Echoes of a Legend

Chapter TEN: Ready for the Off

“My lady. Care to warm those hands on this lump of a man!” Ackerley De Godefroy

The green to the rear of Brother Nash’s church is extremely tidy, quiet and a affable place to relax. The grass is an immaculately fresh emerald colour that stretches from the rear entrance, for many paces, before it rolls off down to a small valley leading to the river whose waters run off towards the mill. In the distance, alongside the mill, several barns are stationed in a regimental line, full of various items from feed for the cattle to an old bell, which was taken down from the church tower whilst work was being completed on the roof, damaged by a particularly heavy rain burst in early September.

The mill is a vital aspect of any growing village and Saxmundham is no different. Inside the building, one large wheel rotates on its central pivot, moved by the rivers current, which in turn spins a central rod protruding from the one end of the pivot. Attached to the end of the rod is another wheel with notches chipped out around its circumference. These notches drive a smaller cog which revolves a large flat stone against a stationary one, grinding away the wheat, oats and barley which feed the village. The Miller works for the lord of the manor and Serf’s are obliged to use the village mill for a charge known as Banalities. Banalities were also imposed on Serf’s for other equipment use, such as the oven and the wine press which was situated in one of the barns.

In Saxmundham the Miller is also the Baker, which is not always the case, and the large oven that is situated in the nearest barn to the mill, is in full working order as it sends the sweet smell of warm ‘pope’ and ‘table’ loaves drifting on the winds towards the church.

In the middle of the churches orderly lush back garden, a single large oak tree stands ceremoniously with outstretched branches which are bare of any foliage at this time of year. At the top of the green, side by side, giving any resting body an exceptional view across the landscape and onwards toward the horizon, sit three long wooden benches, although looking slightly tired they somehow seemed in keeping with the old building. Upon one of the benches, Nash’s assistant Mary sits with her hands in her lap, waiting patiently for the Brother to return from the manor house. She knows he has some important information to give her but all he would say was, ‘gather a change of clothes and tell your family you are off for a few weeks with me on a spiritual journey.’

‘Off for a few weeks!’ She says out loud to herself, as she twists a piece of string between her fingers, ‘spiritual journey indeed!’ She is not impressed but in no position to turn down the local priest when all and sundry would know it was as good as God impressing a three week life plan on her. She rubs her hands together and blows on them; it was getting colder.

Aside from the soft placid splashes coming from inside the mill, the air is quiet and still and only broken by an overbearing stomping to her right. She looks across and waits for the culprit to emerge from around the side of the church. As they appear she is greeted by a new yet familiar face.

‘My lady. Care to warm those hands on this lump of a man!’ Ackerley says with a boisterous undertone.

‘Not today thank you. I’m saving them for an observant man, one who can spot a church right under his nose!’

Ackerley laughs at the response and leans his sword and shield against one of the benches.

She looks him up and down.

He is wearing a suit of chainmail, including helmet and iron shoes and looked like he was about to run at the enemies front line. Well running would be difficult in all that iron, but he certainly has a look of a man that would give it a good go.

‘Can I ask?-, are you not a tad overdressed for supper?’ Mary pronounces as she points her index finger and waves it up and down his attire.

‘If it was supper in the heart of Saladin’s lair?-, then no. But sadly it will take a few more weeks, even months, before we reach that particular goal, thus we will have to make do with training.’