From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 57, The Hearing

This is episode fifty-seven of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD.

If you would like to purchase, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback. 

The Hearing

Tom followed the constable. They entered the great hall. Murmuring rippled through the crowd. The peasants’ gallery remained quiet, yet they rustled nervously. 

The constable pointed to a spot about ten feet in front of the dais. “Kneel, and stand at the order of the earl.”

Tom knelt with his head bowed and waited for the earl’s order. Murmuring broke out. 

“Stand,” the earl said. 

On each side of the earl, two guards dressed in red and black uniforms stood stolidly. They held lances stiff-armed to their side. The lances had metal tips. Below the tips hung the earl’s family coat of arms. 

The earl slouched on his throne. He was a stout, blubbery man. He wore a purple velvet chaperon trimmed in gold and a red robe trimmed in gold. A green and yellow silk jacket and trousers fit tightly beneath the robe. He breathed heavily from fleshy, wide-spread nostrils. His beard was well-trimmed and glistened. 

“You are the suitor, correct?” the earl said.

“Yes, my lord,” Tom said.

The earl looked to his left. He flicked his hand at the priest. “Let him swear.” 

The priest in a brown hooded robe approached Tom. He held a cross close to Tom. “Place your right hand on this holy relic and swear by it.”

Tom placed his hand on the cross. “I swear by God Almighty that the testimony I am about to give is what I believe to be true, so help me God.” He removed his hand from the cross. And the priest stepped away. 

The earl leaned forward and smirked. “State who you are, your rank, and from where you hail.”

“Your lordship, my name is Thomas Bales. I am a free man. I am not from Northumberland. I hail from a small village of no account, far south of here. I have recently served in the service of our king in Normandy as a courier. I have in my possession a passport with the king's seal to verify who I am.”

Tom reached inside his jacket and pulled out a rolled parchment. He held it out to the earl. “This is my passport for your inspection, my lordship.”

A long-faced man next to the earl stepped forward and grabbed the rolled parchment. He handed it to the earl. The earl unrolled it and read it. He handed it to the long-faced man. He examined it and returned it to Tom.

“A king’s passport,” the earl said. “Are you close to the king?”

“He knows me only by my service,” Tom said, “nothing else.”

“You may now proceed with your complaint,” the earl sneered. 

“First of all, and most importantly, I wish to express how it is beyond any honor that I could ever imagine that I am here before you today. Your wisdom and sense of justice are renowned in all the land.” 

“That pleased my ear,” the earl smiled. “Proceed.”

Tom smiled politely, and his face slowly converted to a more serious demeanor. “I do not take lightly what I am about to utter. Because it is before God and Your Lordship, a regal and just man, that I am about to speak. I believe the Nobleman, Drake Bouchard, with malice and murderous intent, goaded my kindred fellow, Geoffrey Bales, into a sword fight in this great hall. And I believe that Drake Bouchard deceived Your Lordship in pertinent facts. Drake Bouchard, to humiliate Geoffrey Bales and his wife Lattice, ravished Lattice, the wife of Geoffrey Bales. Geoffrey sought satisfaction for Bouchard’s dastardly deed in this court. Geoffrey, being ignorant of the proceedings and with no one available to give him counsel, brought the matter to this court. Unaware that such a charge to a noble can only be settled by the sword, he unwittingly came to this court expecting to be heard fairly. Bouchard is known as an expert swordsman—a master. Even a skilled swordsman could not compete with Bouchard. Bouchard’s actions were no less than murder. Bales, a farmer and peasant wool merchant, could never have prevailed. He was a mere lamb led to slaughter. As for the violation of Bales’ wife, Bales was hoping for the outcome that would force Bouchard to confess. All Geoffrey Bales had was hope. Bouchard had experience, skill, cunning, and a procurator’s knowledge of the law and courts. I rest, Your Lordship.”

“What satisfaction do you seek if judgment is rendered to your advantage?” The earl asked.

