Godfrey sat contemplating the moon as it progressed through the heavens. He could hear a dog barking in the distance; one by one, more and more dogs began to bark; it was getting nearer to him – was someone about? Could it be a rabid dog running through the village? – that would be most dangerous for him, held fast by his ankles. He'd heard of men in stocks devoured by packs of wild dogs. A quiet panic fell upon him as he considered such a fate.
In the early hours, he thought he could imagine a figure moving between the trees across the village green. A dream? A waking vision? Mary, Mother of God? ...It was a person; indeed a woman – as she walked onto the grass, he could see it was a nun, heading towards him. The dogs were barking louder than ever; it must have been this nun that set them off.
The nun, barefooted and wimpled, as befitting a Discalced Carmelite sister, approached carrying a small wooden bucket .
“In God's Holiest Name, I come bearing succour unto the imprisoned, unto those scorned...” she whispered, and began to pray over him. With a damp rag she wiped away the excrement and filth from his face and clothing. Then, she gave him some bread to eat and let him drink his fill of water from the bucket.
“I have been punished with reason,” admitted Godfrey. “I am given to rages; I am not a good man.”
She looked upon him with pity. “You have shown contrition; pray now to the Lord to grant you forgiveness.” “I am unable to bring my hands together,” he replied. “The Lord will hear your prayer even as you are. Remember Jesus always has a place for the lost sheep, the prodigal sons, the repentant sinners.
Godfrey bowed his head and began to pray as best as he could remember, for he was not at heart a religious man.
“Are you married?” “No, good madam. I would wish my rages upon no woman. Besides, I am known about these parts as a man who cannot keep his temper – I have been in the stocks before for such sinning.”
“Have you confessed your sins?” she asked.
“The priest says I am taken over by the Devil when the rage overcomes me. Prithee, I cannot pray for forgiveness when I am not in charge of myself! Are these my sins? Why should I be held to account for what I do when the Devil takes me over?”
The nun looked at Godfrey with sadness; shaking her head, unable to reply to his questions. She gave him another long drink of water, stood up and bid him farewell. Finally, she made a sign of the Cross and blessing him, made her way back to the Abbey for morning prayers.
“Will you return to me?” he called after her with a hint of desperation in his voice. In the distance he thought he could make out her nodding, but he was unsure.
Another whole day and another night in the stocks, he thought. He'd be let out on Sunday morning, after High Mass.
On the eastern horizon, the late summer sun began to lighten the sky; cockerels heralded the approaching day. Time wore on at a tediously slow pace. The first people began to go about their daily business in the village, mostly ignoring Godfrey. He knew from experience that once they'd done most of their work, they'd pay more heed to the man in the stocks. It was not long afterwards that a rider galloped across the green towards the manor house. Soon there was much commotion around the building. Before long, a crowd of armed men had gathered before it; the squire, mounted and in full armour, rode out, with a retinue of horsemen and footsoldiers following him with banners waving high, and much shouting.
The armed procession approached the stocks. The squire, from his horse, spoke to Godfrey: “The Duke of Gloucester is moving against Warwick. We must stop him before he reaches Northampton. You served me well at Edgecote Moor. You fought like the very Devil himself. I need all the best men to fight with me. I shall release you from the stocks to fight alongside me - rage once again, Godfrey!
This time last year:
In search of happiness
This time two years ago:
Missionaries and mercenaries
This time three years ago:
Spectacular sunrise
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