The Remembered

Chapter Three

1428 – 1432

Easton-on-the-hill



The future looked bright for Lind and Gleda. Lind worked hard in the fields and Gleda was able to raise chickens and hogs in the yard. On account of the death of its owner, the priest had been given an ox after the illness had moved through Easton-on-the-hill, The priest was so grateful to the Eastons for taking in Richard that he gave the ox to Lind. The ox was a great blessing to the family because now Lind was able to plow much more land, and because rents on land were depressed, Lind was able to secure more land to farm. Gleda felt that they were being blessed by God for taking Richard into their family. Lind accepted that maybe it was God's will after all.

Bromley was old enough to work in the fields with his father and did so every day. Being the oldest son, he was rightful heir to the farm and the cottage. Farming seemed to be in his blood.

Richard was too young to care about farming or much of anything else except exploring in the fields and woods. He loved to go with his father so that he could play. His sister, Geva, usually stayed at home with her mother.

Richard especially loved to play in the ruins of the old Roman walls that stood outside Stamford close to his father's fields. He loved to wield a stick as his sword and a larger stick for his horse. He defeated many enemies in that fashion.

His companion in these adventures was a boy near his age that he had met at the ruins. The boy's name was John Darby. John was the son of John Darby, a land owner and a merchant. The ruins were technically on John Darby's land. As a member of the Company of the Merchants, he enjoyed complete control of the exporting of wool in and around the area of Stamford. Sometimes he was referred to as a Merchant of the Staple of Calais. Calais, France was conquered by the English in the year 1347 and since that time it enjoyed the stature of being the principle location for wool imports onto the continent. John Darby, the father of John, was one of twenty-six traders and as such he enjoyed prestige and wealth. He was an Alderman of Stamford as well.

'The Sco'ish are combing,' shouted Richard to John. 'There, just over the 'ill. 'urry, let us get into the castle.'

The two boys scurried into the protection of the ruins and fought off the imaginary invaders with skill and precision. Richard had suffered a sever wound to his leg in the process, but that was miraculously healed when John announced that the queen was nearing the castle walls.

The two boys could play for hours together and often did. 'We will be great knights sume dee, will we nay.' John exclaimed to Richard. 'Aye!' Of course, Richard agreed.



1432



The years had passed pleasantly for the Eastons. The weather had been mild and harvests had been good. The ox had died, but Lind was successful enough that he was able to purchase a younger ox and a cow.

England's long war with France continued, but there was relative calm around Stamford. The war with France had taken a sudden turn for England with the capture and the execution of Joan of Arc on May 30, 1431. It had taken a few weeks for news of her execution to reach Stamford, but when it did, there were great rejoicings. To the English, she was a convicted heretic, but to her countryman, she was the greatest of heros and they always fought with great energy when she rallied them. An English knight passing through Stamford had shared tales of her cunning and strategy. 'She 'eard voices telling 'er whot to do,' he had told them, assuring them that he knew she was a witch. 'If she was nay a witch, God would 'ave saved 'er,' he exclaimed to the large crowd at the public house. For this news and for his bravery, much ale was purchased for him. 'Aye, I saw 'er burned at the stake meself,' he proudly proclaimed. He then related that she was so important to the cause of the French that the English had burned her body thrice to ensure that no one could steal any of it for use as a religious relic. 'Boot, luk 'ere,' said he, 'I 'ave the cross that she cast 'er eyes upon just before she deed.' With that he produced a large brass cross out of a bag that he carried. 'Whot will you give me for it?' His price was too high and since he was traveling north toward Lincoln, he was sure that he would get a great sum for it at the cathedral.

Richard and John wished that they could have been to the burning. They imagined what it must have been like to watch the wood be set ablaze and wondered whether it would smell. 'sume dee we too will fight the 'orrible French,' they proclaimed. Richard and John remained close friends, despite their vastly different stations in life.

Religious piety was always an important part of life in Stamford, as evidenced by the several churches that occupied this market towne. However, despite its importance economically, Stamford still did not have a cathedral. John's father and others hoped that they could influence the Bishop of Lincoln that a truly magnificent edifice in the praise of God should be erected in Stamford.

