The Remembered (24 page)

'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 then?' 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.'
The next morning John looked at his feet and they were greatly improved. The blisters were not so raw and open as they had been and his feet were not so swollen. The cloth that he had wrapped around them was worn out and so he cut off some more of his cloak and wrapped his feet.
Outside the shed, he found some more ointment and a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth. He couldn't remember ever receiving a more kind gift. He smiled and held the items close to his chest in appreciation. Then he walked to the road and headed north.
For the next several days John relied on the goodness of strangers, peasants, who had little themselves, but were willing to share what they had. His feet improved with each application of the ointment until he was able again to wear his boots.
Eventually, John was in Cambridge. He was excited because he knew that Cambridge was only a few days walk to Stamford and home. Cambridge was a busy towne and the streets were full of people. The university played an important role in the towne and there were many students among the inhabitants of the towne. John was quite familiar with Cambridge, having been there many times as a student.
As John walked through the streets, he was brush aside by people of status. He was getting accustomed to treatment such as this and it bothered him less. He turned onto a street that had been very familiar to him as a student. When he turned the corner, he ran into a group of young college men.
'Oot of me way, peasant,' one of them shouted as he pushed John to the side. The shove caused John to tumble into one of the other students. That student pushed him again and John lost his footing and fell to one knee.
'Oy, luk at 'is boots, they 'ave been nibbled on by mice,' said one of the students.
The first student picked John up by pulling on his shirt. Looking him in the eye, the student said, 'Did the mice get your tongue also, can you nay speak?' Then he pushed John back to the ground.
The group of students lost interest and moved on leaving John to pick himself up. Standing to his feet, he watched the group walking away and he was surprised at his feelings. He wasn't angry with the students and he wasn't embarrassed. Instead, he felt sorrow for them. He felt sorrow for their immaturity and also sorrow that they would likely go through their lives treating others with contempt. He mostly felt sorrow for himself though, because he saw himself in the action of the lads.
John looked at the street and directly across was a public house that he had been in many times before. Peasants had been so good to him the last several days, but he longed for the hot meal of a public house. He walked across the street an looked into the window. 'If only me 'ad a few pence,' he thought, 'I culd go inseed and enjoy a 'ot meal.
His gaze was naturally drawn toward the fire and he focused on a man sitting near to the fireplace. He looked oddly familiar to John, but why? John watched the man for a few moments. It appeared that he had just finished his meal. John wished it were himself with a fully belly from a hot meal. He turned and walked on, still wondering who the stranger was.