Crackling Fire
Imagine rolling hills going on for miles and mile without an interruption of a tarmac road or a sound of an engine. All you can hear is the wind swishing through the trees and birds chirping and twittering. The only civilisation nearby is a small village set into the hills. Usually, the village of Fulking would be quiet and tranquil, with the local people going on with their business. However, their loss in the Peasants Revolt had them angry and stirred...
JANE- The Night Before
I sat in the rocking chair beside the fire with my knees tucked underneath my chin. I watched the crackling fire flare up and spit of orange flecks of wood. It was a rare treat to have a fire. Coal was expensive and Fathers back was too bad to chop wood. The whole family was gathered around the fire, but we were all silent, even Harold who was always lively and crashing about. But today we were all quiet.
Father had just got back from a village meeting. There had been a lot of village meetings, discussing Fulkings part in the Peasants Revolt. Father ordinarily came back from these councils angry and ready to keep on debating with the family. But from this village meeting he came back low and depressed.
However, I guessed this was going to be one of the last. The last few weeks had been.... tough, to say the least. I could see the toll it was taking on Mother and Father. Lots of people had been killed, or taken away by King Richards’s men. Fulking had given up-like many of the other peasant towns. We weren't going to fight for a better life. We were lesser beings; we didn't deserve any better.
Fathers had told me all about the situation. I was the oldest of the children and I had demanded to know what was going on. I could see the pain of Fathers face whilst telling me the situation.
"After the Black Death" he shuddered, "Many manors, and land lords were short of workers. To keep us farmers and cleaners left working they bribed us with more freedom and money to work". I hadn't been alive during the Black Death but I heard many stories of it. Horrid stories. Father carried on, "35 years later, we were scared that these privileges were going to be taken away from us. And we were prepared to fight for 'em."
However, that didn't seem like a big enough reason for millions of people to revolt.
So I asked Father, " Is that it?" He smiled his grin and shook his head.
" No, dear, that ain't it" he carried on telling me about how the war with France had cost a lot of money, and that money had been coming through our taxes. Just the year before, King Richard II had introduced a new tax, called the Poll Tax. It made any of us peasants on the tax list pay 5p! 5 whole p! Earlier this year, we had also decided that we had had enough of this too. Well, 5p is a lot of money!
Wait, there is still more. Peasants were also being forced to work on Church's for nothing, maybe even for 2 days every week! This meant that they could not work on their own land, which made it difficult to grow enough food for their families. The whole scheme was making the church rich, and them poor. A priest called John Ball agreed that we should be ridden of this burden.
" And all of these things added up made us peasants angry and feeling very hard done by. And that's why we started the Revolt" Father finished. That was at the beginning of 1381. A lot has happened since then...
Basically, they went to talk to the King, he said they could have what they wanted, but they still went and killed the Archbishop and the Treasurer, so the Lord Mayor of London told the King to meet them again and at this meeting he killed Wat Tyler, the leader of the rebel peasants. The King promised they would get what they want and they all went home.
The future seemed bright for the peasants. More money, more freedom, a better quality of life. Yes, the future seemed bright...
We are now in the summer of 1381. John Ball is dead, hung for preaching against the Church during the Rebellion. The King sent out troops to invade villages and town, which were involved with the revolt, and killed many of the people and burned their crops. He took back his promises, stating that since they were under threat when they made them, so they were not valid.
Of course, it wasn't all in vain. The Poll Tax was withdrawn and many (remaining) men were given freedom. But overall, we were crushed, defeated and small in number. We were struggling to survive, and our spirits were down. You could say we had hit rock bottom.
And that's why me leaving for London was considered a big break. I was to become a nun- to worship a God, which I do not believe in. Why would I want to worship someone who has brought so much misery and pain to us humans? I could never say these things out loud. Mother would be outraged- the idea of Heaven and God are one of the few things that are keeping her going through these hard times.
I shouldn't feel resentful towards my parents- they were only sending me away to get a better, easier life. But I wasn't sure if it was going to be easier without them and the rest of my family.