Most everyone in the village of Easton-on-the-hill and in the towne of Stamford attended religious services on Sunday. Richard preferred to attend with John and often did. He couldn't understand any of the Latin and found the entire experience beyond interest or comprehension. John knew some Latin and occasionally explained some of the ritual to Richard, but mostly they just whispered to each other. Their interest lately was mostly regarding the girls that were in attendance.

John's ancestors had been instrumental in enlarging the All Saints' church in Stamford. It wasn't the largest church in towne, Saint Mary's had that distinction, and it didn't have a steeple, but Richard thought it was a wonderful church. It was the oldest church in all of Stamford, having been first mentioned in the Domesday survey that William the Conqueror had commissioned in 1086.

Richard never had an affinity for farming, but it was in the All Saints' church that the realization solidified within him that he really never would be a farmer. On this particular Sunday, Richard and John were whispering to each other, when suddenly, as the priest spoke he pointed to the west window, Richard looked and was awaken for the first time at the beauty of the glass of the church. The light bursting through the glass brought out the colors and seemed to come from the presence of God. Something in that moment spoke to his heart and he yearned to express his love of God through glass. He knew that he had to do that. He didn't even know what trade it was that did such marvelous work, but he knew that he wanted to do the same. The glaziers who had crafted the windows were true artisans. The great west window held the images of many biblical people, including prophets and The Lord Himself. The colored glass made the images come alive and suddenly the stories started to touch his soul.

'John, luk at the window. I want to make a magnificent window sumdee.'

'Aye, it is a luvly window,' replied John, 'boot you are going to be a farmer, like your father.'

'No. I do nay care for farming at all.'

''ow are you going to be soch a skilled craftsman? A craftsman must 'ave an apprenticeship. Your father would never agree and 'e does nay 'ave muney,' whispered John.

'I will find a way,' promised Richard.

John's father and mother were by that time giving them looks that told them that they had better quit whispering.

After the service, Richard departed from John's company and decided to walk past Saint Michael's on High Street, then past Saint George's and Saint Mary's. As he passed by each edifice he studied the glass work from the outside. The colors were darker and the windows were not so compelling as his experience in All Saints'. Then he realized that the effect he had witnessed was the light pouring through the glass. It was the light that gave the life to the glass. Richard thought on this again and again as he walked over the River Welland on the Stamford Bridge and on past Saint Martin's. The light, he realized, was like the power of God, giving the window its life. That light and that power could only be witnessed from inside the church. God was in the church. For the first time in his twelve years Richard began to understand the power that came from worshiping together.

Richard then followed a pathway along the river until he cut through the fields and on to his home. His mother and father had arrived home from worship services some time earlier. They of course had attended in the All Saints' church of Easton-on-the-hill.

'Where 'ave you been for so long?' asked his father, 'We still 'ave work to do.' Despite the fact that it was the Lord's Day, the animals still had to be care for. Work on the farm is never done and there was really very little time to rest, especially a whole day.

'I 'ate this farm,' said Richard half under his breath.

'Whot was that you seed?' questioned his father.

'I seed that I 'ate farming,' exclaimed Richard with a little more energy than he had expected.

'And if you 'ate farming so much,' questioned Lind ''ow do you expect to eat?' 'If you like eating our food, you'd bet'er also luv farming. That is 'ow we eat.'

His mother, Gleda, had been listening and came to Richard' side. 'Lind, me luv, the boy luvs farming, he just needs sume dinner. Let 'im eat before he works.'

Lind relented and went out the door with Bromley.

As Gleda broke off a piece of bread for Richard, she asked, 'Whot is this then, that you do nay care for farming? Is that true?' Gleda already knew that it was true and she had been concerned. There were not a lot of options for a poor boy from a small village. But, she also knew that Bromley would inherit the farm and the cottage.

'Yes, mum, it is true. I 'ave never liked farming.'

'Then whot is it that you fancy yourself doing so that you can eat?'

