Previous - The Vicar’s Tale Resumes (June 11-27, 1642)
Clarice Malison at the Well (July 24,1642)
I think it is Thursday. Days get a little confusing when there is no church service to mark the end of the week on Sunday. The Vicar was recalled to Carlisle almost a month ago and hasn’t been replaced. I was just starting to walk to the village well with two pails when I looked ahead, past the hawthorn near Hannah’s house and saw Laetitia Forgell in the distance, also going to the well. That would not do.
I left the pails at Hannah’s, after stopping to play with the sheepdog puppies. They are so young that I don’t think Hannah and Duncane have named them yet. Duncane is out with Frost and Fire and the sheep and Hannah is doing something with sheep cheese. I know if I ask questions I’ll end up churning butter or something, so I don’t.
I look at the door to see if Laetitia has finished at the well. She seems to have left. Even better, I see Fiona and Sussana walking their paths to the well, empty pails in hand. We all refuse to talk to Laetitia.
Fiona waves an empty pail at me, a sign she has news. That brightens the day and we all walk a little faster.
“My mother said the village council got a letter from the Bishop. It seems they have nobody they can send to replace the Vicar.” Fiona announced.
“It would not bother me if they never replace him.” Sussana replies as she sets down her pails and releases the well bucket down into the depths. “I can pray just as well without a vicar.”
“You’re just saying that because he wanted to burn you at the stake” I respond.
Fiona adds fuel to the fire. “If there was any justice in the church, Laetitia would have been punished.”
We are trying to punish her. Sussana’s family has complained. We have complained but there doesn’t seem to be any official condemnation. We seem to be left with shunning her.
I decide to go back to Fiona’s original news as we all started to pull on the windlass. “Fiona, where did your mother hear it?”
“Mrs Blexham.”
“Ah.” It didn’t take much thinking to follow the trail. Mrs Blexham was the wife of the innkeeper. The innkeeper was one of the five landowners in the village. The landowners considered themselves to be the village council. He would know, if anyone did.
After a moment, we got the well bucket up to the top, swung it over and filled Sussana’s first pail, then dropped it back into the well. Since Sussana is older than Fiona and I, she gets seniority.
I follow up. “So what is going to happen to the church? Does anyone know?”
“My mother thinks Mistress Potter will keep taking care of it, or at least will tell someone if it needs repair. It should be less work than the Vicar made her do when he was here.” Fiona responds.
“I know the village pays her to be the school teacher. Does she get paid for that as well?” asks Sussana.
Both Fiona and I shrug our shoulders. We fill Sussana’s second pail and all three of us start over again for Fiona’s pails.
“She teaches in the church, so maybe its part of the job” Sussana muses.
Fiona shrugs again, clearly deciding it was not her problem and that Mistress Potter could take care of her own affairs. After all, she is 10 years older than Fiona and I and 8 years older than Sussana.
No one says anything for awhile as we finish Fiona’s pails and start on mine. Then Fiona looks up and asks “If we don’t have a minister, are we still paying tithes?”
Sussana and I look at each other. I venture “No idea. I guess that is a question for our parents.”
The light dims a little as rain clouds move in and block the sun. I think about the number of trips to the well I make a day, look up and ask the uncaring world
“Why don’t you rain just in my pails?”
Sussana laughs and responds “and my garden”.
Fiona grimaces “I bet neither of you carry as many pails a day as I do, and I don’t carry as many as Jenefer”.
Jenefer Blexham, a few years older than Sussana, is the daughter of the innkeepers. Fiona is the daughter of the bakers. Yes, they would be using more water than Sussana and I.
I laugh. “You’re right. In your pails too.”
The rain starts and we say our temporary goodbyes. Today is just another day. Tomorrow will be another day just like it. I really don’t want exciting days like when the Vicar was threatening to burn Sussana for witchcraft. I get my wish for almost a full year.