The Two Confessions by John Whitbourn (good books to read for adults .TXT) 📕

more at harvest time, and most of 'emas poor as Protestants. I'll recount to you the Welcombe families thatmatter... and if you get the cod-itch there's Joanna Polway or Morwenna Zennwho'll oblige you for next to nothing…. Father McGlashan, he's not so bad but'e's a stickler; you daren't confess one half the truth to him or you'dpray a hole in your breeches 'fore penance was done.'

 

'This'll take corn, but it's stubborn like. A wise husbander will leaveit sweet-meadow and graze it to death before a fallow time.'

 

'Course the Cornish still raid over the border. Their friends theWelshies are not above joining in on occasion either. Why else do you reckonplaces round here are still fortified and barred up? You won't find that upcountry; people there can make their homes all comfortable like. And it's'cause the Cornish get up to their tricks that you've got the demi-demonproblems biding roundabouts. Those vermin love places as ain't safe or tamed:it's easier for 'em to hide and get their meat there. I tell yer, if it weren'tfor the sodjers permanent in Bideford and their horse patrols, this land wouldbe worse than Cumbria. It's one-hand ploughing up there they say.

Do we raid back? Course we do. Sometimes it’s unofficial; a fewlads after the inn's chucked out. Other days the Governor at Bideford proclaimsthe Posse Comitatus and we get paid for lending our horses. Men from East Devoncome to help. Me? Oh yeah, I've bin on a couple of 'trips over' as we call 'em.It’s more or less expected of a young blade; it shows his mettle for themarrying stakes. Bit long in the tooth now but I've showed the Trevan flag inmy time, don’t you worry. Best day was when it were eye-for-an-eye for a manorhouse over Woolfardisworthy way. I shot a yeoman type point blank, and then hadhis wife upstairs 'fore we fired the lot. Typical Kernow girl she were:buttermilk skin and black natural ringlets - above and below, if you take memeaning. Lord, but I gave 'er a lapful….'

 

'Morwenstow's safe enough. They'll trade and talk with you there. It'sthe traditional truce spot....'

 

'Glastonbury? I've heard of 'er. Somerset way ain't she? I don't know somuch about those parts. No one does.'

 

'And mind extra careful when you're walking in this portion round here.It's dotted with the old miners' shafts. Some say they're bottomless but I don'tsee how that can be. There's standing water in 'em and water don't stay wherethere's no base. That's my experience. Either way, go down one and that's theend of yer.'

 

Samuelhad listened to and absorbed everything else without judging. It was necessaryhe learn about the landscape he was chained to. The natives presumably knewbest. But this last, almost throwaway, snippet, he rebelled against.

‘Mines?’he boggled aloud. ‘No, I don't think so.’

Hiscousin was unconcerned. Things which weren't useable, edible, drinkable orswivable didn't feature greatly in his thoughts. They weren't on his land: solong as he didn't trip over them, that sufficed.

‘Well,what else then?’ he asked, growing daring. ‘Giant rabbits? No, people say theywas mines.’

Samuelrepented of his open outbreak of disbelief. Despite all that had happened tohim, his inner gaze had never ceased to search the landscape for advantage.Therein lay the only path back.

Sohe said no more. But to himself he thought 'well, I reckon people saywrong....'

U[U[U[U[U[U[U

cHAPTER 17

'My dearest Melissa

I am well. I hope you are likewise. You are always in my thoughts -except when I am at business. No, on reflection, even then, for what else areall my struggles and conspiring but the means to regain you? Accordingly, Ifind that you are never out of mind, one way or the other.

I have not heard from you. I have no way to tell if Father Omar deliversmy letters. It may be that you cannot reply. I will understand if you havegiven an undertaking to your father not to correspond. If, however, you arefree in honour to write, I ask that you do so. Even one word - or a sign -would cheer me. It is dispiriting to labour alone in a hostile world.'

Samuelpaused and brushed away the frantic crane-flies drawn to his candle. He wasn'tsure about that last line. Were the sentiments too craven? Would a woman respecta man who - occasionally - faltered? Chewing the end of the ink-stick, hethought on and decided to let the phrase stand. What he'd written was thetruth, and Melissa would get nothing else but that from him.

'My so-called family are no more hospitable than before; nor ever likelyto be. They are an inward looking and clenched fist crowd and we are well shotof them. One deigned - after hard bargaining - to show me the districtyesterday. I learnt one or two things of interest.

I have registered my presence in these parts, as required, in thenearest place of any consequence: an Abbey in a secluded place called Hartland,which is north of here. They have been entrusted with my 'case'. Every SaturdayI must travel there to report my doings and swear I have commenced noenterprise nor employed any person. In return I receive my 'pension'. You see,I am become a gentleman of leisure now. The sum is more than adequate for asimple life and I shall accumulate respectable savings. It pleases me to bankthe un-needed portion with the very people who dole it out.

However, it is a long walk to Hartland, and steep going besides, so Imay soon take mercy on my blisters and buy a horse.

The whispering old monk-cum-clerk that I see tries to tempt me to theirevening Mass, which would fulfil the Sunday obligation. I do not succumb. Hethinks me a neo-Druid, of which there are no shortage round here.

This is a stark place, not like Sussex. The Law is far away and enemiesclose at hand. Across the water, in Wales, there are the Irish plantations, andtheir troubles spill over. The Red Dragon fighters hide and train here, so it'ssaid. And every man with a boat bigger than a coracle turns pirate if money'stight. Thus, people pray on their knees and prey on their neighbours. That