“If Bouchard does not confess his dastardly deeds,” Tom said. “I petition the court that we will settle the matter with swords.”

“Bouchard!” The earl called. “I have been informed you wish to bring charges and refute any claims lodged.”

“I do, Your Lordship.” Bouchard stepped from the gallery of the nobles.

“Speak freely without swearing,” the earl said. “A nobleman’s word is his sacrosanct.”

Bouchard confidently strolled a few feet to the side of Tom. 

“Thank you, Your Lordship,” Bouchard said arrogantly, lifting his chin. “The man who just spoke before you, not more than two days ago, entered my property without permission. He was asked to leave and was only permitted to return if invited. At that time, he began to level a volley of insults directed at your noble servant. These vile words were before my servants and tenants. It is well established that no one in thought or voice should speak ill of nobility. It is a crime dealt with by the severest of punishments. He continued to bear false accusations against me concerning the woman, Lattice, wife of Thomas Bales.”

“Stop,” the earl held up his hand and turned to Tom. “Bales, is this all true, or do you wish to bring forth witnesses to refute what Bouchard claims?”

“Of all things Bouchard, in the past, has imagined and exaggerated, this testimony is true in every detail and word.”

“I see,” the earl said, “allow me to confer with my advisors before sentencing.”

“Your Lordship,” Bouchard interrupted.

“Yes, Bouchard,” the earl lifted his head in a gesture of attentiveness.

“This man came here for the purpose of settling this dispute by striking swords. If it pleases Your Lordship, I beg Your Lordship, he not be bothered with any further deliberation. Allow Bales and I to settle it in the fashion he has prescribed.”

The earl turned to his right and looked at his advisor. The advisor nodded almost imperceptibly.  

“Swords it will be!” The earl called out as if celebrating. “Do my subjects find agreement with such an arrangement?”

The nobility applauded and nodded to one another approvingly. “Here, here,” they all shouted. 

The peasants' gallery remained silent. 

Lattice and Thomas confidently glanced at one another, yet anxiety paralyzed them.

“One last assurance,” the earl said. “Is this agreeable to both of you?”

Tom nodded solemnly. 

Bouchard smirked at Tom and turned to the earl, smiling politely. “Your Lordship, this is most satisfactory.”

The earl chuckled. “I want more than satisfaction, I want to be entertained.”

“No man has ever insulted me as this man has,” Bouchard said. “It will stand as a warning for all the peasants from hence.”

“And when I prevail,” Tom said, “you will be known as long as your name is uttered as a villain, violenter compressit, leogere, murderer, hedge-born, churl.”

The royal spectators gasped. Tittering erupted among the peasants. 

“Enough!” The earl said, and the great hall fell silent.

“Squire Wesley!” The earl called out.

“Yes, My Lordship,” a boy’s teenage voice replied.

“Fetch the dueling swords,” the earl said. 

A squire bolted from among six younger squires standing around the throne. The patter of his steps smacked against the stone floor and echoed off the stone walls. He made his way through the nobles in the colonnade, and the echo followed him until a door opened and closed.

The noble subjects whispered and waited for the return of the squire with the dueling swords. 

  

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 56, A Lesson In Pain

  This is episode fifty-six of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD. If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137 AD, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback. 

A Lesson In Pain

   One by one, each man exited the room to have his case heard by the earl’s court. Laughter from the great hall seeped through the crack between the door and floor.

The constable summoned the last man to appear before the earl, before Tom. 

Tom could not hear how the cases were being presented, but as with the others, the muffled sounds of intermittent uproarious laughter continued.  

Tom spoke telepathically. ‘MAS, make certain my reflexes will be greater than the swiftness of Bouchard’s sword.’

Brain replied telepathically. ‘All systems are set for peak performance against Bouchard.’

‘I am nervous,” Tom said.

‘There is no need to be,’ Brain said.

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘Understandable,’ Brain said, ‘I have no nervous system.’ 

‘I’m concerned about the aftermath,’ Tom said. ‘Sometimes the results we desire and expect are not the ones we get. This may turn out to be bad for Lattice and Thomas.’

