The Remembered (12 page)

They were all listening very intently, but Bromley's voice faltered. He felt a lump in his throat as though the words would not come out. He coughed a little to gain control of his emotions and he avoided their eyes.
Gleda sensed that Bromley was about to share some disturbing news and she kneeled down on the floor next to Bromley. She held his hand as though to give him strength, and yet she didn't want to hear.
Bromley continued, 'Then the priest told me that soon before the glaziers left Bourne, one of them, a yung journeyman fitting the description of Richard, had fallen from a window and deed.'
Sobs bursts out of Gleda, Geva and Margaret. Gleda buried her head in her dress and cried out in anguish, 'I knew that there was sumething wrong when 'e did nay return right away.' Geva and Margaret hugged each other and sobbed.
'Can you be certain of this, Bromley?' Lind asked in a quiet voice.
'I did nay see the grave and I did nay go to Boston to luk for Richard. I thought it best to try and catch up with Elizabeth's family and tell 'er.'
'And did you find Elizabeth?' asked Lind.
'Aye, that is why I was delayed for two dees.'
'Bromley,' said Lind in a mildly chiding voice, 'we can nay be sure that Richard is deed, boot now Elizabeth must think that 'e is.'
'I did nay know whot else to do,' responded Bromley with some remorse.
'You did fine,' replied Lind.
Gleda had left the cottage now and so Lind went outside to comfort her.
'Go to Boston and find me boy,' demanded Gleda between her sobs.
'Gleda,' responded Lind in a kind and quiet tone, 'we do nay know for certain whot 'as become of Richard. Let us wait a few more dees. If no more word combs or if 'e is still nay 'ere, I will go to Bourne meself and to Boston if necessary to learn the truth.'
''e may be deed,' sobbed Gleda.
'Yes,' agreed Lind quietly, ''e may be deed, boot 'e may nay be deed. If 'e is yet alive, 'e will return soon. 'e promised Elizabeth that 'e wuld comb for 'er and comb 'e will if 'e is yet alive. Nuthing changes if we wait a few more dees.'
Gleda held Lind close and still crying, laid her face on his chest. 'I just want me boys back.'
Lind looked over Gleda's head at the surrounding farm. He wanted his boys back also. He needed the help. He realized that he was no longer a young man, in fact he was feeling a little tired. Yes, he also wanted his boys back. His relationship with Richard had been somewhat strained since Richard had learned that Lind was not his real father, but Lind loved Richard just the same. As he thought about this and the possibility that he would not see Richard again, he also found that his breathing was shallow and rapid and a lump had formed in his throat.

November 1437
 

The remainder of the trip to Trowell was made even more unbearable by the news that Bromley had delivered to Elizabeth and her family. She hadn't yet told her mother and father that she was pregnant and didn't think that she would be able to conceal it from them for much longer. She held out hope that Richard was yet alive and would find her.
The family passed south of Nottingham on their way to Trowell. In the distance, Elizabeth could see the large church of the towne. She thought that it must be a grand church and she longed to be there. She thought that Nottingham looked like a beautiful towne and she was looking forward to living near it. Surely it would have a large market.
Before they reached Trowell, Elizabeth changed back into her own clothing. It was so nice to look like a woman again. She decided though that her father was probably right in having her dress the way he had. Traveling had its risks and traveling with a man who was ill, left them with little protection. The men's clothing had been a reasonable means of reducing the risk.
They entered Trowell on the Nottingham road and passed the small village church of Saint Helen's.
Trowell was a small village with only a few houses near the church. Her father's sister didn't actually live in the village, but just outside on the road to Ilkeston. There were few people on the village street when they passed through and those that were there stopped what they were doing to stare at the wagon loaded with household items and the strangers with it.
Elizabeth's father perked up some as they started on the Ilkeston road. He had been telling the family about his sister and his brother-in-law and he was anticipating the reunion. Elizabeth and her brothers had never met them and her brothers wondered whether there would be cousins their ages. Elizabeth's father was sure that they would find a welcomed respite there until he recovered.
