The Remembered

by Lorenzo, EH

  'Aye, me 'orse is tied in the back of the public 'ouse. Follow me.'

  John followed the stranger to the back of the public house. There was a horse there. It wasn't a great horse as John was accustomed, but John expected that it would suffice.

  ''ow much?' asked John.

  'Three pounds,' replied the stranger

  'That is a lit'le dear,' replied John. 'The most I will give you is two pounds five shillings.'

  'Two pounds ten shillings, or nuthing,' replied the stranger.

  'Dune,' said John and he removed his pouch from his belt.

  John hadn't noticed a second stranger standing around the corner of the public house when they walked up to the horse. As soon as John had removed his pouch, the second stranger sprang forward, grabbed the pouch and jumped onto the horse and rode quickly away. It happened so fast that John didn't even get a good look at the second stranger. The man who had the horse yelled at the second stranger and watched as he rode away.

  John was upset at the loss of all his money and he grabbed the first stranger and accused him of working in concert with the thief.

  'You thief,' shouted John. 'I will 'ave your 'ead for this.' Suddenly, John felt a knife pressing against his side and he released the stranger and stepped backward.

  'I 'ave been robbed also, sir,' shouted the stranger. 'Me 'orse is gone!'

  'Surely the thief is your friend and you both 'ave arranged this,' John said as he pulled his own knife from beneath his cloak and held it in front of himself.

  'I assure you sir that we did nuthing of the sort. I 'ave never seen that man before. Boot, if you wish for me to prove me words with me knife, then so be it,' and he stepped forward toward John.

  John squared his shoulders and planted his feet firmly. He unclasped his cloak with his left hand and cast it aside as the stranger circled to the right. The stranger made a half lunge at John and then jumped backward. John lunged forward and as he did, the stranger turned and ran toward the nearby woods. As he neared the woods, the supposed horse thief emerged from the woods on horseback and galloped toward him. The stranger swung himself up onto the back of the horse and the two rode away.

  ''ow culd I 'ave been so daft?' John shouted as he stomped around in the mud, all the while yelling at the world. He threw his knife into the side of the public house and kicked the mud.

  After he calmed a bit, he took note of his situation and realized that it was not good. He was a very long way from home, without a horse and without money. At least his belly was full for the time being.

  John picked up his muddy cloak and retrieved his knife. With no money, there was no point in going to Rainham, so John instead headed north. After walking for several miles he became aware of blisters forming on his heels and toes. The boots that he was wearing were good for riding, but not much for walking.

  It was well after dark by the time that he reached Epping. The meal that he had eaten earlier in the day seemed like a distant memory and the hunger that he was starting to feel was as unusual to his experience as a drought was in England. His feet were feeling raw from the blisters and so he found a small stream to rinse them off and to ease the pain. The water was cold, but had a soothing effect on his sores.

  Since he didn't have any money, he would have to spend the night outside. He couldn't remember the last time that he had done that, or whether he ever had done so. John studied the dark sky and could see some stars, so he expected that it probably wouldn't rain. He found a smooth place beneath an oak tree, and since he didn't know how to build a fire, he laid down, wrapped his cloak around himself and tried to sleep. It was a cold night and seemed to him that he didn't get any sleep at all. John thought about Agnes and he longed to be beside her in a warm bed. He wasn't certain that he had ever been as cold as he was that night.

  As the night passed, it became colder, until the biting chill drove John from his bed. He decided that he could only stay warm if he was walking, so he wrapped his cloak more tightly about himself and started walking the road in the same direction that he had been walking before dark.

  Mercifully, the morning eventually came, and the sun rose, but it wasn't any warmer and it wasn't much easier to see. A fog had enveloped the area, making it impossible to see more than a hundred yard. Nevertheless, John welcomed the glowing rays of the sun with more gladness and appreciation that he had ever felt before. He was limping now from the constant pain in his feet. At mid morning, he decided that the only way to get relief from the pain was to cut out the offending portions of the boots. Sitting on a rock, he removed his boots and with his knife he cut out a portion of each heel. He also removed a small oval of leather where the big toe rubbed and a similar oval from where the little toe rubbed. He was pleased with the results when he put the boots back on.

  As he stood to continue on the road, he saw something moving faintly in the fog across the field. He could make out a group of four shapes and knew that they must be horses and riders. The group was coming nearly directly to him. Soon the riders were close enough that John could make out two men and two women. His heart was cheered at the prospect of meeting people of his own station in life and receiving sustenance from them.

  As the group drew near, John called out to them, 'Oy, kind sirs and ladies.' The group slowed their horses to a walk and stopped near him. 'I am 'appy to see you,' said John. 'I am John Darby of Stamford, a merchant of the Staple of Calais. I 'ave lost me 'orse and 'ave been robbed. Please, I am 'ungry and tired.'

  The group looked on him with disgust and one of the men said to the others, 'Luk at this beggar covered in mud and shoes with 'oles. 'e is repulsive.'