‘There is a beauty in being wrong and being able to adjust to make events turn out better than originally expected,’ Brain said. ‘Many of the poets and philosophers have been considered recently. They have provided a wealth of insight into the human emotional and intellectual condition.’

The constable stepped in. 

“Nature calls for the earl,” the constable said. “He must visit the gong.” 

“I wish him well,” Tom joked.

“Tom,” the constable said, “I have seen to it that Lattice and Thomas will be the chandeliers during today’s court. They will have a better view than the earl.”

“Why?” Tom asked.

“As I told Lattice and Thomas, not long ago, I have never seen a man move so quickly, grip so tightly, look so invincible as you. And I should know. In my younger days, I fought on bloody battlefields and have the scars to prove my days of glory. I have looked into the eyes of men full of fire and will, but none such as yours.”

“How is your wrist?” Tom asked to divert attention from his prowess. 

“It throbs with pain,” the constable said.

“You don’t show it,” Tom said.

“In my day, I have had to endure much pain on many occasions,” the constable said.

‘Brain,’ Tom said telepathically, ‘produce something to ease the constable’s pain without making him drowsy.’

‘Count to ten and check your money pouch,’ Brain said.

Tom counted and reached into his money pouch. He removed a white pill.

A bucket of water with a ladle sat on a bench across from Tom. He scooped a ladleful of water. He handed it to the constable along with the pill. “Swallow this along with the water. The pain will go away.”

“What is it?” The constable examined the pill in his hand.

“It is a medicine that will take away your pain,” Tom said. 

“I don’t know why I trust you,” the constable said. “You lied to me about the rabbit.”

The constable tossed the pill in his mouth and washed it down with the water. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Tom said. 

“It still hurts,” the constable said.

“Walk out and see if the earl has finished his time on the gong,” Tom said. “And by the time you return, the pain will be gone.”

He walked out of the room. It gave Tom a few moments for quiet reflection. 

The constable returned. “The earl is on his way back to the throne.”

“The pain?” Tom inquired.

“What pain?” The constable grinned. 

“That’s good to hear,” Tom said.

“Why?” The constable said.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you easing my pain?” The constable asked. “Isn’t the whole idea of pain meant to make a person think long before trying to inflict pain on others in the future?”

“You, yourself, just said you have experienced much pain in your life, isn’t that so?”

“Yes,” the constable said.

“And has it caused you in any instance to lessen the pain and punishment of others?” Tom asked. “Without you answering, I would argue, it has not.” 

The constable tossed his head in agreement.

“You now know what it feels like to relieve pain,” Tom said. “So, which would you rather do, cause pain or relieve it?”

“But my job is to cause fear, and pain is often a part of it,” the constable said. 

“Did you serve your king out of fear or respect?” Tom asked. “Again, don’t answer, because I don’t think you fear any man, but you serve out of respect.”

The constable stepped outside and craned his neck to see if the earl had returned to the throne. 

He stepped back into the room. “He’s conversing and allowing the nobility to curry favor on his walk back to the throne. He really likes this part of his position. It’s all praise. He drinks down it like wine.”

“This is all sport to them, isn’t it?” Tom said. “They enjoy listening to the squabbles, transgressions, and troubles of the peasants. Somehow, the sufferings of others lessen their own suffering. They hide behind the sufferings of others, so theirs will not be noticed.”

“You are talking about me, aren’t you?” the constable said. “Never mind answering, I know the answer.”

“Follow me,” the constable said. “The earl is expecting to be entertained.”

“Wait,” Tom said. 

The constable turned to face him.

“When I looked into your eyes two nights ago, I saw a man with fear, but I also saw a very good man.”

“You are too kind,” the constable said. He walked toward the great hall, and Tom followed.  

From Here To 1137 AD; Epsiode 55, Lighting Candles

 This is episode fifty-five of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD. If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137 AD, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback. 

