I was sitting in the village inn, at one of the plank tables with my oldest son Henry, my wife Rachel and Husbandman Donne Cullane and his wife Cicilia. The room was crowded, most of the village seemed to be in attendance.

We were at the inn because Hume Valcar had taken a gaggle of women up into the hills to ’meet the neighbor’. At least that’s what Gilbert Blexham, the innkeeper, had told us. The ’neighbor’ in this case is supposedly whatever demon or hillside spirit the Vicar had tried twice to exorcise. He tried once just before getting recalled, then came back and tried again two weeks ago. He failed both times. According to Gilbert, who was with the Vicar up in the hills the second time, the spirit just said it just wanted to be a good neighbor and laughed at the Vicar’s attempts to get rid of it. Hume had brought them all back a couple of hours ago, so half the village was here tonight to hear the story.

I looked around carefully. No one from outside the village was here.

“It’s an ill wind that blows no one any good.” I said, chasing the last bit of stew in my bowl with a bit of bread. “We used to paid our tithe to the Vicar here. Then that idiot made that witchcraft accusation last year and got recalled by the Bishop to Carlisle. With the Vicar gone, we had to pay the tithe to the Bishop. The Vicar came back three weeks ago, so that should have changed where we had to pay the tithe; we shouldn’t have to send it to Carlisle.”

My son Henry said, “But now the Vicar’s died of fever. So the tithe goes back to Carlisle again.”

“Yes, but the Bishop has declared for the King. Suppose the Roundheads besiege Carlisle. If we send the tithe at harvest to Carlisle, it will just be throwing it away. The Roundheads will confiscate it. Better we sell it south and keep the money. With any luck, we will be completely forgotten in all the political nonsense for years.”

My wife Rachel said thoughtfully, “So, worst case, we hold the money until the winner comes for it. Best case, the records get lost in the fighting and we keep the money. And we are more likely to be ‘forgotten’ if no one in the village sends a tithe to Carlisle to remind anyone.”

“Exactly. Now, assuming the ghost or whatever wants to be a good neighbor, we don’t want anyone tattling outside the village and drawing attention to us. Any attention and someone is going to ask about the tithe. So Andrew, you make sure that all the older lads know - no talking to outsiders about ghost stories. Rachel, you and Cicilia make sure all the women know it too. I’ll handle the men. Donnan, you good with that?”

“Yes. War might be the best harvest we’ve had in years.” Donnan replied.

I snickered, then called Gilbert’s daughter Jenefer over and asked for another ale. She nodded yes and turned to go. Henry’s hand dropped and patted her behind. She spun around in one step, slapped his hand hard enough to make him to wince, and continued walking to the bar. We all laughed.

Donne said, “Henry, Jenefer’s been slapping hands since she was twelve. Are you a slow learner?” Henry shook his head and rubbed his wrist.

I started to call after her to ask where Hume was, when the outside door opened and Hume walked in. The talk in the room fell silent, everyone watching and waiting for the story.

He beckoned to Gilbert and asked for an ale, then looked at the room and asked

“Has anyone seen Rawson?”

Someone, I didn’t see who, replied, “He and his son were working at their forge a few minutes ago when I walked past.”

Hume grunted, walked up to the bar and faced the room.

“You’re all here for news.”

“Yes!” came a cry from several voices.

“There is some kind of spirit in the hills. The Vicar, may he rest in peace, was mistaken thinking it was evil. If it had been evil, the Vicar’s exorcism would have worked. But since it isn’t evil, an exorcism can’t drive it away. Gilbert and I told you that two weeks ago.”

That started up hubbub in the room til Hume raised his hand, then it quieted down again.

“It’s a spirit that is bound to the hills, so it can’t come to the village. Because it isn’t evil, I took some women from the village, including my wife, up to meet with it at the Standing Stones today. The spirit is invisible, but it does talk and is willing to talk to us. It agreed to be a good neighbor and leave us, our children and animals and crops alone. In return, we agreed to leave it alone. If someone from the village tries to pull down the Stones, it might get annoyed, then the hills wouldn’t be safe.”

He continued, “Rawson and his son also went up there today with cold iron in case it was Fae. You’ll have to ask them what they talked about with the spirit. They’re back, so just more proof that we don’t have anything to fear, so long as we treat it like a neighbor.”

“Did it kill the Vicar?” called someone.

Hume rolled his eyes. “No, it didn’t kill the Vicar. The Vicar died of fever. He had that fever before he went up to face it the last time. Ruderfurd and I both felt the heat on his skin.”

Gilbert’s wife Marion had quietly appeared near the bar and spoke up. “It said it likes music, even church hymns. Nothing evil would be willing to listen to church hymns.” She had been one of the women who went up the hill with Hume. The other three, Cait Rede, Mathilda Potter and Lucy Valcar stood with her.

That started another hubbub in the room.

I decided it was time I, as the Yeoman with the largest farm, took a hand in things, so I stood up and rapped on the table. The room again quieted down. I looked around to make sure that there were no outsiders in the room.

“I think it is clear that the hillside spirit means no harm and the Vicar’s constant attempts to exorcise it did not turn it against us here. However, it should also be clear to everyone that we don’t want outsiders prying into our affairs, and that includes that we know about the hillside spirit. We don’t need witch hunters prowling around.”

There were general murmurs of agreement around the room.

“I want all of you to make sure your families know - no talking to outsiders about the spirit or any ghost stories.”

Again, murmurs of agreement.

I spotted Geoffrey Gaynesford, another of the four Yeoman of the village, across the room. “Geoffrey, a moment of your time.” He nodded to the others at his table, stood up and came over to us. Rachel nodded to Cicilia, excused herself and stood up, motioning across to Sarah Gaynesford that they meet with Marion on the other side of the room. Cicilia followed.

I opened, “I think we should have a discussion about the tithe, and, for that matter, the rent that many in the village pay to the Church.”

“Oh? The Vicar’s dead, so it goes to the Bishop.”

“Have you heard the latest news from Carlisle? They’re declaring for the crown. That will draw Parliament’s army. Or Scotland’s.”

“You think if there is a siege the Bishop will be distracted and forget us?”

“We can’t send the tithe through a siege.”

“So, if there’s a siege we sit on the crop?”

“No, I’m suggesting we sell it south. If anyone later comes asking, we can pay them the proceeds. If no one comes asking because the village is forgotten in the politics, well …” I smiled. He smiled back.

I stood up. “First things first. Siege or no siege, the village won’t be forgotten by the Bishopric if anyone talks outside the village about our neighbor. We need to control that right now.”

“Agreed. But until there is a siege, we still have to sell to the Bishop. And even if there is a siege, there’s no certainty we will be forgotten. But I like the possibility.”

“Yes. I’ll start with this side, you start with that side. Remember who you’ve talked to because tomorrow we’ll have to talk to anyone who wasn’t here. Shall we?”

Geoffrey laughed, “We shall.”

We shook hands and started the campaign.

Next - Women’s Meeting (July 25, 1643)

Return to Index