'I am going to fashion magnificent windows for the church,' replied Richard with conviction.

'Whot! A glazier?' replied Gleda. This is the first time that Richard had heard the word, it sounded strange to him. 'And 'ow will you do that? A person must have training, an apprenticeship! That costs muney and we do nay 'ave it.'

Richard had finished his bread and milk and he left through the door to join Lind and Bromley. He was a little dejected at the response that he had received. He had really thought that his mother would understand.

____________________



After the worship service, John had returned to the Darby estate with his parents. The well manicured park rolled over the hills to the right and the River Welland hugged the grounds to the left as it crawled its way toward Stamford. The park surrounding the estate was well apportioned with neatly trimmed hedges and the beautiful house was guarded by a deep and wide mote. The house sat upon a little rise and from that point a person could see miles of rolling fields, each separated with a hedge or a stone wall. Sheep grazed in many of the fields. Stamford was to the east, in front of the house and Easton-on-the-hill was to the south. The many churches of Stamford were visible from the Darby estate.

As the Darby's sat down in the great hall for their evening meal, John's mother asked, 'Whot was it that you and Richard were so intent on discussing during the service todee?'

John considered carefully his response. For much of the time they had been whispering about a pretty girl with long golden hair. They also had been making jokes about one of the alter boys. He certainly did not want to mention this to his mother. Then he remembered their conversation about the glass.

'Richard wants to be a glazier,' John offered.

'A glazier? And 'ow doze 'e plan to accomplish soch a thing withoot muney? Does 'is father 'ave muney to pay for an apprenticeship?' questioned Mrs. Darby.

'If 'e 'ad soch an amount of muney,' stated John's father, 'e'd likely own an 'orse.'

The conversation then shifted from the Easton's and the apprenticeship to a subject that John liked far less.

John's father looked intently at his oldest son and said, 'I 'ave made arrangements for you to start school in Peterborough next month. If you do well there, you will go to Oxford when you are fourteen.'

John knew better than to protest and besides, he had known for years that he would eventually be sent away to school. Still, he did not want to go.

'When do I leave?'

'In a fortnight,' said his father.

'Must I leave so soon?'

'There is an opening at the school in a fortnight. So, yes, you must leave at that time,' his father stated.

John's mother had been thinking about Richard while this conversation was going on.

'Culd we nay pay for an apprenticeship for that yung man?' she asked.

'Why wuld we do that?' asked his father.

'I 'ave always liked 'im and 'e 'as been a gud friend to John for many years,' she offered. 'I 'ave always felt for 'im losing 'is real parents, being an orph....' Then she caught herself and stopped. John didn't know that Richard had lost his parents and that Lind and Gleda were not his real parents. This caught John by surprise.

'Whot, Richard was an orphan?' questioned John.

John's father eyed his mother with a look that communicated that she should not have said that.

'Soory, I shuld nay 'ave said that. Please do nay say anything to Richard. I do nay believe that 'e knows.'

John's father had left the dinner table now and was looking out the window to the south, toward Easton-on-the-hill. To change the subject and to soften the surprise of this news, he stated, 'Yes, I think that paying for Richard's apprenticeship would be a very good thing.' Turning back to the table now with his hands on his hips as a sign of determination, he exclaimed, 'I will 'ave a word with Lind on the morrow.'

The next morning found Lind and Bromley and Richard in the fields before the cock crowed. The days were getting colder and it was important to get the crop in before the cold rains started. They would likely be in the fields until well after the sun had set. Gleda and Geva would join them after the chickens and the hogs had been fed. Because the season seemed short this year, it would take the entire family to get the crops in before the rains started. Lind expected that they had one week, maybe a fortnight to accomplish the task. He had been watching the weather and the sun had not been seen for days. Short, light rains had fallen nearly each day.

Getting the crop in out of the fields was hard work. Richard was finally old enough and large enough that he could wield the sithe for hours on end. He knew though that by the time that the sun set his shoulders would ache and his hands would be numb from the grip of the handles. With each sweeping movement of the sithe, he would feel the heaviness of the tool as it passed through the stalks of grain. He would welcome the opportunity to rest occasionally to sharpen the blade. Richard's father used to say, 'I rest between cuts.' Richard thought about that, but could never figure it out.

