Mates

By: Will B
(© 2009 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

In August 1647 plague swept through the village and Manor of Longleaf. Ed and Henry were left orphans. The two sixteen-year-olds had each other for consolation and love.

Chapter 8
September 1647

Gradually the people of Longleaf began to accept their terrible losses and to rebuild their lives. Events of the outside world made little impression on the struggling inhabitants. Edward Robinson, now Lord of the Manor, did what he could to help and encourage the people on the Manor.

As Lord of the Manor, he had the right to appoint a new clergyman for the church. His cousin George Robinson suggested that Ed might want to meet Robert Hanson, a twenty-two-year-old graduate of Oxford University and newly ordained in holy orders. Cousin George thought he might, just might, be a good man for the job.

Accordingly, on October 1^st, young Reverend Robert Hanson arrived at the Manor to meet with Edward. Ed saw a young man of some five-feet-nine inches in height, curly brown hair, and blue eyes who dismounted from his horse with easy grace. Robert saw a fifteen-year-old youth of some five-feet-six-inches who had a friendly smile on his face.

“Reverend Hanson, welcome to Longleaf Manor,” Ed said. “This is my friend, Henry Thompson. His father was Steward of the Manor to my father, and now that my father has …, has… (Ed mentally squared his shoulders and went on)… my father has died, and I am the Lord of the Manor, and Henry’s father has died, he is my Steward, and my good friend. Welcome to Longleaf.”

“Your cousin George has told me of the terrible toll the plague has taken. I know you are still grieving, and all I can say is, you, both of you, will get through this… Thank you for inviting me to meet with you,” the young guest replied.

“Come in, and refresh yourself,” Edward said. “We will have some food, and then we will discuss business.”

Ed, Henry, and Robert went into the Manor and found that Alf and Giles, acting as cook and butler, had prepared a simple but delicious meal of roast chicken, potatoes and peas. There was ale to drink and a fruit tart to follow.

“Alf and Giles, please set places for yourselves and join us,” Ed invited the two men who were not only retainers, but friends, as well.

It was the custom of the time for grace to be said after the meal, and when the five had finished, Reverend Hanson stood and gave thanks. “Oh, Lord, we thank you for this bountiful meal. Bless those who prepared it, and those who partook of it. We ask you to send your balm of peace to those who are grieving, and ..., Dear Lord, we ask you to watch over and protect our King. In His name we ask it. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone replied.

Then, keeping a perfectly straight face, Ed asked the young priest, “Are you a King’s man, sir?”

“I am, and proud to say so,” Robert Hanson said.

“In that case, I think I would like to offer you the living* of Longleaf parish church, if you will accept,” Edward said.

“Thank you, Master Robinson. Do you think we might walk down to the Church to see it?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea,” replied Ed.

As the young minister, Ed, and Henry walked down to the church, many villagers were out in front of their houses to catch a glimpse of the man who might become their spiritual leader. The older villagers thought he looked nice enough, but were thinking he ‘would probably never replace their beloved Reverend Poole.’

Younger villagers thought they would like to hear what he had to say, and wondered if he would take part in many of the village games, like ‘Kick-the-Ball.’

Catherine Pratt, a twenty-three-year-old lass with black hair and hazel eyes, barely looked at him. Robert Hanson noticed her, however, and asked Ed why she looked so downcast.

“She is grieving for her parents who had died in the plague, and for her betrothed, who was killed when some of the village men went to fight for the King,” Ed told him.

The young clergyman didn’t say anything but just looked thoughtful.

The three got to the church and opened the door. The church smelt a little musty because it hadn’t been used in several weeks. Hanson walked down the aisle and went up into the pulpit, where he looked out over the empty church—empty save for Ed and Henry, who sat in the Robinson pew.

Robert came down out of the pulpit and joined the two young lads in the pew. “It’s a beautiful church,” he said. “I hope I can serve the people of this parish as they deserve.”

Ed smiled at him, and said, “Sir, I think you’ll do very well as our parish priest.”

