The Remembered

Chapter Nineteen

1456



'Brother James,' Brother Mark called across the open field. 'Brother James.'

James looked up from the wood that he was chopping and saw Brother Mark hurrying out to where he was. He acknowledged Brother Mark's beckoning, 'I am listening, Brother Mark. Whot is it?'

Brother Mark had always been kind to James and had been somewhat of a mentor to him. He was older than James and shared his wisdom freely. He was also portly and it was unlike him to be in a hurry, so James was surprised at the haste that he was exhibiting.

As Brother Mark struggled to catch his breath, James noticed that he had a paper in his hand. The paper was folded and had been sealed with wax, but the wax was broken, indicating that the paper had been read. There were no secrets among the brothers of the priory, so even if the message were for James, he knew that it would have already been read.

'Brother James,' started Brother Mark when he had caught his breath enough to speak, 'this message came for you todee from Not'ing'am.' Brother Mark handed the paper to James and stood by silently.

James rarely had received any communications from his mother and father. Communication with the outside world was difficult at best and also discouraged. After all, the monks had given their lives over to The Lord and to the Church. The only way to receive a message was if there were reason for a brother to travel to Nottingham or if a brother from Nottingham traveled to Stamford. Each were very infrequent. James had received a message from his mother and father perhaps once each year.

James accepted the message from Brother Mark and read:

'James, your father is gravely ill. Please pray for him. The men of the duke of York passed through Lambley and he received injury at their hand. I fear that he will not live. My heart is very heavy, but my faith in God and his purposes are strong. I am well my son. God speed to you. Your loving mother.'

Brother Mark had been standing by and said, 'You must go to 'er, me sone. She will need you at 'er seed.'

''ow can I leave when there is so much work to do 'ere?' asked James.

'We will be fine. Speak with Prior Forman and receive your leave for a time, boot mind you me sone, the roads are dangerous, even for a monk.'

''ow comb the Duke's forces were in Lambley,' James asked. 'I 'ad 'eard that they were in the north of England.'

'Armies travel faster than rumors, me sone,' replied Brother Mark.

James spoke with Prior Forman and received permission to leave for Lambley as soon as possible. The prior also gave him the use of the priory's donkey for the trip, but asked that he be back in a three weeks.

James left early that afternoon. Riding the donkey was not going to be much quicker than walking, but it was going to be easier and it would allow him to take extra provisions to share with the poor along the way. Because he was a monk, James would generally have the accommodations of local priests or public houses without cost and would not be required to sleep in the open. That would add a measure of safety and comfort to the trip.

He decided to take the shortest route possible, but would need to deliver documents and messages to Nottingham on the way to Lambley. He spent the first night in Melton Mowbray at the house of the priest.

As he passed through the villages and hamlets, he was surprised at how poor the people seemed. Already, he thought, the internal strife for the crown was having an effect on the people. They were poor already and they were the first to suffer when the royals contended. Because he represented the Church, he was approached many times and soon had given away all of the extra food that he had brought with him. He would have gladly given the donkey as well, but it was not his to give.

It was especially heart-wrenching for him to see the little ones approach him, wearing no covering on their feet and with ragged clothing, look at him with big sorrowful eyes.

The road from Melton Mowbray to Nottingham ran through few villages and a portion would be through the Sherwood Forest. This concerned James because the forest was reputed to be the home of thieves. James wondered whether the ranks of the thieves would have grown due to the economic hardship of the people and whether the thieves would be more brazen. Because he was just a humble priest, he trusted that the thieves would not harm him.

James entered the woods soon after noon and continued on without seeing anyone. A couple of hours later, he heard something coming toward him. It sounded like rumbling and also metal clanking. He stopped to listen and decided that it must be a large number of men and animals. He decided that it would be wise to not be seen even if he was a monk, so he coaxed his animal off the road and into the trees. There he dismounted and waited. Before long he saw the occasional flutter of a flag through the trees and then he started seeing men walking and wagons. As the column of men drew closer, he could see that the flags had an unmistakable white rose. These were obviously the Duke of York's men. James fought back feelings of anger toward them for the injury that they had inflicted on his father. At the end of the company, James saw a large machine on wheels and it took him some time to determine what it was, having never seen such a device. It was a catapult. 'Pity the towne that it is used on,' thought James.

After a time, the solders were gone and James continued on his way, reaching Lambley the next day. He tied the donkey in the yard behind the bakery and entered through the rear. He noticed that the oven was cold and there was no bread or other items on the shelves. There was flour and wheat in the bins though.

'Mum, it is I, James,' he called up the stairway.

'James!' Elizabeth called from the room above and then appeared at the top of the stairs. 'James, you came!' she said.

James hurried up the stairs and took his mother into his arms and she cried.

'I came as soon as I received your message, mum,' James said.

'Oh James, I knew that you wuld comb.'

''ow is father?' James asked.

''e is nay gud, sone. Comb and see.'