Anyhow, I suppose I should be excited- I'm leaving tomorrow at dawn! It will only be a few days until I start my new life as a holy woman.
I sigh and close my eyes to the crackling fire, and inhaled the smoky, welcoming smell of my house- I was going to miss it....
JANE - Leaving For London
Father and me got up early to start packing the blacksmiths cart. The air was crisp and cold- the sun had barely come out yet. My and Father's breathing was the only thing that disturbed the silent morning. Father and Mr. Smith were on friendly terms, and Mr. smith had offered to lend me his cart on the way to London. His son, Theo, would be leading the cart on his horse. However, he would only be taking me there. Theo was dark, tall and strong. His father was training him to become a blacksmith, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. Theo tended to keep thing to himself, and even though we usually pass each other during the day, I don't think I've ever had a proper two-way conversation with him.
Theo and Mr. Smith were both also helping us pack the cart. We were given loads of food- enough to last us a week, even though the journey would only take us a few days! We had vegetables, meat and fruit- they were delicacies in these hard times.
The sun had fully come out by the time we were done, and the village was already up and running. Mother had come out to say goodbye. She was crying and kept on hugging me, saying, "We'll see each other again" and "I love you".
Father was less hysterical, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes. My siblings stopped their games for a minute to say goodbye.
I embraced my parents in turn then hopped on the cart. I observed the village, and its life for the last time.
I sat in the cart amongst the bags of food and hay. Theo was riding the horse, which was pulling the cart, but he was very quiet. He had never been a talkative person.
Great, I thought, couldn't I get stuck with someone who will at least give me some company?
I sighed and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, and let the warm sun shine on me. I hadn't got much sleep last night, and the clip clopping of the horse’s hooves were quite soothing....
JANE- The Evening
I woke to a night sky and a flaring heat by my side. At first, I panicked. Was our hut on fire?
Wait, where was I? Then I looked around and saw the little cart beside the fire. Then remembered where I was. I sat up and looked for Theo, but all I could see was a dark hunched shadow through the fire. I could hear a sharp scratching sound.
"Theo?" I called cautiously. I heard a grunt in reply. My hearts pace slowed.
" Where are we?" I sighed, getting my breath back after the dramatic wake up.
"We're just north of Nutfield, coming up to Merstham." He mumbled, in a low voice. Oh, I thought we'd be nearer than that. Father had explained the journey to me before we had set off.
" Have you had anything to eat?" I asked, wandering over to the cart.
"No" the swift reply was. I bent over the edge of the cart and started rummaging through the basket of apples. I picked two up and a pint of milk. I threw one apple at Theo, who caught it expertly. I walked over to Theo, whilst swigging some milk, and sat down beside him. We watched the fire crackling and sparking, eating our apples. It was quite awkward, just sitting there, so I tried to start a conversation.
" So... What’s been going on with you?" I felt bizarre saying such a normal thing, in such a strange situation.
Theo just grunted, and gulped down some milk. That was rude. Theo was reserved, but he certainly was never rude.
" What’s wrong?" I asked, curiously.
" Why do you care?" He suddenly yelled at me, standing up, "I'm doing you a favour taking you to London, so stop bothering me!" he marched off to his horse, which was standing by the cart.
I was shocked, angry and hurt. All I had done was asked him what was wrong! In fact, I felt more than hurt, his sudden outburst had stung me, and my eyes prickled tears. My heart heaved, and felt as if someone had squeezed it so hard, it had burst. L I had never felt that feeling before, I wondered where it came from. I sulked off to my hale bale and lay down. I was bored, and homesick. I could never get to sleep, especially with Theo's reaction on my mind. I lay there for hours. Theo returned to his bale after a while, and carried of sharpening his knife. The sound of his efforts was rhythmic and steady, long scrape after long scrape. It must have been about 4 in the morning when I fell asleep...
The rest of the Journey to London was uncomfortable, and embarrassing. Neither of us tried to start conversation, so I just sulked in the jolting cart. We didn't stop for a break, and as a result we were in London by midday.