  'Aye,' agreed the other man. 'Shall we fetch the dogs?'

  John stood erect and addressed the group again with more urgency. 'I am John Darby of Stamford. I am 'ungry and tired. Please gud sirs, I must eat.'

  The group laughed and one of the women said to the men, 'Per'aps we culd get 'im a lit'le food.'

  'Nay,' responded one of the men. 'it is too far back to the 'ouse. Whot 'ave we to do with 'im?'

  'Please, which way is the 'ouse?' asked John. 'I do nay mind walking there.'

  The woman that hadn't spoken to that point put her nose in the air and spurred her horse on as she said, 'There is plent'y of food with the pigs. You are welcome to it.' At that, the group laughed and followed her into the fog.

  'Please, I beg you,' called John, but the group rode away laughing.

  John felt the same anger and embarrassment rise up within him as he had felt the previous day at the public house. He looked up and yelled, 'God, why are you doing this to me?' and then he sat down and placed his head in his hands. He remained that way for sometime before he stood and resumed walking.

  Fog hung thickly in the air, causing trees to take on ghostly appearances. John walked for what seemed several miles, looking up from the road only occasionally. He was at first startled when he became aware of creatures silently watching him through the fog, but then he realized that there were deer all around him. There must have been a hundred of them. He knew that he must have wandered onto an estate. He considered trying to kill a deer with a stone, but knew that would likely be fruitless and tampering with the animals on an estate would be punishable with a harsh jail sentence.

  He took courage, hoping that at this great house he would fine relief and care. In the blanket of fog, it was not clear that he would be able to find the house, but as he walked on, a large estate house seemed to rise out of the fog like a mountain.

  John approached the house with anticipation and pounded on the large doors at the entry. After several moments a servant answered the door.

  'Please, may I 'ave sume food.'

  'We do nay serve beggars at this 'ouse,' came the reply.

  'I am nay a beggar, I am John Darby of Stamford, Lincolnshire county. I must see your master.'

  'Wait 'ere,' said the servant.

  Several minutes later the owner of the estate came to the door. 'Whot is it the
n?' he asked gruffly.

  'I John Darby of Stamford, Lincolnshire county. I lost me 'orse and was robbed. I am withoot food or lodging. Will you 'elp me?'

  The Lord of the house looked out into the fog as though he were looking for someone. ''ow do I know that whot you tell me is true and that you are nay a common beggar? You luk like a common beggar. Luk at your filthy clothes and 'oles in your boots.'

  'I am a merchant of the Staple of Calais and was on me way back from France when I was robbed. Please gud sir, I am 'ungry and tired.'

  Again the man looked out into the fog. ''ow do I know that you and your friends will nay rob me?'

  'I 'ave no friends,' replied John urgently. 'I 'ave nuthing.'

  'Aye, you are a beggar,' shouted the lord of the estate. 'Off with you, before I release the dogs.' He then yelled for his servant to get the dogs.

  John turned and ran as best he could with his blistered feet and ragged boots. He hadn't gone far when he could hear the barking of dogs. He considered climbing a tree, but decided instead to run through the herd of deer to cause them commotion, hoping that it would throw the dogs off his scent. He could hear the dogs stop barking momentarily as they searched for his trail. Soon they started barking again and he knew that they were coming. He ran down a sloping hill of grass and at the bottom was a creek. The dogs wouldn't be able to follow his scent in the water so, despite the coldness, he ran in the creek as far as he dared. He had entered a thickly wooded area that would keep the dogs from running along the bank of the creek and thus slow them down. He nearly ran headlong into a low hanging branch of an oak tree that appeared suddenly out of the fog. The tree stood near the bank of the creek. Lifting himself out of the water and into the tree, he climbed as high as he could and sat on a limb.

  Soon the dogs passed by the base of the tree searching the ground for his scent without success. He waited for a long time after they were gone before he dared climb out of the tree. He was so cold from the water that he could not feel his numb feet. His trousers were soaked to the knees and his cloak was also wet on the bottom. At times, he thought that he would lose his grip on the branches due to his frozen fingers. Slowly, he made his way down out of the tree and retraced his steps along the creek. He soon came to the road and hurried north, away from the estate.

  The fog had lifted, but it would be dark before long and it appeared that John would spend another hungry and cold night out in the elements. With the fog lifted, John noticed in the lengthening shadows that the field he was passing was full of ripened corn. Gratefully, he hobbled to the field and picked an ear and hurriedly removed the outside leaves. He devoured the corn rapidly and picked another and another until he is hunger was satisfied. It was only then that he realized that it may have been the first time that he had taken something that was not his own. He then thought of a poor farmer who had 'borrowed' a chicken and the harshness with which he had dealt with him.

  In the twilight he could see a barn beyond the field of corn and he was drawn to it despite the possibility of dogs. The barn didn't have any animals in it, but contained large amounts of straw. John was surprised at his own excitement at the prospect of sleeping in a bed of straw. It would be a soft bed and warmer than being outside.