James followed his mother into the room and saw Thomas laying on the bed. His eyes were closed and his breathing was labored, but shallow. His skin was ashen.

'Whot 'appened to 'im, mum?' James asked.

Elizabeth related to James that the Duke of York's men had come through Lambley and they had been a frightful sight. The village knew that they were coming for a day or so before they arrived and the villagers that could had left. Those that couldn't leave, or those that thought to earn money from their presence, stayed. Elizabeth and Thomas would like to have left, but Thomas was afraid to leave the store unattended. He had insisted that she leave, but she had refused to leave him alone.

When the army came, Thomas had been at the church and Elizabeth in the bakery. Several soldiers had come into the bakery and had demanded bread. She had given it to them and they had refused to pay. She would have gladly accepted their departure without payment, but one of the soldiers had taken hold of her and wouldn't let her go as he tried to kiss her. Thomas had entered the back of the bakery at that moment and had rushed the soldier with the large knife that he had taken to carrying. The knife was no match for a sword and Thomas was no match for a soldier. The soldier could have easily killed Thomas, but seemed to have some sort of compassion and only wounded him in with a blow to the arm. Thomas had fallen to the ground bleeding. The soldier only left the bakery then because his companions grabbed him and removed him.

Elizabeth had been able to stop the blood and the priest, who had followed shortly after Thomas, helped to get him upstairs and into the bed.

'It were the priest who suggested writ'ing the message to you, and 'e offered to take it to Not'ing'am and 'ave it delivered to Stamford with other messages,' Elizabeth said. 'And since then, your father 'as lain 'ere and got'en worse each dee.'

James looked at his mother and saw that it appeared she hadn't been eating or resting much. 'Mum, let me stay 'ere with father tonight while you rest,' he offered. Elizabeth agreed, but went to fetch some more water before nightfall.

The next morning, Elizabeth looked much more rested, but hungry. 'I am going to start the oven, mum and do sume baking,' James told his mother and he set about to bring order and operation to the bakery. He was surprised, that after so much time away from the bakery, how he enjoyed the experience. Maybe he should have been a baker, he thought. The smells of the wood burning in the oven, and the bread cooking brought back pleasant memories of working side-by-side with his father, Thomas.

With the oven operating and bread being baked, people of the village started returning to the shoppe. It was wonderful to see the people again that he had known all of his life. He of course continued to wear his monk habit and many were pleased that he was in the priesthood.

James was disturbed by the poverty that he saw amongst the villagers. Many of them could not pay for the bread that they received, but they received it anyway with a promise to pay someday.

The days passed quickly, but Thomas did not improve, in fact, he continued to decline. On the fifth day, Elizabeth called James upstairs. 'Your father will dee before nightfall. Give 'im a final blessing, sone,' she asked.

James had never had occasion to offer the prayers, but knew how. So, he lovingly offered prayer for the soul of his father. For the first time in years, Elizabeth thought about the circumstances that had brought her and Thomas together as husband and wife. She loved this man who had treated her so well. He was kind and gentle. He was faithful to her, to his church and to his Lord. She felt a pang of guilt hearing her son offer a priestly prayer for the man that he knew as his father, yet only she knew the truth. She wanted to tell James, but felt that nothing good could come of it. Thomas was his father as much as any man could have been.

A short time later that evening, Thomas died and Elizabeth cried over his lifeless body and kissed him. James cried as well and regretted missing so much of his father's life during the last several years. Suddenly, what seemed at one time to be a selfless vocation of priestly service, now seemed to be a thief that robbed him of the companionship of his father. James felt badly now for becoming a priest and not staying in the bakery. But it was what he wanted at the time; his father had supported it and he loved him for it.

Thomas was buried the next day in a grave in the church yard where his family had been buried for generations. When James and Elizabeth returned to the bakery, James said, 'Mum, I am going to stay and 'elp you run the bakery.'

'You will nay do it,' retorted Elizabeth. 'Your place is in the priory.'

'Nay, mum,' resisted James, 'me place now is 'ere with you. Who will luk after you and 'elp you run the bakery?'

'Your place is in the priory. You made a covenant with The Lord and you will keep that covenant. I will nay stand in the way. God forbid.'

'Mum, 'ow will you run the bakery withoot father?' asked James.

'I am nay an old woman yet, sone. I can still work 'ard and I can 'ire 'elp. Your father left me a rich woman. I own a bakery. 'ow many women can say that? Precious few, me luv. I will be fine and you must return to the priory just as the prior as asked.'

'Aye, mum,' James replied. 'Boot remember that I luv you and send word to me if you need me 'elp.'

'I will, me luv,' promised Elizabeth.

James left the next day for the priory with the promise to visit again in the coming year, God willing. As he took leave of his mother, he almost felt as though Thomas was there watching over her. He even caught himself looking around as though he would see his father. As the donkey bore him away, he felt that his mother was in good hands, but when or if he would see her again wasn't clear.