The Remembered

Chapter Twenty-four

1459

Stamford, England



'Lord Darby, this is a wonderful alms'ouse,' said James. 'God is pleased with your generosity.'

The first wing of the almshouse was nearing completion and John and James had been inspecting the craftsmanship. It was very good. When completed, the almshouse would have four wings, one each on the north, south, east and west, surrounding a courtyard. Each wing would have 4 separate rooms for lodging indigent elderly who had no family to care for them. With the south wing nearly completed, John was ready to consider who might benefit. There would be no shortage of candidates, but John had one person particularly in mind.

Standing now on the steps leading up to the south wing and looking at the short octagon spire, John said, 'Soon, Father, I will send for the old woman who was so generous to me in me time of need. If she is willing, I will bring 'er 'ere and see that she is cared for the remainder of 'er dees.'

'You are a gud man, John Darby,' replied James.

'God 'as been very gud to me. I only wuld 'ave liked to 'ave 'ad a sone.'

John and James turned and walked down the remainder of the steps and turned toward the All Saints' Church.

'Aye, boot you and Agnes are caring so well for Richard's sone and 'e is grateful to you.'

'Aye, boot the dee will comb that 'e will nay be so generous to share 'im with us. It will be a sad dee indeed for Agnes,' said John.

'God will yet bless you with a sone, John,' replied James.

John stopped and turned directly toward James. He felt moisture building in his eyes because he knew how much Agnes would love children. She had become very attached to the lad and the lad was very attached to her. Any separation at this point would be like an arrow in her heart and he didn't know if he could bear to see her sorrow. Now the words of this priest seemed to him as more than idle talk, the words were to him a promise from God himself.

'Bless you, Father,' replied John. 'That means so much to me.'

John and James proceeded to All Saints' and found Richard there on a ladder cleaning one of the recently placed windows. Work on the church had been completed in the last week and James was looking forward to holding a worship service there in the coming days.

'It is luvly, Richard,' said James. 'You 'ave dune beaut'iful work and it will bear witness to God for generations.'

'Aye,' agreed John.

'I am grateful for the work and that I culd take part in the re-building of this church,' replied Richard. 'This church is special in me life.'

'In mine as well,' agreed John. 'I 'ave comb 'ere all of me life and 'ave seen it nairly every dee, except when I was away at school.'

'Now that the work is dune, whot will you do, Richard?' asked James. 'Will you luk for work in another towne?'

'I do nay know. I 'ave a sone now that needs me and a life of travel is nay gud for a lad.'

James and John exchanged glances. John felt a sense of relief that Richard didn't have immediate plans to leave the area and take his son with him.

'Richard, there is plent'y of work 'ere in the wool trade,' offered John. 'I wuld be pleased if you wuld stay right 'ere in Stamford and 'elp me.'

Richard was climbing down off the ladder and stopped midway. Looking over his shoulder, he thought for a moment and then replied, 'I might like that, me Lord. You 'ave been gud to me and I am grateful.' He then continued his descent.

From the floor of the church, Richard looked up at all the windows and was pleased with what he saw. 'Will you 'old a service 'ere this Soondee then, Father?' he asked.

'Aye, I will. The Prior will be 'ere as will the priests from Easton-on-the-'ill and Barnack.'

'As will 'alf of Stamford,' offered John.

With that, the three exited the church and as they did, Richard left the company of the other two and walked over to Margaret's grave. He had managed to save a little money for a headstone during the last year and now the headstone was in place. The headstone that he had requested from the stone cutter was small and unassuming, but when he had gone to get it, he had found that a much more magnificent stone had been created. The stone cutter would not say who had made up the difference in cost, but Richard was sure that it was Lord and Lady Darby. He thought that Margaret would be pleased.

As he stood at the graveside, he was surprised when a thought of Elizabeth entered his mind and he wondered what had become of her. He thought about the many miles he had walked in search of her, but once he had determined that she could not be found, he had devoted all his energy and love to Margaret. In the early days of his marriage to Margaret, thoughts of Elizabeth had occasionally come to his mind, but he had always pushed them aside and now he did the same.

'Margaret, me luv,' Richard said out loud, 'the church is complete. Is it nay beaut'iful?' Surveying the steeple, the stonework, the gargoyles and the glass, Richard continued, 'I can nay say where the old stones meet the newly laid stones they fit so well together. And the glass will tell the story of The Lord for a thousand years, God willing.'