Accordingly two weeks later, the Bishop and two clergy from neighboring parishes came to install Robert Hanson as the new Vicar. Everyone in the village and a few visitors came to hear the first sermon.

Reverend Robert spoke briefly, but sincerely of his desire to serve God and the people of Longleaf. He touched on the tragedies of the losses in warfare and in the plague. He told them that it was all right to mourn, but he spoke of how God wanted them to remember the dead in their hearts, but to keep their head and their hands for the living.

Somehow his words brought some comfort to his hearers, and many of the older parishioners nodded their heads in agreement and thought that maybe, just maybe, ‘he would do!’

Catherine Pratt listened and noticed that the new pastor had a kind face.

After the service, Ed had invited the entire group that was assembled to come to an outdoor feast at the Manor House. The Manor folk had prepared a delicious meal. There wasn’t a lot of food, but all of the villagers had brought some food from their own meager stores to welcome the new minister.

After the meal, Robert Hanson circulated among the crowd. When the Bishop and the visiting clergy had departed, Alf and Giles and some of the villagers helped with the clearing away.

As the months went on Reverend Hanson showed himself to be just the kind of pastor the people wanted. He listened to the older people talk of their problems with sympathy, and often offered some practical advice. As time permitted, he joined the youths in their games. He worked to restart the village school that Reverend Poole had run.

His Sunday services were always well attended. Occasionally Sir Henry and Dame Jane Rawlings would come from Rawlings Manor to hear him preach and then have a meal with Edward Robinson.

In November 1647 the people of Longleaf were happy to hear that King Charles had escaped imprisonment from Holdenby House in Northamptonshire and had gone to Carisbrooke Castle on the Isle of Wight.

They were not so happy that Parliament was ruling the country, passing ever increasingly repressive measures to make sure that people lived their lives the way that the Puritans were convinced that God would want them to live.  This usually translated into laws against the pleasures that gave people so much enjoyment.

In late summer of 1648 the villagers were harvesting the wheat. They needed to be sure that there was enough wheat to grind into flour, and enough to provide fodder for the animals. One sultry day towards the end of August, Edward and Henry woke up to see massive thunderhead clouds forming. Surely there would be a storm before long.

As they had done every day for the past week, they quickly put on leggings and shoes and went out to help harvest the wheat. Everyone in the village—men, women and children--were out with scythes, sickles and pitchforks, to cut the wheat and toss it into carts that would take the precious crop to shelter.

Catherine Pratt was there with the others, wielding a pitchfork as well as any man, when she suddenly gave a cry of pain and went down on one knee. She had stepped into a gopher hole, and twisted her ankle. ‘Damn!’ she thought to herself. ‘How will I be able to harvest this wheat?’

“Let me help you, Mistress Pratt,” said a man who appeared beside her. Cathy looked up and there stood Reverend Hanson, clad only in leggings and shoes, reaching to help her up. Catherine noticed his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He just had a thin smattering of hair on his chest, and small brown nipples. His waist tapered narrowly…and Catherine found her eyes looking at his chest and his waist, and then at….

‘Oh, my. OH MY! What am I thinking?’ Catherine thought. ‘He looks like…. St. George in the stained glass window.’ Aloud, she said, “Thank you, Reverend Sir, if you could just help me up….”

Hanson did more than that. He easily picked her up, took her to a log at the edge of the field, where he gently sat her down, and then took her pitchfork and went to the help the villagers finish the harvest.

Just as the last cartload of wheat was trundled into the barn, the storm broke. The rain poured down. Lightning zig-zagged across the sky and thunder boomed loud enough to rattle the windows of the Manor House. Nobody cared. They were elated that the wheat had been saved.

Robert Hanson strode out into the rain and went back to the log, picked up Catherine Pratt and carried her back to her house. They both were drenched but neither one cared.

As he carried Catherine, Robert saw a young woman who had suffered great loss, but who was trying to overcome her grief. He felt a warmth in his heart, and elsewhere, as he carried this attractive young woman to her house. Catherine felt…. oh, she felt gratitude, of course, but something else, something she hadn’t felt for a long time.