Lighting Candles

The bell at Whitford Castle’s tower rang ten times. It echoed over the sleepy countryside of dew and clover. It reminded everyone that the Royal Court would commence hearing cases before the ruling earl. 

Tom, Thomas, and Lattice arrived early, waiting at the main gate of the castle. As time passed, a crowd gathered there also. Nobles began to arrive, and they climbed from their carriages and horses. The commoners were pressed back by castle guards. At least one hundred nobles from the surrounding manors dressed in their finery strutted inside.

The constable appeared at the gate, his wrist bandaged. He nodded and winked at Tom. Then he called out, “All having complaints of law, come forward.”

A half dozen men fell in line at the side of the constable. Tom lined up last.

The constable called to one of the guards, “Take them to the waiting room.”

The men, along with Tom, followed the guard to a cramped, dark, dank room lit only by four sconce candles. Wooden benches lined the walls of the cramped room. The guard told them to sit.

Meanwhile, a crowd of commoners and peasants grew at the castle’s main gate. 

“Witnesses follow the guard to the witness gallery,” the constable called out.

A group of about two dozen men followed the guard.

“Guards,” the constable called out, “Take one hundred and fifty to the balcony.”

They huddled together and moved through the main gate. Several in the crowd, knowing Lattice’s and Thomas’s interest in the day’s proceedings, waved them to the front.

“You two,” the constable pointed at Thomas and Lattice, “come with me.”

A mumble of concern rippled through the crowd. 

They followed the constable.

“What are you going to do with us?” Lattice said fearfully.

“Follow me and say not another word,” the constable said gruffly. 

They followed the constable across the main courtyard. He walked through a small opening and climbed down a flight of stone steps. At the bottom of the steps, he opened a heavy oak door. On the other side of the door, a dozen or so servants, cooks, and bakers busily prepared food. It was the castle's kitchen. 

They followed the constable to a hearth against the outside wall. He grabbed two torches and handed one each to Thomas and Lattice. 

“Follow me,” the constable motioned with his head. 

They followed him through another oak door and climbed up a flight of stone steps. 

They entered the great hall of the castle. And stood at the opening. Thomas’s and Lattice’s heads swirled as they gazed with wonderment at the vastness of the great hall. 

Nobility sat in chairs in a colonnade surrounding the great hall. A balcony supported by arched cathedral pillars was positioned directly above the colonnade. The throne, rested on a dais, pressed against a wall. Shafts of dusty light shone in from openings above the balcony.

“Take the torches and light each candle in the court,” the constable said. “Stay alert during all the proceedings. If a candle goes out, hurry to it and light it again. That’s your job, understood?”

“Yes,” Lattice said.

“Yes,” Thomas said. 

The constable turned to walk back down the steps.

“Sir,” Lattice asked, “why are you doing this?”

The constable turned and faced Lattice. He hesitated, then spoke. “Last night, when Tom gripped my hand after catching it before I could strike him, I looked into his eyes, and his eyes did the same to me. I have never seen such quickness nor cast my eyes upon such a deadly gaze. I knew at that moment, Bouchard had met his match. I want you to see closely, your reputation restored and vengeance due your husband.” He tossed his head toward the nobility sitting and tittering to one another in their seats. “I’m a commoner. They are not my kind.” 

Unexpectedly, Lattice leaned to the side and forward. “I’m sick,” she said.

The constable grabbed her and held her steady.

“This is where my husband lost his life for my honor,” Lattice said with her face about to let go of a torrent of tears. “It is hard to look upon.”

The constable grabbed her shoulders and said, “No matter what you think of me, if not for the care of my family, I would have gladly taken your husband’s place. Now, you be strong.”

Her lip quivered, and she forced a smile. “I will.”

The constable winked, nodded, and hurried through the doorway and back down the steps.

“Are you strong enough for this?” Thomas asked. “If we leave now, no one would be the wiser.”