As they neared the cottage, it seemed very quiet. There were no animals in the pasture. The shelter for the animals stood in disrepair. It was clear that something was not right. As they passed by the large oak trees that were partially obscuring the view, they came in full view of the cottage. It was only a shell. The thatched roof had evidently caught fire some time ago. The roof lay crumpled in a heap in the middle of the standing four stone walls. Other than the chimney, that was all that was standing. The family looked aghast upon the sight. Elizabeth didn't know when she had ever seen a more horrifying sight. Where would they go now?
'Whot will we do now?' cried Elizabeth's mother. 'Where will we go?'
'I do nay know,' sighed her father. He had sunk down into the wagon and the energy had left him.
Her brothers were rummaging around in the burned out shell.
'Get oot of there,' yelled her mother. Elizabeth sensed that her mother was seriously strained by this new discovery. Her mother got down off the wagon and fell on the grass and cried.
Elizabeth's father laid his head back against the wagon and closed his eyes. She didn't think that she had ever seen him in such despair.
'Father,' whispered Elizabeth. She didn't want to cause her mother any further distress. 'Where will we go? We can nay stay 'ere. It will be dark soon and it is get'ing cold.'
'We still 'ave a lit'le muney,' replied her father without opening his eyes. 'We will stay in the inn that we passed in Trowell.'
'Boot, where will we go tomorrow?'
'I do nay know, Elizabeth.'
Her mother stood slowly and wiped her tears. 'I 'ave family near Not'ing'am. It is nay far. Let us go there.'
Elizabeth's father opened his eyes and looked straight at her mother. 'I will nay beg from your family. I will dee at the side of the road first.'
'And shall we dee with you?' posed her mother in a raised voice. 'You and your pride will be our deeth.'
Elizabeth hadn't realized it until now that her mother's family had not approved of her parent's marriage. Elizabeth had never met her mother's family and now it made more sense to her. Not only was the distance measured in miles, but it was also measure in pride.
Her father started coughing violently now and he held his chest in pain. He had lost the energy to argue and just shook his head in reluctant agreement that they should go to his wife's family for help. Their situation was getting critical and without help, they would not last long. They were nearing the end of their meager food and money supply. With winter settling in, if they didn't get help soon, the family would surely be broken up.
A light rain started falling as the family turned the wagon around and slowly made their way back to the only inn for miles around. Their hopes were dashed, but Elizabeth's were crushed.
'ow will Richard find us?' she moaned as the wagon creaked along the roadway.
'Elizabeth,' replied her mother, 'you do nay even know that 'e is yet alive.'
'Boot, I feel that 'e is,'
Elizabeth and her parents spent the night in the inn and her brothers spent the night beneath the wagon, trying as best they could to stay dry. Elizabeth's father could not manage the stairway in the inn, so she and her mother helped him. Before laboring up the stairs, her father asked the innkeeper where the family with the burnt out cottage had gone. He wasn't sure, but thought that they had gone to Worcester.
There was one bed in the room, so Elizabeth slept on the floor and her parents shared the small bed. She had grown accustom to her father's snoring, but his illness seemed to intensify the snoring. Elizabeth awoke to the ringing of the church bells the next morning. Odd, she thought, since she rarely was still in bed when the bells rang in Burghley. Opening her eyes, she could see that the sun was peering through the window covering. 'Strange that Father did nay wake me. I wonder whether 'e is checking on the boys. 'ow culd 'e get down the stairs?', Elizabeth thought to herself. She looked at the bed and noticed that her father was still in bed. Then she realized that she didn't wake at all during the night to his snoring.
Elizabeth got up off the floor and rushed to her father's side to wake him. She reached out to gently shake him and she recoiled. He was stiff and cold to touch. She let out a gasp and covered her mouth with her hands. Then she cried out, 'Mum, 'e is deed! Father is deed!' She sobbed and ran downstairs to find her brothers.