As the couple reached Catherine’s house, the rain ceased and the clouds rolled back. The setting sun cast its rays over the countryside, bathing the fields, the woods, the houses, and the people in a warm light.

“I’m feeling much better, Reverend Hanson. Thank you for everything you’ve done, You can put me down…. Uh, you can put me down now.” Catherine said, thinking that she really didn’t want to be put down, but to be…. Oh! what was she thinking of?

As if coming out of a daze, Robert realized he was still holding Catherine. He put her down gently to see if she could stand. He looked at her and… he looked at her and… he looked… and SNEEZED!

“Do you get yourself home and into some dry clothes,” Catherine ordered.

“Yes, mistress. Yes, I will, if you’re sure you’re all right,” Robert said, smiling sheepishly.

Catherine went into her house, looked into her larder, and found what she was looking for and put a pot of water on the fire to boil.

Robert went to his house, and as he entered he thought how much the house needed… needed…needed something. He wasn’t sure what it needed, but the little house, which had always been so comfortable, lacked … lacked something. He wasn’t sure what.

Later that evening, dressed in dry clothes, the young Pastor was seated at his table, working on Sunday’s sermon, when there was a knock at the door.

Robert was surprised—very pleasantly surprised—to see Catherine standing there with a pot from which came a delicious aroma.

“Oh, Catherine. Come in, come in! What brings you out this evening? Please excuse the disorder. I was just….,” Robert was suddenly at a loss for words.

“I thought I would…,” Catherine began, now also at a loss for words. “I brought you some chicken soup. I wouldn’t want you to catch cold after being out in all that rain.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much. That was very thoughtful of you…Er, is there enough for two? Would you please join me? I think I have some apples and cheese…er, if you are not busy…” Robert’s voice trailed off.

“Why, yes, I would be happy to join you. As a matter of fact, I wanted to talk to you about the village school.  I had an idea…,” Catherine said.

The two young people sat and ate chicken soup and pared apples and cut cheese and talked. Robert was impressed with Catherine’s grasp of the important things of life.

“…So, you see, Reverend Hanson, I was thinking that if you are going to start a village school for the boys, perhaps I could have a similar school for the girls. I think it’s just as important for women to be able to read and write and cipher…. Oh, please don’t laugh at me.”

“Catherine, I’m not laughing at you, I am smiling at the idea of how… how delightful it would be to work with you on a school for the young people. I certainly think it would be a good thing.”

“Robert, what would the people of the village think if…?”

“Catherine, I think they would be very happy. Of course, we couldn’t have school during lambing, calving or harvest season…”

“I know, I know, I thought maybe three days a week…,” Catherine said.

 They both stood up and Robert reached across the table. “Let’s shake on it!” he said.

An urge came over Robert and almost without thinking, he took Catherine’s hand and pulled her towards him and pulled her into an embrace. He looked at her and said….”Thank you so much, for the soup and for everything!”

Catherine looked up at him and smiled and said … nothing. Nothing had to be said, the two had reached a level of understanding that made words unnecessary.

Later that night Robert Hanson had trouble sleeping. He thought of a young girl with black hair and hazel eyes,  a wonderful smile and an understanding heart.

Catherine Pratt also had trouble sleeping. No longer did she think of her dead fiancé, or her family lost in the plague. She thought of a man with broad shoulders and strong arms who wanted to do so much for the people of Longleaf, and who wanted her to help him.

At the Manor, Alf and Giles had made love. Alf said, “Giles, I want to be the cow and I want you to be the bull. Mount me, invade me. I want you.” Giles was only too happy to oblige.

Edward and Henry had a mutually satisfying session of sampling, savoring, and swallowing each other’s man-seed.

As they fell asleep in each other’s arms, they were unaware of a rider, galloping hell bent for leather through the night, headed for Longleaf Manor.

To be Continued...

* A position as vicar, rector, or priest in the Anglican Church.

Ed’s Comment:   What a nice love story that we have in this chapter.  I’m worried about the galloping rider though.   

Posted: 03/20/09