Richard bent over and pulled some grass away from the headstone and continued, 'I do nay know whot I will do now that the work is complete. Lord Darby 'as offered me work. I do nay know anything about the wool trade, boot I am tired of traveling from towne to towne. We 'ave a sone now also that needs a 'ome. I need a 'ome. Maybe I will go 'ome to Easton-on-the-'ill and work for Lord Darby. Lady Darby luvs the lad and 'e shuld be near 'er.'

Richard stood in silence for a time and felt as though Margaret approved.

That Sunday, the All Saints' Church was filled to capacity, with some people sitting in the isles. Lord and Lady Darby were prominently seated in a special pew constructed for them. In another ornate pew at the front were the prior of Saint Leonard's and the priests of Easton-on-the-hill and Barnack. When it came time for the sermon, James nervously rose and approached the pulpit.

'Praise be to God for this beaut'iful church and for Lord and Lady Darby who made its rebuilding possible. And we gratefully acknowledge the Prior and distinguished guests.

'I 'ave nay been a priest long and I am grateful to God for the trust that He 'as placed with me.

'As I 'ave prayed and studied to know whot God wuld 'ave me share with you this dee, it is clear to me that I must speak concerning the authority of the Church. The Church 'as grown wealthy, as was aptly described by a man called John Wycliff.'

The prior shifted nervously on the bench and glanced briefly at the two priests beside him.

James continued, 'much of this wealth 'as comb at the expense of the poor and the ignorant as the Church 'as accused them of transgression, sume falsely, and also 'as sold to them so called indulgences for absolution of their sin. I 'ave searched the scripture and there is no reference to soch practice or authority.' Then raising his voice and looking directly at the prior and the priests, he continued, 'The practice encourages sin on the part of the wealthy and breaks the back of the poor and unlearned.'

There was an audible gasp from the congregation and the Prior stood in protest, but James continued.

'This practice will surely bring upon the Church the judgments of an offended God.'

The prior and the priests had heard enough and the two priests stood with the prior and walked out briskly, but as they left many in the congregation expressed muffled agreements with Father James. After the three were out of the church, James continued his sermon by assuring the congregation of God's love for them and that no man could stand between them and the healing power of The Lord.

It seemed to Richard that the congregation would burst into applause when James finished. After the sermon, Richard remained sitting in his seat for a few minutes wondering about this new, young priest and the doctrine that he taught. 'He is a brave yung man,' he thought to himself, 'the prior will nay approve.'

Lord Darby approached the young priest after the service. 'Father James, you 'ave preached doctrine that will nay be approved by the prior and the bishop.'

'Aye, indeed that is true, Lord Darby. Boot, I must be true to the scriptures and to the message that I 'ave received from God.'

'At the peril of your life?' asked John.

'Aye, at the peril of me life.'

'And whot aboot your soul?'

'I will trust me soul to God who gave it. A church who 'as strayed as far as selling indulgences is a church withoot power or authority to save me soul regardless,' replied James.

Surprised at James' boldness, John asked 'You will challenge the authority of the Church?'

'Nay, Lord Darby, I do nay challenge the authority of the Church,' then laying his hand on the Bible next to the pulpit, he continued,'boot God's word does.'

'God's word challenges the authority of God's church?' asked John with greater surprise.

'God's word does nay challenge the authority of God's church,' replied James. 'Boot, God's church does nay exist on the earth any longer. It 'as been taken away for safe keeping. If you 'ad access to the Bible, you too wuld read soch in the words of Paul the Apostle and John the Revelator. Paul also speaks of God's church returning before The Lord combs again in the flesh.'

'And when will soch things be?' asked John.

'I do nay know. I 'ave prayed much to know, boot God does nay make soch things known to me. I suppose that it will nay be soon,' said James.

'Father James, I am shocked to hear you speak so,' replied John. 'I 'ave never 'eard of soch things.'

'You nay wuld. The Church has nay allowed the people to read or 'ave access to the Bible, God's Holy word, until recently. It 'as nay been 80 years that Wycliff translated the first Bible into English and we know 'ow the Church felt aboot 'im. And even now, few people 'ave direct access to the Bible.'

'And fewer still can read,' added John.