'Lads, comb quickly! 'urry, your father is deed!' she cried.
Returning to the room, they found their mother kneeling on the bed and bent over their father. She was sobbing and apologizing to him for being angry with him the previous day.
'No, Dear God, do nay take 'im from me,' she cried as tears dropped from her face and onto her husband's face. 'I can nay go on withoot 'im.'
Elizabeth and her brothers knelt by the bedside and hugged their mother. Elizabeth felt a huge burden rest upon her shoulders as she realized that her mother really meant what she said. Elizabeth was going to have to be a strength and support for her mother until her brothers grew up some. Her concern for Richard slipped to the recesses of her mind as she considered their plight. She now needed to get her family to Nottingham as quickly as possible.
'Shhh, Mum,' said Elizabeth 'let us be very quiet and not draw more attention to ourselves than needed. We do nay want any trouble in this village where they do nay know us.' She expected that if they were to take him to Nottingham it would be easier to get a priest familiar with the family to give him burial rites and find a burial site for him. They didn't have money for a burial here. Hopefully, her mother's family would help.
'Lads,' Elizabeth said, ''urry and 'itch the ox to the wagon. Mum, let us get Father downstairs before sumeone sees.'
Elizabeth checked the hallway and stairs. There was apparently no one in the inn. She looked out the window to the back of the inn and saw that innkeeper tending to some animals in the pasture. She and her mother lifted their father between them with his arms over their shoulders. He was heavier than Elizabeth had expected, but they managed to 'walk' him down the stairs and out the side door of the inn.
There was no one in the courtyard and they carried him in the same way to the wagon. The boys helped them lift him into the wagon. They leaned him against the side of the wagon in the same position that he had occupied the entire trip. Elizabeth was about to climb into the wagon when she looked back at the inn and noticed with alarm the tracks that they had left in the soft earth. Two pair of footsteps with two long grooves in between where his feet had dragged led to the wagon from the inn. She quickly grabbed a nearly empty bag of potatoes and dragged them to the inn and back to erase the marks.
At last the wagon pulled slowly away from the inn and pointed toward Nottingham. The innkeeper came into the courtyard at about that time and watched as the family moved along the Nottingham road.
As they neared Nottingham and when her brothers were out of earshot, Elizabeth turned and said to her mother, 'Mum, I am with child.'
'You are with child?' asked her mother with excitement. Her excitement was short lived and was tempered by the realization that Elizabeth no longer had a husband. 'Elizabeth, you must nay tell anyone. Promise me,' urged her mother.
'Well, I will nay be able to keep it a secret for very long,' observed Elizabeth with a smile.
'Elizabeth,' replied her mother in a serious tone, 'you do nay 'ave a 'usband. People do nay take kindly to a woman with a child and no 'usband.'
'I do 'ave a 'usband,' Elizabeth replied quietly, but with some force. Her brothers were closer now, so the women spoke in hushed voices.
'And where is 'e then? Maybe 'e is in the wagon with your father.' Her mother felt sorry for saying it as soon as the words had escaped. But, she felt that she needed to cause Elizabeth to accept that Richard was gone. She also was pained that she was now alone.
Elizabeth sat down inside the wagon and faced the other direction, burying her head between her knees to hide her tears.
'I am soory, me luv,' offered her mother. 'Please forgive me.' Elizabeth didn't respond. ''ow long 'as it been that you are with child?'
Without lifting her head, Elizabeth replied that she wasn't certain, but that it wasn't long.
''ow 'ave I nay not'iced, me child?' asked her mother.
'You culd nay not'ice, Mum, you 'ave been caring for Father. I am fine.'
 

November 1437

Boston, England

Richard surveyed the window that he had been working on for the last several days. The window was completed and it was magnificent. It was large enough that it required metal bars to be attached for reinforcement. He had just finished adding the bars and the window would be lifted into place the next day. This window told the story of Moses leading the children of Israel out of Egypt. Richard wasn't even sure where Egypt was, but he loved the story of God's power.
