The walls of the castle were now crumbling in places. The walls that for centuries had stood immovable against formidable foes were now yielding to more patient adversaries, the combination of time and weather.

In addition to a bustling trade with neighboring townes, Stamford benefited from a healthy trade within its walls. Its streets were constantly busy with the noise of vendors selling their wares from make shift stalls that were erected in the four separate squares. Farmers from without the walls sold vegetables, corn, wheat, and eggs. Tradesman sold cloth, candles, cooking wares, and glass wares. Bakers sold breads, and cakes.

For all of this activity though, Stamford was most widely known for its wool trade. Great numbers of sheep occupied the surrounding countryside and Stamford’s wool and cloth was shipped all over the known world. The centre of the wool trade was Calais, France, under the English Crown since taken from the French in the Hundred Years’ War. Several merchants of the ‘Staple of Calais’ resided in Stamford.

Toward the middle of the towne on Scotgate street stood the glazier’s shoppe. Inside a number of journeyman and apprentices worked under the direction of the Master Glazier Craftsman. Inside, Richard wore gloves that left his fingers exposed to increase his ability to work with glass, but the cold weather did make it rather miserable.

At 14, Richard was rather tall, he stood a head taller than most other boys his age. Because of his size he was often treated as more of a man than a boy. And he enjoyed the increased attention and freedom that such recognition afforded him.

Richard had begun his apprenticeship just over a year earlier. It was a great opportunity for him to learn a trade, even though for the first year his pay was next to nothing. Soon enough he would be out on his own and a trade would help to ensure that he and a future family would not starve.

Richard was from a village just two miles southwest of Stamford called Easton-on-the-hill. The village was on the road to London, but neither Richard nor anyone in his family had been to such a far away place. Richard's family had lived in Easton-on-the-hill for as long as anyone could remember. His father was born there and his father before him. All had been farmers. Richard's grandfather had been known as Ian of Easton-on-the-hill. Often that was too cumbersome. So, long before Richard was born, his grandfather had shortened the name to Easton.

Richard's apprenticeship would last for perhaps 4 years. For now at least, Richard was fortunate that he was so close to home so that he could save the expense of lodging and also help his father with the small farm when needed. Stamford didn't always maintain a glazier's shoppe. The glazier was only here because of a new priory that was being built nearby. It was quite possible though that the glazier may stay after the priory was finished. The wool trade had created new wealth in Stamford and those who had obtained wealth were often anxious to secure a place in heaven by beautifying a local church. What better way to gain confidence in the eternities than to commission a great window for the local priest.

The glazier shoppe that Richard was apprenticed to did not make the glass themselves, but received it packed in straw from places such as France. The glass was a very expensive commodity and for several weeks Richard was not even allowed to touch it. Instead he learned by watching and acted as more of a servant for the journeyman and craftsman. Finally, he had been allowed to start cutting the glass. To cut it in the proper shape he traced the glass with a very hot, pointed iron and then broke the glass along the heated mark.

Today he was busy cutting coloured glass that would be placed in the chapel of the priory. The piece of glass that he was currently working on would form the top of an angel’s wing in the centre window of three that depicted angelic visitors to the baby Jesus. Because of its many curves, the piece required careful precision and attention to detail.

Richard placed the artist’s pattern beneath the light-blue glass and heated the iron to a hot, red tip. He began to move the tip along the glass with precision equal someone more experienced than he. Nearing the end of the cut he was distracted by a movement across from the glazier’s shoppe. The movement was a flowing movement that would not otherwise be a distraction, except that he had hoped that she might be passing at about this time as she had been recently. Richard looked up just moments before he completed the cut. It was her. The most beautiful thing that he had ever laid his eyes upon. The moment of distraction, though, was going to cost Richard dearly. Richard’s movement caused him to slip and knock the glass onto the floor.

The shattering of the glass onto the floor riveted Richard’s attention back to the business at hand. He had done the unthinkable. He had broken a piece of light blue glass. Any other colour would have disappointing, but blue, why did it have to be blue! Blue was presently in short supply. True, some of the broken pieces could be used elsewhere and there may be little waste, but just the fact that he had been careless enough to cause the breakage would not speak well of his abilities as an apprentice.

The Master Glazier Craftsman had also heard the noise of the glass breaking and came at a quick pace. He was not a big man, he barely came to Richard's shoulder. He was not a patient man either. He demanded that his apprentices learn quickly and work with exactness. It was common for him to hit those who did not meet his expectations. He believed that a lesson taught across the jaw would be remembered longer than a simple verbal lesson. Richard braced himself for the lesson that would surely be delivered.

“Whot 'ave you dune? Fool, 'ow culd you be so clomsy?” asked the Master Glazier.

“I am soory sir,” offered Richard. “I promise that it will nay.....”

Then Richard felt the pain of the back of the Master Glazier’s hand on his jaw. The impact sent Richard to the floor and caused him to hit his head on the work table.