'Aye, and that is 'ow the Church prefers it, boot I 'ave 'eard of a new contraption in Germany that will print thousands of copies. Consider it, Lord Darby, thousands of copies. It is now only printed in the German language, boot the dee will comb that it will be printed in English as well. Can you dare imagine soch a thing? Thousands of copies of the Bible in English! No longer will the Church 'ave exclusive access to the interpretation of the word of God.'

'Father James, you 'ave given me much to consider. Will you teach again next Soondee? You know that the prior will tell the bishop soon and you will nay be safe.'

'Aye, God willing, I will preach on Soondee. Will you comb?'

'Nay, Father. I leave todee to fetch me first tenant of the alms'ouse.'

'You will miss the running of the bulls then,' said James.

'That I will indeed,' replied John in a more jovial tone. 'I 'ave provided the bulls and that is all I need do. I 'ave seen plent'y of bull runes meself and do nay care to see another one.'

'I understand. I will nay see it meself,' agreed James.

'It has also becomb too much of a carnival affair for me. There are too many strangers combing from all parts for me liking,' John observed.

'God speed to you then, Lord Darby.'

'Aye and God speed to you, Father James. I believe that you will need it more than I.'

James was glad that he had taken up residence at the house provided for the priest next to the All Saints' Church and that he did not have to go to Saint Leonard's Priory. Now that he was a priest and formally assigned to All Saints', he was no longer under the direct control of the prior. If he were, James knew that it would be very unpleasant at the priory.

As the week went on, visitors to Stamford increased significantly. Some were traveling entertainers, others had wares for sale. Still others were thieves who preferred to ply their trade among crowds of strangers.

Richard had never run with the bulls and after what had happened to Bromley, had no intention of doing so, but planned to watch the run. He was also curious about the booths and entertainers at the market. Early Saturday morning, he made his way to the plaza near the Saint Mary's church. He thought that would be an excellent place to view the bulls as they came over the bridge and entered the towne. A crowd was already gathering when he arrived, but he managed to work his way to the front. There was a chill in the air, more so than had been recently and it seemed to Richard that it might yet snow, so he pulled his cloak more tightly about himself.

Soon he could see the runners lining the sides of the bridge with sticks in hand. They were all young men, most of them James' age or younger, he thought. He also reasoned that it would not be wise for a man his age to participate in such sport.

The crowd was excited and many were calling out the names of participants that they knew. The excitement of the crowd increased in pitch at the moment the bulls were seen on the bridge. Great billows of breath streams poured from the bulls' nostrils and they pulled at the ropes that held them. Suddenly, the ropes were released and they were off, charging over the bridge, egged on all the more by the sticks of the participants. Then they were through the gates and onto the streets of the towne with the runners in pursuit. In an instant, it seemed, the thundering crowd of beast and man was nearing Richard. He felt his excitement turn briefly to fear and he stepped backward slightly, bumping into the person behind him. The tiny wooden railing that had been put in place as a barrier, no longer seemed as safe as it had moments before. And then they were gone, past Saint Mary's and around the corner to the west. Richard held his position, knowing that the bulls would pass back by him as they would be chased into the towne meadow where they would be slaughtered.

After the bulls and runners had passed, the crowed chatted uncharacteristically freely with each other while they waited for the return of the bulls.

'Do you see me sone?' asked one man of the man next to him. 'Me thought 'e wuld be trampled as they comb over the bridge.'

''e must nay 'ave not'iced the bull that slipped and got be'ind 'im.'

'Aye, 'e is a luky lad indeed.'

'The bulls are nay as large as when we used to rune.'

'Aye, and I 'ave the scar to prove it.'

Richard enjoyed listening and watching the people. He thought it odd that he knew so few. Then across the street from where he was standing, he thought that he caught a glimpse of someone that he should recognize, but did not. The person had reddish hair and beard and a light reddish complexion. Richard had an uneasy feeling about it and was about to fade back into the crowd when shouts could be heard around the corner in the direction that the bulls would be returning.

Soon the bulls were coming around the corner from the east side of Saint Mary's and the crowd near him erupted in cheers. Again, he stepped backward slightly when the bulls neared. It seemed that there were fewer runners now and he wondered whether some unfortunate runners had met with a fate similar to Bromley's.