The work had gone well for Richard at St. Botolph's in Boston. He got along well with the Master and the other glaziers. He had found a small lodging that would work well for he and Elizabeth for now. The rooms were in towne, near to the church and the Glazier shoppe. They were on the second floor of a two story building that was also connected to other buildings. Richard had never lived in towne and was finding that living in such close proximity to others didn't suit him well. It would have to do for now though.
Richard did however enjoy living near to the River Witham. It was a tidal river that ran next to St. Botolph's and emptied into the North Sea. The river was the means of much trade moving through Boston. Richard enjoyed the solitude that walking near the river brought him. Before his day started at the Glazier shoppe, he had often followed the tidal river to the docks to watch the birds and the trade moving in and out of Boston. He noted that there was significant quantities of wool being shipped from Boston. Seeing the wool being shipped caused him to wonder how his friend John was doing. He hadn't seen or thought of John for a very long time it seemed.
The tidal river also had other benefits. One of the other glaziers had shown him that at low tide fish could be easily caught in the river. The meat of the fish was a welcomed addition to his otherwise bland diet.
He had been in Boston for more that a fortnight and now that the window was done, the Master was allowing him to return to Burghley for Elizabeth. How he had missed Elizabeth. He had never been away before and now he was so anxious to return. He found that if he thought about Elizabeth and home too frequently, his mood turned melancholy. But, regardless, it seemed that he thought of her continually. He thought of her laugh and the sparkle of her eyes when she smiled. He loved the way that she danced with so much gaiety. He imagined her braided hair wrapped around her head like a crown, each braid adorned with flowers, like jewels. In his mind he could see her dress flare out as she twilled to an imaginary song. He longed to hold her and look into her beautiful eyes.
With work done for the day, he was free to leave for Stamford, Burghley and Easton-on-the-hill. He collected his wages and left straightway. He didn't like traveling after dark, but he hoped to be in Burghley before dark the next day. If he made good time tonight, he could get a room in Spalding before midnight. He was carrying most everything that he owned. He had come to Boston with almost nothing, but now he had a new cloak with a hood, a nicer blanket and money in his pouch. He would keep the pouch beneath his long shirt so as to not call attention.
It appeared that this trip would afford him good weather, except for the expected November chill. The flat fens offered no protection from the wind as it blew off the North Sea. He pulled the cloak tightly around himself and held the hood close to his chin. He also wrapped the wool blanket around his shoulders. He was happy that there was no rain or snow.
A few miles outside of Boston, the dark night yielded slightly as the moon began to rise. 'The moon will be welcomed company,' he thought as he noticed it rising over his left shoulder.
Because the roads were fairly dry and with the advantage of the moonlight, Richard traveled faster than he had expected and he was sure that he was in Spalding before midnight. The innkeeper still had the lamp lit at the 'Boar's Head' and Richard went inside and secured some potatoes, bread and milk and a room. The room had a large bed with a fine straw mattress and he wasn't sure that he had ever slept in so fine a room. He marveled at the ease of travel when a traveler had money in his pouch. Before retiring to the bed, Richard prayed for Elizabeth as was his custom.
Richard got an early start the next morning. Finally, today was the day that he would be reunited with his dear wife. He crossed the River Welland a few miles outside Spalding and imagined it flowing through Stamford and near to Burghley. He imagined that the same water flowing beneath the bridge that he was walking across was the same water that had flowed beneath the Stamford Bridge the day previous and that Elizabeth was on the bridge when it passed beneath. He spotted a flower floating in the water. In his mind's eye he saw Elizabeth toss the flower into the water with a smile on her face while thinking of him. The thought drew his heart more to Elizabeth.