“It is the constable’s duty to make certain someone is employed to light the candles,” Lattice said. “If they are not lit, the constable will be severely punished. He will lose his position. As corrupt as he is, it is better to have him as a constable than one who has no compassion or no family.”

Thomas and Lattice, with flaming torches, walked briskly into the great hall. They lit the wall-mounted candelabras hanging at each arched pillar, and the sconces on each side of the pillars. Two candelabras stood at each side of the throne, and they lit them. 

They returned to the doorway where they started. They appeared out of breath, but nervousness seemed to be the reason for the heavy breathing.

“I’d rather plow a field,” Thomas whispered to Lattice.

“I’d rather grind grain,” Lattice whispered to Thomas. 

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 54, Truth and Love

 This is episode fifty-four of the novel, From Here To 1137 AD. If you would like to purchase From  Here To 1137 AD, it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or paperback. 

Truth And Love

The next day, the oxen were hitched, and another day of plowing ensued. Thomas continued to teach Tom the finer points of plowing by oxen. It created hearty laughter and memorable moments.

In a strange way, although Tom was three years older than Thomas at present, Tom felt younger than Thomas. He viewed him as older and wiser. At times, Tom tried to present himself as the older and more experienced, but it seemed unnatural. Whether it was because of the knowledge of an eight-hundred-year difference in civilizations or something genetically instinctive, he simply did not know.

Lattice brought bread and cheese to the field. Thomas stopped the oxen, and they sat beneath an oak tree that marked the boundary between the Bales’ farm and their neighbor’s farm. They talked and ate. The oxen rested.

The cheese was hard, and Thomas shaved it with his knife and passed the shavings to Lattice and Tom. 

“If you defeat Bouchard, will you return to your home?” Lattice asked.

“I will return to my home,” Tom assured. “Bouchard will not defeat me.”

“Where is home?” Lattice asked.

“It is far, far from here,” Tom said. “It is so far away that the name would mean nothing to you.”

“What is its name if it means nothing?” Lattice urged.

“It’s called Ohio.”

“That is a strange name,” Lattice said. “I never heard of it.”

Tom smiled. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“You are a curious fellow,” Lattice said. “I’ve never met you before, but I feel as if I know you.”

“I feel the same way about you and Thomas,” Tom said. 

“If you were here when Geoffrey was alive, you two would have been good friends—just like you and Thomas.”

“I am sure we would have been,” Tom said.

“There is something I am curious about,” Tom said. 

“What is that?” Lattice asked.

“Where I am from, the custom is for the woman to change her surname when she marries a man,” Tom said. “And she takes her husband’s surname.”

“My father was known as James Shepherd, and I’m known as Lattice Shepherd, wife of Geoffrey Bales.”

Tom again gazed into the open countryside. He thought, ‘From this generation to mine, the genetic similarities between Gene Francis and me are greater than Lattice and Tom is to me, yet there is something beyond genetic matching that draws me close to them. It can’t be measured, defined, or seen. It’s just there. Their memory I will carry eight hundred years into the future. But they will remain planted solidly and deep into my heart as if they are walking every step alongside me.’

Thomas interrupted Tom’s thinking. “I will finish when I am at that stake. That is about three furlongs.” Thomas pointed to a stake in the ground a short distance away. “And you rest, Tom. Tomorrow is a big day.”

“Yes,” Lattice said, “Help me back to the house with the cheese, bread, and mugs.”

They gathered the uneaten cheese and bread. They swallowed the last of the ale. Tom and Lattice walked toward the house.

“What is it you wish to speak to me about?” Tom asked. “You really don’t need help carrying these things.”

“I want you to leave,” Lattice said regretfully. “You are confident, but Bouchard is trained. I haven’t noticed you doing anything to prepare for a sword fight. You don’t even possess a sword. When Geoffrey fought Bouchard, he prepared for a month. I pleaded with him every day not to fight Bouchard. He was certain also. I cannot bear to see another man die for my honor. Everyone knows what really happened; that’s honor enough for me.”

“Thomas was willing,” Tom said. 

