The Remembered

by Lorenzo, EH

  At the Darby estate, John was preparing to go to Stamford when he saw Ralf approaching the house. He thought that was very unusual and waited for his approach.

  'Gud dee, Lord Darby.'

  'Gud dee, Ralf,' John responded.

  'I 'ave comb with sad news that me thought you and Lady Darby shuld know.'

  'Aye, and whot is the sad news then? Did Margaret 'ave the baby? Is the baby fine?' asked John.

  'Aye, Margaret 'ad the baby and 'e is a fine lad,' replied Ralf. 'Boot, Margaret did nay fair so well.' Ralf looked at the ground and seemed that he would not continue.

  'Margaret? Whot 'appened?'

  Ralf continued looking at the ground and said, 'She is deed, Lord Darby. There was bleeding and she is deed.'

  'Oh, I am so soory. Where is Richard? 'ow is 'e?'

  'Richard is still at the cot'age. The baby is with a wet nurse. I thought you shuld know.'

  'I am grateful to you. God speed,' replied John.

  John returned into the house and told Agnes what Ralf had told him. Agnes started to cry when she heard that Margaret had died.

  'Whot will Richard do for the child? 'e can nay take care of a child,' she said.

  'I do nay know, me luv.'

  'You must go to Richard and see 'ow 'e is doing and offer 'elp for the child. We can 'ave the child 'ere and bring in a wet nurse,' Agnes asserted.

  'Aye, I will go right away. Will you nay comb with me? I do nay know whot to say to Richard.'

  'Aye, I will go with you, boot nay on a 'orse. 'ave the servants ready the coach. We may need to bring the child 'ome,' replied Agnes.

  It was mid-morning when Richard heard a tap on the door and greeted John and Agnes.

  John searched for the right words, but in the end only said, 'I am so soory, Richard.' That seemed enough.

  Agnes stepped forward and said, 'Richard, we both feel 'orrible and so sad. We know that God will care for 'er though.'

  'Aye,' said Richard. 'I am grateful to you.'

  Agnes continued, 'We will 'elp with the cost of the burial and John will let you delay work on the church for a few dees.'

  Richard only nodded and John agreed.

  'Your fine sone needs sumeone to care for 'im until you can make other arrangements,' said Agnes. 'If you agree, we will be 'appy to 'ire a wet nurse and 'e can be at our 'ome as long as is needed.'

  Richard looked up at Agnes and John with tears in his eyes. 'I 'ave nay even thought aboot the care of me sone. I do nay even 'ave a name for 'im.'

  'You do nay 'ave to decide either right away,' offered John.

  'Nay, 'e dose need care and I can nay give it,' Richard said. 'I wuld be grateful if 'e culd be at your 'ome until I can make other arrangements.'

  'We wuld be pleased,' Agnes assured him.

  Margaret was buried the next day on the grounds of the All Saints' Church. James saw to it that she was buried in a sunny spot on the south side. John helped Richard to place the dirt in the grave and Richard stayed at the graveside long after they had finished. Eventually, he went to his cottage and didn't leave the rest of the day. Geva stopped by the next day and found Richard still sitting in the cold house.

  Richard looked up when she entered, but didn't say anything and put his head back on his knees.

  'Richard, you 'ave nay eaten a thing, 'ave you,' she said to him after she had looked about the room and finding everything as it had been when she last saw him.

  Richard didn't look up, but replied, 'I am nay 'ungry, Geva.'

  'I do nay believe you. You must eat. Do you wish to join Mar...?' then she stopped herself.

  Richard looked up at her. He wanted to respond that yes, he did want to join Margaret, but remained silent.

  'You 'ave a fine new sone to care for, Richard. You must carry on. That is whot Margaret wuld wish.'

  'Aye,' replied Richard. 'Tomorrow I will go back to the church.'

  'Gud, boot you must eat sumething todee. I will send Ralf with sume food.'

  Geva left the cottage, but sent Ralf back in the late afternoon with the food for Richard.

  The next day, John stopped by the All Saints' Church to check on progress and to check on Richard. He and Agnes had been surprised that Richard had not come to see the baby and they were concerned. When John didn't find Richard at the church, it added to his concern. It appeared also that there had been no progress on the windows for several days. John hurried to Richard's cottage and when he didn't get a response at the door, he let himself in. He was shocked to find Richard sitting on the floor in the dark.

