23 March 1124

　　"Noooooo!" Joan Miller shrieked. "I won`t go!"

　　Margery looked up from her miserable bowl of gruel and struggled to keep a straight face as Arnold`s spoilt daughter performed her daily ritual. Watching Joan`s struggle with the hardships` of normal life made the tasteless gruel almost palatable.

　　"We can`t afford another night here," Joan`s mother insisted. "The landlord threatened to summon the constable."

　　"You think this backwater has a constable?" Joan cried "No! I want a roof over my head. And proper food."

　　"You think I don`t?" Arnold thundered back at her. "We lost all that when bloody Holford took my bloody mill. The world isn`t fair." He calmed himself and made his voice sickly sweet. "But I`ll find work, I promise. Then things will get better. Ok precious?"

　　Arnold`s pandering made Margery want to throw up but Joan settled down. Margery was baffled that Joan was stupid enough to buy Arnold`s same line every morning. But she did and so the ritual continued. The Miller family finished eating, packed their meagre belongings and started another day of walking.

　　The day slipped away, both fast and slow at the same time. There was no break for food - they had none - leaving Margery to ponder the time since her hasty departure.

　　It had been almost two months since Margery impulsively elected to follow the Miller family as they fled from Holford`s frenzied villagers. In the emotionally-charged aftermath of the mill fire, fear of losing Henry had loomed larger than anything. Her only true friend. She hadn`t paused to consider the consequences. But she dearly wished that she had.

　　Since then, the Millers had trudged from village to village, through the depths of winter, without a plan. Arnold had relied upon the hospitality of friends and his network of neighbouring millers but always managed to wear out their welcome.

　　His stubborn pride prompted several premature departures in their first weeks. Arnold took offence at being told that Holford`s revolt was his own doing or that there was little chance his mill would be returned. When he finally acknowledged his family`s desperation and looked for work, Arnold took offence whenever told there was nothing for him and that he should try the next village. He was deaf to his peers` voices of reason and instead decided that the world had turned against him.

　　Like his daughter, Arnold was also prone to tantrums and exploded each time word of his underhanded business practices preceded the family`s travels. His biggest outburst was at Stowey Castle the day after his eviction when Baron Walter showed little sympathy for Arnold`s situation. The Miller`s arrogance was such that he ranted at the Baron, demanding a new position and prophesising that Holford would be doomed without him.

　　Arnold`s harsh words only irked the Baron, who asked why he would need a miller stupid enough to be caught sabotaging his competition. The confrontation ended with Baron Walter telling Arnold to leave Stowey by nightfall or face his dungeon. That was the first of many nights the Millers had spent without a roof over their heads. And so began their arduous life as nomads.

　　The winter had been relentless. The Miller family were buffeted by storms as they crossed fallow fields and the bare forests provided little shelter. Margery`s teeth had chattered constantly and she worried that she might never be dry again.

　　The Millers had been forced to leave Holford in such a hurry that they were poorly equipped for life on the road. Arnold`s wife Edith had prioritised collecting her finest clothing and jewellery which did little good when stomachs rumbled in the evenings. The fool resisted parting with her finery to raise funds for food or shelter, preferring that her family stayed hungry rather than harm her delicate pride.

　　The resulting conditions were far from ideal but were less of an adjustment for Margery than they`d been for the Miller family. Margery was shocked to discover that they didn`t know the basics of survival, things that Ma and Pa had instilled in their children from a young age. The Millers struggled to start a fire outdoors and Edith often spoiled their meagre supplies in failed attempts to cook.

　　Margery was forced to adopt a leading role in the family. She took time to teach them how to prepare food or find an appropriate place to set up camp. No longer able to just hide in the shadows, Margery became the family spokesperson and helped negotiate prices at markets or politely asked fellow travellers for directions and gossip. Unfortunately for Margery, the Millers` entitlement was so strong that these tasks were soon just expected and her lessons were quickly forgotten. As was any appreciation for Margery`s efforts.