“I had him talked out of it,” Lattice said. “I asked him who was going to care for me if he were dead?”

“And you were as close to death as anyone, two days ago,” Tom said. “If you had died, Thomas would have picked up the sword.”

“Please,” Lattice pleaded, “leave in the night. Follow the road north and take the next road west. In a day, you will be beyond the realm of Bouchard and Whitford Castle.”

“You know it is in vain you are speaking.”

They reached the door, and Tom held it open for Lattice. They walked in.

“Sit,” Lattice said, gesturing kindly to the table.

Tom sat, and Lattice sat across the table from him.

“I feel there is much I don’t understand about you,” Lattice said. “You say you are related to Geoffrey, and you are from the south. I am from the South. I have never heard of you. Geoffrey never mentioned anyone in his family named Tom.”

“I told you all that I know,” Tom said.

“There is something else,” Lattice said. “You say you are related to Geoffrey and his family, but something is troubling.”

“What is that?” Tom asked.

“I feel we, you and I, are related,” Lattice said.

“Indeed,” Tom said, “that is troubling and difficult to explain.” Tom looked around as if trying to find something to change the conversation.

“The troubling thing is that I feel as though you may be a son,” Lattice said. “I was sixteen when Thomas was born. I had no man before Geoffrey. And if you are nineteen, as you claim, that would have made me twelve or thirteen when you were conceived.” She smiled broadly. “And I know that didn’t happen.”

“Sometimes people have feelings. And they are misread,” Tom said.

“Can you tell when a person hides the truth from you?” Lattice asked.

“You mean lie?” Tom said.

“I suppose,” Lattice said, “but that’s your word and not mine.”

“Sometimes people say things that are not true to protect those they love,” Tom said. “I have been raised to believe that truth is the most valuable thing there is. Only from truth is understanding. Truth and love are the soil and the crop. The crop can only grow if the soil is good and nourished. Love grows on nourished truth.”

“Your own words betray you,” Lattice said. “Thomas knows who you are. I can tell. I vaguely recall you putting something on my chest while I was near death. It was something not from this world. You are not from this world, but you are a part of me in some sort of way I can’t explain.” 

“I made Thomas swear not to tell anything he knows about me, other than what is already known by everyone,” Tom said. “He is a man of his word. I will set him free from his promise, but only to you.”

“I want to hear it from your lips,” Lattice said.

“I have violated the trust handed to me on two occasions,” Tom said. “It has only been to those I trust and love. I cannot conceive that the promise I made was absolute. Explanations are needed, especially to the ones I love and who love you.”

“Do I demand too much from you?” Lattice said.

“Never.” Tom reached across the table and patted her hand. “Have you ever desired that someday you will hold a grandchild?”

“Yes,” Lattice smiled.

“And,” Tom asked, “holding a great-grandchild would be that much more meaningful, but less likely to happen?”

“Yes,” Lattice’s smile slowly faded.

“What if you could live long enough to see a grandchild ten generations into the future?” Tom said.

Lattice chuckled. “That is foolish to ponder. I’ve never thought about such a prospect until now. And even now, it cannot be imagined.”

“I, Tom Bales, am a thirty-third-generation grandson of you.”

Lattice smiled as if she were about to entertain a drunk man’s ramblings. 

“The truth is,” Tom said, “I come from afar: from a land not yet known to people who live here in England today. And I am from a time 800 years in the future.”

Lattice looked away for a moment. 

Tom waited for a reaction. He wondered what thoughts might be rushing through her mind. What element of 1137 AD could she latch onto that might help her grasp the concept just presented to her? He began to wonder if he had overstepped the realm of reason with her. He wondered if he should have ignored her demand to hear it from him and leave it to Thomas. Likely, he, being more familiar, could have gained greater confidence and trust.

Lattice turned back to Tom. She reached across the table and placed her hand gently on his. She leaned slightly forward and looked into his eyes. “You are telling me the truth. I cannot pretend to understand what you have told me, but I know it is the truth.”