“Your excuses will nay fix the broken glass. Imbecile! 'ow can you ever learn if you don’t pay attention to the work? Why do I bother keeping you 'ere anyway? I shuld turn you oot into the street. That is where you will be soon enuf anyway. Who 'as ever 'eard of a glazier that breaks glass?”

“I will try 'arder, sir,” offered Richard. “It will nay 'appen again.”

“It 'ad bet'er nay, or you can go back to that farm,” yelled the Master Glazier.

Richard got up now and dusted himself off. He was embarrassed and a little angry with the Master Glazier. He knew however that the Master Glazier had held back some on his beating. Richard had seen him hit other apprentices two or three times for mistakes of less significance. It wasn’t at all uncommon for the Master Glazier and the journeymen glaziers to hit an apprentice. It was just a part of the lot that an apprentice must accept. It had been hard for Richard at first, because his father had not been a violent man and Richard was not accustomed to being hit.

The Master Glazier had walked away now muttering about the difficulty of getting good apprentices nowadays. Richard looked across the street. Had he really seen her? A glimpse of her was worth two beatings. Richard hoped that she had not seen him receive a beating. That would have been more embarrassing still.

Richard tried to get his mind back on cutting glass. The day was just about over anyway. It would soon be too dark to work without the aid of a candle. Many candles would be required to provide sufficient light for the glaziers to work, but the job they were working on was not under such a time schedule as to require working at night. So Richard expected that he would soon be dismissed for the day.

Soon it was dark and the Master Glazier called for everyone to quit work. Several of the journeymen and the two other apprentices lived right there at the shoppe. If Easton-on-the-hill were not so close, Richard would live there also. Richard quickly cleaned his work area and put away his tools and dashed out the door.

To get home, Richard would turn east from the Glaziers' shoppe on Scotgate and pass by the All Saints' church and St. John's, then down Saint Mary's street toward the gate with the bridge. He could have left through Scotgate near the Glazier's shoppe, but there was no bridge over the River Welland there and Richard didn't plan to wade across in this cold weather.

The streets were mostly quiet, all the shoppes were closed and the people of the towne were home with their families preparing their evening meal. A few people were in the 'Bull and Swan' public house. Richard could hear their laughter and singing as he passed by. Some must be travelers who stopped in for the night, others would be townes' people who had stopped before going home. The crowd at the public house would undoubtedly grow as early evening transformed itself into night. And the crowd would surely get louder as gallons of ale were consumed.

Richard passed the Sheep Market and St. Mary's. During parts of the year the Sheep Market was a place of great activity. People bought and sold sheep and wool in immense quantities at the market. It was still too early in the year for much trading in wool and lambs had not yet been born this year, so the market was instead used as a farmer's market. Tonight all was quiet.

Richard couldn't get his mind off the girl who had passed near the Glazier's shoppe. He wanted desperately to meet her, but she was so beautiful that he didn't dare try. Just the thought of speaking with her made him get all fidgety and forget all else. That was why he had made such a fool of himself today he thought. Normally, he could cut glass with skill beyond his few months of training, but when he thought of her being nearby he got all clumsy.

Tomorrow was Saturday and Richard was hoping that the Master Glazier would call a half day. The half day was to allow for some recreation prior to the commencement of the Lord's Day of rest. Richard hoped that he would get a better look at the girl sometime on Saturday.

Richard now passed the ruins of the castle. Sometimes he thought that he had been born at least a hundred years too late. If only he had been born during the time when the castle was in use, he would have been a great knight, instead of a glazier's apprentice. A knight could impress maidens with acts of valor. The best that a glazier could hope for was to impress a priest with his fine work. Of course, impressing a priest was a valuable thing to do, reasoned Richard. An impressed priest may offer many prayers to heaven on your behalf. Each day when the priest looked upon the delicate craftsmanship that made the window he would be reminded of the craftsman who had created it and may feel obliged to pray for his soul. Maybe being a glazier was not such a bad thing after all.

Richard passed through the unmanned gate and crossed the bridge over the River Welland. He then left the road and walked through the towne meadow. Leaving the road would mean that his walk home would be a little shorter. The grass of the meadow came to Richard’s mid-calf. It was wet from the moisture that had fallen all day. A small footpath led through the meadow to Easton-on-the-hill, it would take Richard about 20 minutes to reach his home where he hoped that his mother would have an evening meal prepared.

A quarter moon was showing just over the trees to Richard’s left. It was barely visible behind the thin layer of clouds that persisted. Richard was not a stranger to the dark, but he did prefer greater illumination from the moon and the stars than he had tonight. Despite the fact that he was accustomed to the dark, he did not relish passing through the stand of trees that stood between the edge of the meadow and the top of the hill where Easton-on-the-hill stood. Vagabonds were not uncommon in the woods. Most decent people would stay on the roadway between Stamford and Easton-on-the-hill. Some decent people might stay in the woods for lack of money for an inn. Some, however, were either criminals or others hiding from a past. Richard tried not to dwell on such thoughts. By exercising an element of caution he could avoid most dangers.

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.