　　The biggest letdown of the entire fiasco was Henry. The whole reason she`d even left in the first place. Margery and Henry had been close for years, enduring bullying by Holford`s older children fuelled by the taunts of their older sisters. The pair stuck together out of necessity and eventually discovered that they enjoyed each other`s company.

　　But their time together had been limited and Margery always returned to her family`s cottage at the end of the day. There was no respite now that their time together was uninterrupted, meaning that once niggly annoyances ballooned into full blown irritations. Like the rest of the Miller family, the pair were often peevish with each other and their previously easy-going companionship was frequently strained.

　　Henry barely spoke to her anymore. None of them did. The Millers all blamed Margery and her family for their plight. For bringing Matilda to Holford. They treated her with ever growing coldness and tolerated Margery`s presence only as a source of food and shelter.

　　Margery couldn`t fend off all of their animosity and it started to colour her own feelings. Her family had been the one to invite Matilda into Holford and Margery`s own taunts had so often driven William away.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

　　Perhaps she was guilty.

　　The Millers` animosity made for an incredibly lonely existence and there was ample time for introspection during the long days of walking.

　　Margery trudged on but eventually realised that, despite the dying sunlight, the Miller family still had no plans to set up camp. She was about to make the decision for them when she spotted a small wooden chapel nestled in the woods.

　　The Millers raced towards the building, each member eager for a night out of the rain with a roof over their heads. Margery followed slightly behind, amused at their almost primal need for comfort.

　　As they drew closer, Margery saw that the chapel lay on the outskirts of a tiny hamlet. There appeared to be no more than four rundown huts gathered at the bottom of the valley, each made of mud and even more dilapidated than Holford`s worst house.

　　The Millers gathered around the door of the chapel and waited for Margery to assume her role as their voice. Motioning for them to wait in place, she lay down her meagre belongings and poked her head through the chapel door.

　　"Hello?" Margery called out. "Father?"

　　There was no response, just the eerie quiet of the dark and lifeless room. A musty odour paired with the unnatural stillness to make Margery feel uneasy but she didn`t relish the thought of another night in the wilderness. Or a repeat of Joan`s tantrums.

　　"Father? Are you there?"

　　A shuffling sound came from a room behind the altar, putting Margery further on edge. An incredibly elderly man stepped into the room, his face gaunt and skeletal arms straining with the weight of a large candle. Margery called out again but he paid her no attention and continued his shuffle around the altar.

　　Margery walked to the altar and tapped the priest on the shoulder. The poor man nearly leapt out of his skin.

　　"Sorry Father, sorry!" she said, raising her hands unthreateningly.

　　"Oh my Lord," he said, holding a skeletal hand up to his chest. "You nearly scared the life out of me."

　　Margery didn`t doubt it. "Sorry to startle you Father. I`m here with a family. We wondered if we might shelter here tonight."

　　"I`m a little hard of hearing, dear," he told her with a vacant smile. "What did you say?"

　　"Can we. Please. Stay here. Tonight." Margery said loudly.

　　The priest stared blankly before spying the Millers huddled by the door. Realisation flooded across his face.

　　"Of course my dear, of course. My door is always open. Please, invite them in."

　　Margery ran over to summon the family but Joan barged through before she`d said a word, deliberately knocking Margery as she passed. The others filed in and the priest`s eyes lit up. He seemed unaccustomed to having so many guests.

　　The poor man`s hopes of a willing congregation were dashed when the family sat far from the altar and immediately began unpacking their evening meal. Seeing that they were occupied, the priest resumed preparations for his evening prayers. His shoulders were slumped and his movements even more sluggish than before.

　　Margery obediently prepared the evening meal while the Millers waited impatiently. They devoured their portions without conversation and dispersed when it was finished, eager to put another day of their nightmarish new existence behind them.