  'Richard,' John said, but there was no movement. John walked over to Richard and shook him gently. 'Richard, are you well?' he asked.

  Richard slowly raised his head. John was surprised at his appearance. He looked as though he hadn't eaten or slept in several days and facial hair was covering his normally clean face.

  'Richard, you are nay well. You must eat.'

  Richard looked at John with hollow eyes and didn't respond right away. When he did, he simply asked, ''ow can I go on withoot Margaret?'

  'Richard, I am going to fetch Father James. 'ere, eat this bread while I am gone.' With that, John handed him some bread that Geva had sent and he left to get James at the Saint Leonard's Priory.

  John returned to the cottage a couple of hours later with James. They were pleased to discover Richard sitting at the table eating some of the bread. They both sat at the table with him.

  'Richard, it is gud to see you eating,' said James. 'I am certain that Margaret wuld be 'appy to see you up. I 'ope to provide encouragement to you.'

  'Aye Father, boot it is so 'ard. I miss Margaret so much.'

  'Of course you miss 'er,' replied James. 'You wuld nay be a man if you did nay miss 'er. You need time to mourn 'er lose.'

  'I 'ave lost members of me family before and it 'urts very much,' said Richard.

  'And 'ow did you get past the 'urt then?' asked James.

  'It was a long time ago,' replied Richard. 'Losing Margaret 'as brought back the feelings that I 'ad then. I was yung and I suppose that I did nay allow meself time to mourn properly. I lost sumeone very dear to me then, and now I feel that 'urt as well as the 'urt of losing Margaret.'

  James looked at John. He had only known Richard for a short while and didn't know who Richard was referring to. John shrugged his shoulders slightly. He had lost touch with Richard while away at school and didn't know who Richard might be referring to either.

  'Richard, the living need to live,' said James. 'You will see Margaret again.'

  With that, Richard looked straight at James for the first time as though to encourage him to continue. James looked nervously at John, he wasn't certain how the two men were going to react to what he was about to tell Richard. James then related to Richard the things that he had learned regarding the writings of Paul and Peter.

  Richard's countenance lighten considerably as James spoke. 'I can be with me Margaret again after I dee?' he asked with enthusiasm.

  'Aye,' James replied, 'I believe so, if you follow The Lord.'

  'I 'ave never 'eard a priest teach soch a thing,' said Richard.

  'Nor 'ave I,' John interjected.

  James continued to explain the things regarding the need for a prophet, a falling away from truth and a future return to truth and authority. All of which he said that he was learning from the writings of Paul.

  'Sumedee,' said James, 'I believe that God will make 'is will known and there will be a prophet to guide us in these mat'ers. There will be a way for you to be with Margaret and you, John, with Agnes.'

  'Do you 'ave license to teach these things, then?' asked John.

  'From the Church? Nay. Boot from the 'oly Spirit? Aye.'

  Richard stood up from the table and walked to the fireplace. 'I will be with me Margaret sumedee,' he said mostly to himself. He turned back to the other two men and said, 'Praise be to God! I am so grateful to you, Father. Surely, this is God's will.'

  Richard walked
back to the table and continued, 'The pain of lose still 'urts, boot I can go on. I will return to work on the church tomorrow.'

  After John and James were outside, John said to James, 'This is a strange thing that you teach, boot I am greatly in favor of the doctrine.'

  'I believe it to be so, John,' replied James. 'I shuld nay tell others, boot I can 'ardly 'elp meself. I am so excited aboot it.'

  'Well, regardless, it 'as Richard back on 'is feet.'

  The next day, Richard was back at the church working on the windows again and he greeted James with a smile when James arrived.

  'I 'ave enjoyed working 'ere todee, Father. I feel close to Margaret 'ere,' Richard said to James as he greeted him.

  'Praise be to God,' offered James. 'And the work progresses,' he added with a smile.

  At the Darby estate, Agnes and John were caring for Richard's son as their own. Richard started visiting nearly every day. He was there so often that John suggested that he live in one of the many extra rooms, but Richard politely declined. He said that he wanted to be near to Margaret.

  After several days, Agnes suggested that the child needed a name.

  'Whot will you call this fine lad, Richard. The boy needs a name,' said Agnes.

  Richard was holding the lad at the time and John was nearby. Richard looked at John and then looked at his son. 'His name is John,' he said.

  John and Agnes looked at each other and smiled. 'John is a fine name,' replied Agnes. John smiled and agreed.

  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 b
eside 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.'