  He slept well and rose before daylight so that he could be on the road before being seen. When he tried to put his boots on, his feet were swollen and he could not manage it. Walking barefoot was not a good option, but he thought of a solution. Using his knife, he cut off the lower section of his cloak and tied it to his feet. He admitted to himself that he now looked like a beggar, but the cloth felt much better than the boots had. He carried the boots with him, hoping that his feet would feel better in a few days.

  Passing through the field again, he picked some ears for breakfast and saved some for lunch, but by dinner time, he was very hungry and fatigued. After spending another cold night in a wooded area, he continued his walk. When he passed a stream that day, he was surprised by the image that was projected back at himself in the water. His hair was unkempt and whiskers were covering his face. He looked down at his clothing and saw a tattered cloak and ragged cloth where there should be shoes. He wasn't sure that he recognized himself and wondered whether he would trust someone that looked that way.

  He saw that he was nearing a village and determined that he would ask some peasants for help, perhaps he would have more success. Near the village, just outside the woods, stood a small stone cottage with a thatched roof. The road that John was on passed close to the door of the cottage. As he approached the cottage, he thought of Easton-on-the-hill and the cottage of the Eastons. The thought took him back to when he was a boy and times were more simple. For the first time in days, a slight smile crossed his lips as he thought of the fun games that he had played with Richard and Geva at their cottage. Those days seemed so long ago and a lifetime away. It was a wistful thought as he for the first time regretted loosing Richard and the Easton's from his life.

  John was met at the door by an old woman. She was bent with age and the labor of years was written on her face.

  'Gud dee,' John said, 'can you spare a wee amount of food. I have been walking for dees, I 'ave no muney and am very 'ungry.'

  'Where did you comb from then?' asked the old woman, 'Where are you 'eaded?'

  'I am from Stamford in Lincolnshire county. I 'ave been in Calais, boot I lost me 'orse in a fall.'

  The old woman studied John and didn't say anything. He was filthy and ragged. His heart sank at the thought of rejection again and he lowered his head and turned back toward the road.

  'Comb in then,' John heard the old woman say. 'I do nay 'ave much, boot I can add sume wat'er.'

  If the stew was watered down, John didn't notice as he shoveled in spoonful after spoonful. He thought that it was the best meal that he had eaten and it was only after his bowl was empty that he looked up to see the old woman watching him with her gray eyes. With the worst of his appetite satisfied, John was embarrassed at his rudeness.

  'May God bless you, me dear lady,' John said. 'Please excuse me rudeness.'

  'I am no lady, and you are no commoner,' replied the old lady.

  'Nay, you are a lady and todee I am commoner. I am in your debt,' said John, and he meant it. John related to her his experiences at the estates where he had asked for help.

  'Aye, they only 'elp...' She was going to say that those of higher station only help their own kind, but stopped herself short remembering that she was speaking to one of them.

  '...Their own kind, is whot you mean to say,' observed John, finishing the sentence for her. 'Aye, I agree, it is so.' John thought about his own actions and that he generally was only interested in helping those who might be of benefit to him in some way. He thought about the commoner that had taken a chicken and how he had sent him to jail. Suddenly he understood the value of a meal and what a person might do to secure one. He understood with a clarity that had alluded him his entire life.

  With less distraction from his hunger, he looked around at the humble surroundings that the old woman called home. Two chairs, a small table, a dirt floor, one pot at the fire, a small quantity of wood, a straw mattress on the floor and nothing else. John stood and walked to the fireplace and peered into the pot, it was empty. He felt a tightness in his chest and moisture in his eyes as he realized that the old woman would not be eating any of the meal that she had prepared.

  'Where will you sleep tonight?' asked the old woman.

  'I 'ave no place to sleep.'

  'It will be cold, boot you can stay in the shed.'

  That was the best offer John had received in several days and he was happy to accept. The old woman also gave him an herbal ointment for use on his blistered feet.

  'Gud lady, allow me to chop sume wood for your fire,' offered John.

  As he chopped the wood in the gathering darkness, he thought about the life that the old woman must have known. Hunger was probably not a stranger to her. He had noticed that her hands
were frail, but calloused from daily work. She must have known little leisure in her life. John had seen no indication of family. Was the woman alone? Did she have children? Who would care for her? His own mother had received plenty of care from her servants in her old age. Because of the servants, he had been required to provide little care for her himself.

  'Surely common people 'ave lit'le time to think aboot anything except securing their next meal,' he thought. Until the recent days, he had given little thought concerning his next meal. He couldn't remember ever missing a meal and assumed that others experience was the same.

  It was dark by the time that he had stacked the wood and had straightened a place in the shed to sleep. That night, before he fell asleep, he prayed in thanksgiving for the meal, the soft bed and the kindly old woman. He also prayed for Agnes' care and safety. 'Dear God,' he prayed, 'please forgive me for me arrogance and pride. Please see me through another dee and bring me 'ome safely to Agnes.'