Theo drove the cart right up to the cathedrals double doors. They were big, made out of old dark wood with a big brass bolt on the door. The lock reminded me of the commitment I was going to make to the cathedral; I was going to be stuck in this big building for the rest of my life. Theo didn’t help me get off the cart- he just sat there staring into space as I heaved myself out. I walked up to the doors, then swivelled round, to find Theo staring at me. He looked away bashfully, his cheeks reddening.
“Bye then,” he grunted, starting to whip his horse to start.
“Wait!” I called, but the horse was already trotting away. Theo looked back quickly, as I called “Goodbye!!!” but then he was trotting away through the busy market street. It felt so wrong not to be going with him- to see him going back home.
“ I should be with him,” I thought, my heart pounding, “ I need to be with him”. Tears whelmed in my eyes, blurring my vision. I let them fall down my cheek. I didn’t stand there for long; I could tell people were looking at me, and my puffy red eyes. I turned to face the big doors, with a lump blocking my throat and a weight in my stomach. It felt so surreal walking into that cathedral- I didn’t take much of its beauty in that first time. My head was light, but heavy at the same time, and my vision was still distorted by tears. I could tell it was grand with lots of gold embellishments and an impossibly tall ceiling.
Somehow, I got to see the head nun, who let me sob into her, but I don’t remember ever actually telling her why I was crying.
I remember walking through lots of corridors, until coming to my room. It’s very plain, and the mattress is hard. The head nun left me there to nap, but of course I couldn’t sleep. I couldn't understand why I how strongly I had reacted to Theo leaving me. I decided it was because he was the last person I would ever see from Fulking, and him leaving me was like the final signal that I would never see my family again. It was nothing more, I told myself. However, even 50 years on, I know that’s not true….
50 YEARS ON IN THE CATHEDRAL- JANE
I was planting tulips at the time, in the cathedral garden. My wrinkled hands worked in a repetitive way, shovel, plant, and fill in. It reminded me of the journey to the cathedral, and Theo’s constant knife sharpening. It was a warm day, and I was rather enjoying the sunshine. Sister Tiffany came over to me, and put her hand on my shoulder.
“Sister Jane”, she said, and I looked up, “ A visitor is here for you” She looked like an angel- with the sun shining like a halo around her head.
“Really? Who?” I asked, standing up and brushing the dry dirt off my white apron.
“A man… he didn’t say his name.” Sister Jane told me.
“Thank you sister, I shall go straight away.” I said, bowing my head and putting my hands together. She copied my action then walked away. I picked up my gardening tools and put them into my basket. I walked towards the back door of the big building, my old legs feeling heavy.
I walked though the long, airy corridors, whilst greeting various nuns who walked past. The cathedral had been my home for last 50 years; I knew it like the back of my hand. I came into the big atrium, where visitors waited. It was also where Theo had dropped me off, all those years ago.
The atrium was huge- and very light. I could see dust motes floating in the beams of light above me.
"Jane? Is that you?" Said a young voice. I jerked my head on the direction of the voice and saw Theo. He hadn't changed a bit- still as young and handsome as ever. Theo came over to greet me.
"Jane, that is your name isn't it?" He asked, cautiously. I nodded, be-founded by his youth; 50 years had passed... how come he hadn't aged? He smiled and told me "I'm Edward, Theo's son."
" His son?" I asked. So he wasn't Theo, he wasn't Theo at all.
"Yes, and sadly I bring you bad news." His expression changed, to a desperately sad face.
"He's not dead is he!?”? I shrieked, my heart booming. Theo couldn't be dead!
"No! Not Pa, not Theo!" He reassured me, briefly smirking at my confused face.
"Its your father, Jane, he passed away last night..." He said sadly, looking down at his feet. I gulped; a huge ball had formed in my throat. I had kind of expected it, I suppose. He had lived a long life...
"Was it peaceful?" I murmured.
"Yes, ma'am, he was asleep." Edward told me, his hand on my shoulder.
"Is there going to be a funeral?" I asked, standing up.
" Indeed, a small ceremony in the Fulking cemetery". Images of my childhood in the cemetery flocked back to me, weaving in and out of the gravestones and being scolded by my mother for doing so.