It was still daylight when Richard walked into Stamford. He realized that nothing seemed to have changed, and why should it, Stamford had always been as he knew it. But, he realized that he had changed. He had faced obstacles, loneliness, hunger, and the elements and had survived. He had found a job on his own in a strange place and had traveled and worked with strangers. He was returning to his home with more courage and strength than he had possessed when he left. 'Elizabeth will be pleased,' he thought and he picked up his pace.
With great anticipation, he approached the cottage in Burghley. The cottage appeared strangely quiet he thought. No animals around it and no one in the garden. He didn't bother knocking on the door, but went right inside. He was shocked to find the house completely empty. There was not even a pot by the fireplace.
Richard's mind seemed to swirl as he looked around the room in disbelief. He walked back outside and stood at the doorway and surveyed the surroundings as though to convince himself that he was at the right cottage.
Burghley is a small hamlet with only a few houses. 'One of the neighbors will know where they 'ave gone,' he thought. His heart was racing as he dropped his bundle and ran to the nearest cottage. He found a man working on a fence and blurted out, 'Where 'ave they gone? The cot'age is empty.'
Richard must have surprised the neighbor because he jumped to his feet and spun around to face Richard while holding the hammer in front of himself like a weapon.
'Who is gone, who are you?' demanded the neighbor.
'Do forgive me,' he blurted out as he gasped for breath, backing off a bit so as to not appear threatening, 'I am Richard Easton, me wife Elizabeth lived with 'er family in the cot'age at the bot'om of the 'ill.'
With that information, the neighbor was set at ease and lower the hammer. 'They 'ave gone. Kicked off the land when they culd nay pay rent.'
'Gone? Where 'ave they gone?' pled Richard.
'I do nay know where they 'ave gone,' replied the neighbor. 'They left suddenly and it is a real shame, 'er father being sick and all. Boot, if you do nay pay the rent, whot can the landowner do?'
The shock and the run had made Richard warm and despite the November cold, he removed his cloak and held it in his hand. 'Does anyone know where they 'ave gone?'
'Nay, I 'ear that they went to live with family though. Sone, you luk tired and 'ungry. Comb inseed and 'ave sume supper,' offered the neighbor.
'Nay, boot you are kind,' replied Richard. 'I must find where they 'ave gone.' And with that, Richard left the yard briskly. He only stopped at the cottage long enough to pick up his bundle and then he headed for Easton-on-the-hill.
Richard rushed along the Kettering Road as quickly as he could to reach Easton-on-the-hill. He hadn't been on the road long when he heard the pounding of horses hooves behind him. He turned and in the gathering darkness could see 10, maybe more, horses pushing toward him. He quickly stepped off the roadway and into the bushes to let them pass and also to not be seen if he could help it. As the men on horseback thundered past with mud flying from their horses hoofs, Richard could see their swords and he knew that they were knights and wondered why there were so many together and where they might be going.
'To travel on a fine 'orse wuld be grand indeed,' Richard spoke out loud, but to himself.
'Aye, indeed it wuld,' someone nearby said.
Richard spun to face the speaker and instinctively put his hand on his pouch.
'Who goes there?' demanded Richard.
'It is only a lonely traveler,' spoke the person half concealed by the gathering darkness. 'Shall we walk together?'
'Nay,' replied Richard, 'I 'ave no use for a companion.' He knew all too well that robbers worked in pairs or in groups. And with that, he bounded back onto the road and ran toward Easton-on-the-hill.
Richard soon reached his father's cottage and burst through the door without announcing himself. Doing so surprised his mother, father, Margaret, Geva and Ralf who were just beginning their evening meal together. Bromley was lying on the floor asleep.
Lind and Ralf jumped to their feet with such surprise that they upset the table and milk spilled from glasses. Lind was already reaching for something to use as a weapon when Gleda and Geva almost simultaneously shouted out Richard's name. The shock was too much for Gleda and she momentarily lost all strength.
'Richard? Is that really you, me boy,' shouted Lind as he grabbed Richard by the shoulders with both arms.
Geva and Margaret were overjoyed and both ran to Richard and grabbed him about the waist with such momentum that it knocked Richard against the wall and almost off his feet.