　　One-by-one they fell asleep, leaving Margery alone once more to contemplate her thoughts. She approached the altar and prayed for guidance through her hardship, taking solace in another familiar ritual. When she finished, she sat upon a simple wooden bench and looked around the small chapel. It was strange. There was no question that it was poor. There were no hangings on the walls and only crudely carved adornments on the altar. But the room was spotless and its few contents were meticulously placed. Each bench was perfectly aligned with the altar.

　　As Margery cast her eye around the room she spotted something on the pulpit that she hadn`t expected. A Bible. Bound in gnarled old leather, it looked particularly out of place in such a poor chapel. It was the largest book she`d ever seen, even bigger than Matilda`s. An absolute treasure, tucked away at the edge of the world.

　　The book called to her. Only upon seeing it did she realise how desperate she was to read again and how much she`d missed Matilda`s lessons. She succumbed to the book`s silent siren song and crept toward the pulpit.

　　She carefully opened the book and peered at the letters, struggling to make out the words in the flickering light of the priest`s candle. Most were different to those Matilda had taught during her lessons but Margery sounded them out nonetheless and quickly recognised the clergy`s Latin. She was thrilled every time she spoke a familiar word. It made the book come alive, the scribbled symbols suddenly more relevant to her everyday life.

　　Margery was completely entranced and lost track of how long she`d stood whispering to herself. She was halfway through her third page when a frail voice broke the silence.

　　"Most impressive, young lady."

　　Margery gave a muffled squawk and slammed the book shut, the sound reverberating off the bare chapel walls.

　　"I thought you were hard of hearing," she said defensively.

　　"I am, my dove. But it`s easier when I know I ought to be listening. And I could see your lips move which helps."

　　The priest let silence linger, foolishly hoping for Margery to break it.

　　"Forgive me, I`d not taken you for a lady," he finally continued. "I would`ve offered you my humble quarters, had I known." There was sincere regret in the man`s eyes. "You keep very lowly company," he noted, motioning to the slumbering Miller family. "It is so rare to see women of the nobility who can sing the sounds of the letters."

　　Margery almost laughed. "I`m no noble Father. Only two moons ago I was ankle deep in mud, fighting to harvest a rotting crop."

　　The priest looked taken aback. "No? But it is rare for the nobility to read, let alone a peasant woman. Where did you learn such a thing?"

　　"A question for a question," Margery teased playfully, enjoying the genuine shock on the skeletal man`s face. "Why does such a simple church have such a wonderful book?"

　　The priest smiled, a distant look in his eyes. "A remnant from a past life. From before I moved to this sleepy hamlet. That was a life of nobles, though admittedly not one that I miss."

　　"Frustratingly cryptic Father but very well. Our village had a visitor who stayed with my family. She had a Book of her own. Well, half a book. Seeing my family`s struggle with the harvest, she stayed to help. She taught me and my siblings to read as payment for food and lodgings."

　　The priest was intrigued but didn`t know where to begin so he quizzed Margery on everything. Her family, the strange visitor, the fire, the Miller family, life on the road. It felt so nice to have someone finally listen and Margery spilled everything that was on her mind. They only stopped when Arnold woke to relieve himself outside.

　　"Well my dear, I think it is time that we both got some rest. My head pounds when I`m overtired and I`m sorry to say there is no mill nearby so you have another long day of walking ahead of you. But do not fear the future. You have a strong head on your shoulders and I`ve little doubt that you`ll find a way out of your current predicament. Goodnight dear."

　　The priest pushed himself gingerly to his feet and blew out the large candle before hobbling into his small room behind the altar. Arnold returned from outside and quickly fell back to sleep.

　　Margery was left sitting in darkness before the altar, staring at the silhouette of the bible on the simple pulpit. Finally voicing her concerns about leaving Holford and causing the Millers` plight had lifted a weight from her soul. But as she stared up at the Bible, she still felt guilty.

　　As though she had said too much.

　　(C) Jay Pelchen 2023. All rights reserved.