The three of them would start at the lower end of the field and would work as a team, always working around the field to the left. The stalks were easier to cut when they were slightly damp, so if a light rain fell, they would likely cut all day. If a light rain did not fall, or if too much rain started falling, they would stop and collect the cut stalks into a stack.

Despite the fact that they worked in close proximity to each other and as a team, there was little speaking when they worked. This left long hours to just think. Richard thought of anything but farming. Today, his thoughts alternated between the marvelous glass work that he had seen and the girls that were at the worship service the day before.

It was a little after the noon meal that they saw two riders on horseback coming their way across the freshly cut field. Geva saw them first. 'Luk, over there. It luks like the Darby's are combin'.' She straightened her skirt and hair a little in anticipation. She had long fancied John Darby, the son, but it was never clear that he had taken any real notice of her.

John Darby was a gentlemen and when he wanted to speak to a commoner, the commoner had better take notice.

John Darby and his son, John, rode right up to the Easton's. The son lighted off his horse and walked over to Richard. The father remained on his horse to address Lind.

'Lind Easton, I 'ave comb to discuss a matter with you.'

'Whot is it then, Lord Darby?' queried Lind.

'I 'ear that your boy there wants to be a glazier and I 'ave comb to tell you that I 'ave paid for his apprenticeship.'

Lind tried to protest, but John Darby would not hear it. 'I 'ave already spoken with the Master Glazier at the shoppe in Stamford and it is all set'eld,' proclaimed John Darby.

Lind had been leaning on his sithe, but now let it fall to the ground. He was not happy about John Darby meddling in his family's affairs, but was powerless to do anything about it.

'When does 'e start?' questioned Lind.

'In a munth next,' was the reply.

'I am grateful to you. God speed,' Lind said through his gritted teeth.

Richard and John, the son, were standing a few paces off during this exchange. John shared with Richard the good news of the apprenticeship and Richard was thrilled with the news. Then John asked Richard whether he knew that Lind and Gleda were not his parents.

'Do nay be daft,' said Richard, 'Of course, they are me parents.'

'Nay, they are nay your parents,' insisted John, 'Me mum said so yesterdee.' Richard refused to believe him and was getting agitated.

'Luk at Geva, your supposed twin. She has auburn 'air and your 'air is dark.' Richard looked. Of course, he had already noticed that. 'Luk at your father and mother and Bromley,' urged John. 'They all 'ave auburn 'air.'

'Also, 'ow is it that you are already taller than your father?' Richard began to see his family differently and it was suddenly too much to take in.

'I think that you best be going,' demanded Richard and he went back to cutting the grain.

The Darby's rode away and the Easton's were left to their work again. Nothing was said more concerning the matter until they had finished for the day and were back at the cottage.

'So, you will be a glazier after all,' said Lind with a little accusation in his voice. He suspected that Richard had asked the Darby's to help him secure the apprenticeship.

'Richard, me luv, whot is wrong?' asked Gleda, noticing Richard's countenance.

'John told me todee that you are nay me parents. 'ow culd you keep that secret from me all of these years?'

'Sone, it makes no difference who you are. We luv you. Is that nay right, Lind?'

'Of course, that is right,' said Lind, but the realization that they should probably have told Richard the truth and also news of the apprenticeship had shaken his emotions. He left the cottage and went out into the night.

Richard suddenly didn't feel quite at home in the cottage and he didn't know how to feel about his family. He retreated to the quiet of the loft. He intended to sort it out in his mind, but owing to his fatigue, fell right to sleep.

There was no further discussion on either matter the next day and his relationship with his family seemed to fall right back into place, yet there were lingering doubts in his mind.

Richard didn't see John for the next two weeks and then John was off to Peterborough for school. The family successfully gathered in the crops and all seemed right. Richard though was still unsettled about his place in the family and also disappointed that his last words to John had been stern. He wasn't sure when he would see John again.