After the bulls and runners passed, Richard surveyed the people across the street for the man with the reddish hair, but he didn't see him. His uneasiness continued, so he merged back into the crowd and made his way to the market. He strolled among the crowds at the marketplace for a couple of hours and watched the entertainers. He was amazed by the jugglers and enjoyed the music of the minstrels.

As he turned away from the minstrels, he heard a shout, 'That is 'im, sheriff. Seize 'im.' Richard looked to see the man with reddish hair pointing in his direction. Then the recognition set in, it was Simon, the man that he had met in the woods, the thief. Instantly, Richard was seized upon by two of the sheriff's men and roughly pulled away from the crowd. There was normally only one sheriff for Stamford and the entire surrounding area, but additional men had been called into force for the bull run.

'Who are you, whot is your name?' asked the sheriff.

'I am Richard Easton of Easton-on-the-'ill,' replied Richard as he struggled against the strength of the men.

''ave you ever been to Dover?'

'Aye, boot I did nay do wrong,' asserted Richard.

'Take 'im away,' demanded the sheriff.

'And me reward?' asked Simon.

'You will 'ave your reward if there is one to be 'ad. Now away with you,' the sheriff demanded.

'You will nay forget,' said Simon.

'Away, before I arrest you as well,' replied the sheriff, placing a hand on Simon's chest and pushing him for emphasis.

The two men led Richard back past the Saint Mary's church. The jail and court lay between Saint Mary's and the towne gate. The entrance to the jail was guarded by a heavy wooden door on large hinges. Outside the door hung various instruments that were used to extract truth. Two in particular caught Richard's eye. One was made of metal strips and hung from the ceiling. It had two legs like trousers and appeared to be capable of holding a man. The other was a bed with straps for the legs and hands and a wheel for tightening the straps.

Richard was led through the heavy door and down stone steps to another door. The men opened the door and shoved Richard inside. He fell to the ground in the darkness and heard the first door close followed by the steps of the men ascending the stairs and then the second door swung shut.

Richard picked himself up, but other than light coming in from a thin slit of a window, he could see nothing. Slowly his eyes became accustomed to the darkness of the room and he looked about. The room was completely made of stone; stone floor, stone walls and two stone beds. The ceiling was probably 10 feet high and made of heavy timbers. Richard was scared. His mind was racing with many thoughts. How did he end up in jail again for a crime that he did not commit? Surely John would make things right when he returned. But what if his return were delayed and he was brought before another alderman or judge. Would the guards use the torture apparatus for sport prior to John's return?

Richard stood on one of the stone beds and peered through the small window. He thought of the many times that he had passed by this very window, usually on the other side of the street to avoid any contact with possible prisoners. He had never considered that he might yet be one himself. Richard was relieved that he was the one person so confined today, but with the merriment of the fair, he was concerned that others may be locked up as well. Who would they be? Would they be vile or dangerous?

Across the street at the public house, Richard saw someone that he knew. Should he call out to them? No one knew he was locked inside.

'Oy,' yelled Richard several times, but over the bustle of the street he was not heard by the person, or they didn't wish to acknowledge a prisoner.

Richard sat on the bed and waited and wondered how long he would be locked up. As the hours dragged on he thought about his life. It had been a hard life, but he had tried to please the Lord in his work. He thought of Margaret and how he missed her. She would have been so pleased of their son, he thought. Then he thought of Elizabeth again. She had been a good wife, but they had been married for so little a time. 'Whot sort of wife wuld she 'ave been,' he wondered. 'Surely, she wuld 'ave been faithful and a 'ard worker.' He remembered how she had insisted on getting her father's approval for their marriage and not to do anything behind the backs of her parents. Truly, she was a faithful woman.

Richard thought back to his wedding to Elizabeth. He had gone to her cottage early in the morning and had surprised her with flowers that he had picked along the way.

'Gud dee, me luv,' said Richard. 'These flowers 'ide in shame at your luvliness.'

'Oh, Richard, the flowers are luvly. And todee we marry!' she had replied with a big smile and spun around. Richard loved the way she twilled when she was happy.

On the way to the All Saints' church that morning, Elizabeth had promised her undying love for him.

'I will always luv you, Richard Easton,' she had said. 'It does nay mat'er whot combs, I will never quit luving you.'

'And I you, me luv,' Richard had said in returned.

Truly, he had been married to two good women.

The hours passed and darkness settled on the jail cell. Still Richard was alone and that gave him some relief.