" Actually, that's why I'm here. Your mother wanted you to see you there, so she sent me to come and get you... That's if you want to come, of course." Edward said.
I nodded "I'd love to come, but I'll have to get permission form the head nun." I explained.
" Right, of course. I'll be waiting outside." Edward said, swivelling on his heels and walking out of the atrium. My heart thumped, he looked so like Theo! His brown hair reflected the light in the same way, he walked in the same way, and his skin was the same dark tan colour.
But he wasn't Theo, and this wasn't 50 years ago...
I got permission from the head nun, so Edward and I were on our way very quickly. I had such strong déjà vu on that trip back to Fulking. It was late summer, just like when Theo and me left for London, and the sun was warm. We even travelled in the same cart we had 50 years ago! Edward was more talkative than Theo, always keeping up the conversation, asking me about my time in the cathedral. I, in turn, asked him things too about himself, but inside all I really wanted to know about was Theo.
I found out that he had married Catherine, Mr. Jenkins daughter, and had 3 children. He had lived a normal life, with love and work. The life I had wished for when I was younger, but never got. Instead I was sent away to serve God. I had always accepted my life, but in that moment I was struck with immense jealousy for Theo and his.
When we arrived in Fulking, many old familiar faces greeted us. My siblings were overjoyed to see me, they probably hadn't even realised what was happening at my departure 50 years ago. I went into my old home to see my mother. She was extremely old, but still up and working- it was a miracle really. Tears sprang to both of our eyes when we saw each other.
"Jane!" She exclaimed, sitting upright in her armchair. I ran to her as fast my old legs could carry me, bending over to give her a hug.
"Oh Ma!" I said, pulling away from her. She looked so old, and fragile, but she was still the same mother I could remember.
We talked for a while, swapping stories, but she mainly let me talk. It was dark by the time for the funeral. I guided my old mother to the cemetery, which was lit with many flickering candles. The whole village was gathered there, overlooking the burial of my father. I received many sad smiles, and the crowd parted to let Mother and me pass to the front. A plain wood coffin was placed into the ground, whilst the vicar said some words. To be honest, I wasn't listening. I was focused on the fact that my father had died and that I felt as if some part of me had been ripped off and been carried away from me so quickly, I could never get it back. We all sprinkled dirt into the hole, and onto the coffin, then retreated back to our homes. Mother had been sobbing through the whole ceremony, taking in breaths so jerkily, I thought her lungs might burst through her ribs. I took her back to our hut, and sat her down in her armchair. I muttered a few words of comfort to her, and she seemed to calm.
I left her with a small fire burning in the stove, and then walked out into the village centre. It was chilly now, and the smell of burnt out candles was in the air, carried from the cemetery by the breeze. I walked with a purpose to the blacksmith workshop, with was built just off the blacksmiths house. The workshop was basically a big courtyard with big iron machines spread about. In the middle of the courtyard was a pile of glowing coals, burning brightly in the dark night. Their glow illuminated a shadowy figure, bent over. A sharp scratching sound filled the night. It almost felt like a dream- I was reliving the night Theo and me spent together between our journey so long ago.
"Theo?" I called out to the figure, walking tentatively towards it. It stood up.
" Jane" it said back, in a low, raspy voice. Theo, it was Theo! I had fantasized about this moment since he left me at the double doors all that time ago.
For the rest of that evening we just sat together on the bench, silent, but yet still communicating. The coals burnt out and I rested my head on his big shoulder. I don’t remember walking back to my hut, the last memory of that night was watching the sunrise up from behind the church, but when I woke, I was on my old straw bale, in my old hut.
I travelled back to the cathedral happy, and fulfilled. I could now live the rest of my life knowing that my love for Theo wasn’t just a one-way feeling. I know his love for me was completely different than mine for him- he had Catherine and I only had God- but that night was the happiest of my life…
The End
It would have most likely been in a jug or something similar.
But can you see what I mean? I wish I knew so much more about all of your characters, I'm sure they're all very interesting people!
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