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WRITERS EYES / ASCRIBER Uniting Writers Around The World Online Writing Group
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By
John Williams
Betrayal
'Dead, by his own hand too. True as I am standing here.' A shocked village postman cried. 'A man of the cloth, my God, what's the village coming to?'
A small crowd had gathered outside the village shop. They stood in stunned silence. The Reverent Hughes was their chapel minister, nothing like this had ever happened before.
'I saw him only last night; I thought he was a little strange,' the postman continued, ' he shouted "Gethsemane, Gethsemane." on top of his voice. He didn't have his round collar on - I knew it was serious. His poor wife, shaking she was. They say those were his very last words.'
'Two deaths, one yesterday and another today.' An old woman muttered, in hushed tones, 'there's bound to be a third, on to whose house will the death Owl come next I wonder?'
'Looking for work? The pay is six shillings a week and keep. It's out door work. What's your name?' The farmer asked, giving her no time to answer. She gulped, opened her mouth as if to speak. Getting no response and thinking it unimportant, he said,
'Never mind I'll call you Maggie.'
Regurgitated from the work-house, uncared for, cold, tired and alone she kept her meagre belongings in an old hessian sack which at times she wrapped around her weary shoulders against the cold. She stood seemingly unaware of her surroundings; her eyes were dull and expressionless as she stared deep into the nothingness of her expectations. Her feet, clad in worn- out discarded boots stuffed with rags, spoke volumes, while she, a casualty of the harsh age was silent and uncomplaining. Driven by some inexplicable atavistic urge to survive, she had come to the Hiring Fair in the hope of a job before capitulating to the call of the great void and disappear forever without casting even a shadow on the world.
He felt her arms, then opened her coat and looked at her thin sinewy body; he guessed she was used to hard work. He did not mind her squint, or her hair shorn in a workhouse crop, she was being hired to work, and for six shillings a week and keep, he intended to have his money's worth.
'I'll try you for a season, to see what your like, its hard work mind.' Pushing a shilling into her hand to indicate she was hired, he pointed out to her his pony and trap which would take to her new job.
'Make sure your here at three o'clock,' and went on his way to the nearest tavern.
She stared at her shilling piece, it slowly dawned on her she now had a job. She held the coin tightly as if her life depended on it then wrapped it carefully in an old rag and put it in her pocket. A job, money, food and a roof over her head for the coming winter, she felt elated as she sat on a low wall near the trap to wait, her hunger forgotten.
At three o'clock the farmer returned and with a wave of his hand indicated to her to get into the trap. He untied the pony from the hitching rail, took the reigns and began the journey home.
'Where did you work last season?
She shook her head; she could not remember where she last worked.
'Been in the workhouse long then?'
She nodded; it seemed the only thing to do.
'You're used to work then, they know how to work their people.'
-
They had been travelling for about an hour when he turned to her and said, 'Not
far to go now, have you had anything to eat?'
She shook her head.
They turned down a farm lane, and came in sight of the house and buildings that was to be her place of work for the next six months. It was no different to the many places she had been placed during her short life. Hard work and poor food awaited her. On arrival, unmoved by what she saw, she picked up her sack of belongings and followed him.
He led her, up the stone steps to the loft above the grain store. Indicating to a pile of straw in the corner he said,
'You sleep here, I'll get you something to eat.' and left to attend to the pony. A little later he and his wife came bringing bowl of cold mashed potatoes, mixed with butter milk, two thick slices of bread without butter which they placed on an upturned wooden box.
'If you get cold during the night use the sacks from that pile there,' his wife said. 'Breakfast at seven sharp' as she moved towards the loft door.
Maggie finished her meal, looked around the old loft, and then fetched sacks from the pile to settle for the night ahead.
'Does your new maid attend a place of worship? The minister inquired. He was sitting at the table laden with food which had been prepared for the occasion. 'I haven't seen her in chapel.'
'Perhaps you can persuade her to attend, Mr Hughes, we have mentioned chapel to her.'
'I'll have a word with her, I'm sure she will listen to a man of the Cloth. After tea perhaps,' he said, smiling, as he contemplated the feast placed before him. 'The sooner she is brought to the Fold the better.'
Above the grain store, he pushed the loft door open. She was sitting on her upturned box, the old sheep dog by her side, she stared bewildered at the unexpected visitor, and said nothing.
For a moment he stood there, unsure of what to say, he bared his teeth, a smile, and then asked, 'Have you attended chapel at any time?
She shook her head.
'Have you heard of the Lord Jesus Christ?' She shook her head; she had no idea where his farm was.
'Come' he said, approaching her, 'let's kneel together in prayer, and ask for the Lords guidance and blessing.'
Kneeling facing each other in the straw he took her hands, opened his mouth to tell her of his Chapel and his Lord. He stopped; he looked, and saw a woman. As the Sow knows her time and the Boar his way he fell upon her grunting, as he ushered her into the Fold. He stood up, panting, while he adjusted his clothing, and carefully brushed the straw from his prayer suit. Salivating profusely he drew the back of his hand across his open mouth and screeched.
'Whore of Babylon, you placed temptation before the Lord's servant. Seek forgiveness in prayer,' agitated he rushed out and left her.
She pulled a sack over her nakedness, stared with unseeing eyes and wept. The old sheep dog nestled beside her; he pushed his nose into her hand in sympathy with another of Gods' abused creatures.
In a while they both fell into a troubled sleep.
'This is how we found her Doctor, she was late for breakfast so we went to call her, and found her dead. No relatives, she's from the Workhouse you know. We have sent for the police and the minister also, he'll want to know with the burial and things. '
The police arranged for the body to be moved after a brief discussion with the doctor.
'Death from natural causes,' Doctor Jones said, and wrote "Convulsions of the heart." on the death certificate as he did on all death certificates.
The Reverend Hughes arrived, and was ushered into the parlour.
'What's happened, I only spoke to her yesterday afternoon?'
'Died in her sleep Mr Hughes, her heart - the doctor said, quite a shock it's been, good worker too. We'll miss her.'
'I'm sure,' his mind was in turmoil.' Heart you said? Well Doctor Jones knows his business, I daresay. Poor girl, just as I was getting her to attend chapel as well.
'Speaking of chapel Mr Hughes, we found this tin on the window ledge where she kept her wages. There is twenty nine shillings in it, what do you think we should do? She has no relatives. And as, you say, she was going to attend chapel and all, perhaps we should donate this to the chapel ministry. In her name of course, it will look good too for all concerned.'
He nodded and swiftly pocketed the money. Casting his eyes down in reverence he said,
'I'll go to the loft and say a few words, you know, quietly.'
He entered the loft and looked at the pile of straw. His secret was safe. Through the half open wooden slats of the window the weak rays of the morning sun came to rest on the small gold cross he lost, the one he usually wore in his lapel. Accusingly, the cross rested on an old rag, he picked them up, placed the cross back in his lapel, curious about the old rag he carefully undid the knot. Like the Ring of Amasis, the lost shilling given her in the Hiring Fair was found. He pocketed the coin with her wages. Looking around to make certain there was no further incriminating evidence he saw the old sheep dog lying on her sackcloth. The dog snarled.
He made to move away, suddenly he felt transfixed to the spot, he felt cold, in utter panic he tried to escape. Deep from the gloom the silence was elbowed aside by a voice saying,
'Now you too have thirty pieces of silver. Thirty pieces of silver.'
Frightened, he turned to look; an ethereal glow appeared above the pile of straw – he screamed. Too late, far too late for him, he saw the 'Light.'
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