'Richard, Richard,' were the only words that they seemed capable of uttering.
Richard had certainly never experienced such a greeting and hadn't expected it now after being gone only a little over a fortnight.
Gleda had regained her strength. She pushed aside the other women and hugged Richard tightly and rested her head on his chest. 'Richard, you are alive,' she said, 'you are nay deed!'
'Deed?' replied Richard. 'Of course, I am nay deed. Why wuld I be deed?'
'Bromley told us that you were deed,' said Lind. Lind explained that they had sent Bromley to find Richard and that he had thought that Richard had died in Bourne.
'I was only in Bourne for one night, then I went to Boston as there was no glazier work being dune in Bourne. Why was Bromley luking for me then?
'I sent Bromley to luk for you to tell you where to find Elizabeth,' said Margaret.
Richard grabbed Margaret's hands and looked intently into her eyes. 'Where is Elizabeth? The cot'age was empty.'
''er father was kicked off the land and they went to Trowell to live with relatives until 'er father is well. I promised Elizabeth that I wuld send Bromley to tell you where to find them,' Margaret said. She then looked down at the floor and took her hands out of Richard's hands and started to cry. 'Boot, Bromley thought that you were deed, Richard.' She hesitated, hoping that Richard would figure out what she was about to say so that she would not have to say it. Richard gently lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. Tears were now coursing down her cheeks and her lips were quivering.
'Why the sadness, Margaret? I am grateful to you for sending Bromley,' Richard said in a gently and soothing tone.
Margaret now stated what should have been obvious. 'Richard,' she started with halting speech, 'Bromley told 'er that you were deed!' She couldn't look at Richard any longer and sat down and buried her head in her hands and dress.
Gleda and Geva were now crying also. Richard was shaken to think that his wife thought him dead. He knelt by Margaret and held her close. 'Whot will you do now?' Margaret asked him.
'I will go to Trowell and find me Elizabeth. I will leave tonight.'
'Nay sone,' urged Lind. 'You must nay leave tonight. You are tired and weak and it is dangerous to travel at night. Stay with us.'
'Please me sone,' pled Gleda, 'do stay with us tonight.' Geva and Margaret agreed.
The urgency of finding Elizabeth weighed heavily on Richard, but he also thought of the person that he had met in the wood that night and decided that it was prudent to wait until morning. 'Aye, I will stay tonight.'
Until then Richard had not noticed Bromley laying in the corner. Now that he noticed him, he stepped near him and knelt beside him.
'Whot is wrong with Bromley,' he asked.
They related to Richard how Bromley had been gored by a bull and how he had seemed to be getting better, but that now his leg was swollen and the flesh was raw and smelled badly. He was getting progressively worse. He was in pain most of the time and only received relief when he managed to fall asleep from exhaustion. He also had a fever that would not disperse. They were planning to have the leg amputated, but Bromley refused. He felt that he wouldn't be any good to anyone if he were missing a leg. He would sooner die.
Richard was saddened to hear of Bromley misfortune and now his decision to never run with the bulls was solidified.
Richard kneeled close to Bromley and whispered quietly in his ear. 'I am grateful to you, dear brother, for finding me Elizabeth. I forgive you for telling 'er that I was deed. I will find 'er meself. You 'ave been a gud brother to me. I am soory...' Richard placed a hand on Bromley's head for a moment and then stood. He felt that this was in some way his fault. If he had not gone to Bourne and to Boston when he did, Bromley would yet be well. A guilt swept over him.
His father sensed what he might be thinking and feeling. He stood by Richard and placed a hand on his shoulder and said to him, 'Richard, you must nay blame yourself. It is nay your fault that Bromley ran with the bulls. He wuld 'ave dune it anyway.'
Richard knew that was true, but he felt badly regardless.
Richard turned away from Bromley and toward the others. He realized that they were discussing the many knights that had been on the roadway for the last couple of days. Each had been heading south.