The Remembered - By E. H. Lorenzo


Not so long ago, there was a time when lives were greatly impacted by limited capability to travel and communicate over even small distances. Each of us had ancestors who lived then, but we don't often think about them. What were their lives like? How did the lack of communication and transportation resources affect their lives? Life was hard. They didn't know any different. We are little equipped in our modern world to live the lives that they lived. What the average person accomplished just through survival each day would be monumental for us.

The following story chronicles the lives of such people. They were loyal by nature. They were brave, but didn’t know it. And they remembered.

The Remembered


February 1459

Stamford, England

A heavy cloak of dampness filled the air inside the cold, dark room. The musky smell of moist stone made each breath seem heavy. Sleep had not come to the prisoner during the night. His mind had been racing, recalculating the injustice that had been dealt him. Thoughts of revenge boiled over and over in his mind. Such thoughts were completed contrary to his nature and he fought to replace them. But all his efforts thus far had been in vain.

Now in the moments between night and day he first began to realize just how hard his bed of stone was. The small woolen blanket that he had found in the room provided little relief from the chill coming from the slit of a window above him. Not a window for viewing the world, but instead, more of an opening to allow those outside to taunt those inside. He had never actually participated in such activities before, but had not condemned those who did. After all, he had reasoned, those who occupied rooms such as these did so as a result of their own foolishness and wicked behavior. Or so he had thought. The events of the last several days had made him question his previous thinking.

He felt something bite on his boot. He jerked with a start. Then he realized that rats are more regular visitors in such places than are people. He hated rats. He imagined the rat crawling up his leg , on the flesh beneath his trousers. A shiver ran up his spine and he drew the blanket more tightly around himself.

The rat scampered now across the room looking for a morsel that couldn’t be found. Suddenly there was a swift movement in the darkness and the rat hit the wall near His head. The force of the impact killed the rat and it fell onto his chest. He quickly flung his arms and the blanket sent the lifeless rat into the air and away from himself.

The room was probably meant to be occupied by one person, but tonight there were two. He had not been alone when he first came here in the night, there was one other prisoner. The stout oak door with its lock securely fastened ensured that they would not be leaving.

He had caught a glimpse of the other man in the candlelight when he had been thrown in. He had not been able to make out the face, but he had observed that the man wore the clothes of a commoner.

Despite the closeness of these quarters, neither man had uttered a word thus far. The prisoner knew most of the people around these parts and he couldn’t help wondering who his cell mate was in this ‘God Forsaken’ place and what his sin might be. The other prisoner might not be local at all, but rather a traveler. He kept to himself though for fear of the unknown. Even though he knew that he did not belong here, he could not help but suspect that the other individual was of the vilest variety and would receive no greater punishment for causing his death than they were going to receive anyway.

Outside a light snow had been falling most of the night. The thin blanket of snow muted most sounds that would normally be familiar to the night. The prisoner could still hear the sound of dogs in the distance and an occasional disturbance from the public house across the narrow roadway. Most disturbing though had been the sound of hooves most of the night. He knew all too well the fate that most people met once they had lodged here.

The prisoner was especially restless now after having been startled by the rat. He stood on the stone bed, if it could be called such,