Owldale

Elizabeth: A Tale of Owldale Folk.

                                  CHAPTER ONE

The bed in which Elizabeth’s mother and grand-mother had died, and in which Elizabeth herself had been both conceived and born, was warm and comfortable. The bedroom, however, like the whole of the farmhouse except the kitchen, was icy cold on this February morning before dawn, but Elizabeth was no slug-a-bed and no stranger to cold, and she climbed from under the covers at her usual waking hour.

Downstairs in the kitchen it was warmer, and would be warmer still when Elizabeth had fetched more peat for the fire. But for now Elizabeth washed her hands, face and neck in water from the bucket she’d filled the night before and placed by the fire to warm overnight.

Tall and straight was Elizabeth, standing before the fire in the linen shift that was her only garment, her arms upraised and her fingers busy with putting up her thigh-length auburn hair. Her long oval face composed, her broad brow unlined and her grey-eyed gaze as level, direct and forthright as usual, she pondered her immediate future.

Tomorrow would be her nineteenth birthday, leaving her only another year to marry. At twenty years of age she would become a woman and would wear a collar. Then she would be leashed in public except on her father’s farm, for grown women were not allowed to leave home except on a halter held by some man or boy, to control their actions and to take responsibility for them, a difficult matter if a woman was unmarried and had no husband to call upon. But for now Elizabeth was still a girl, and  was free to roam uncollared where she would.

After her morning chores were done, after she’d milked their sole cow and turned her out to graze on the frosty grass, after she’d fed their two pigs on the crushed turnips and frost-bitten cabbages she grubbed up for them from the vegetable plot, Elizabeth fed her sister, noting absently that Ruth’s cage needed cleaning out again, before going back inside and boiling up some porridge for breakfast.

Her father was there, sitting stiffly in the big chair by the fire. House-bound and virtually helpless since his apoplectic stroke of eighteen months ago, he depended on his younger daughter for everything. Yet he accepted his condition with the grim fortitude of his religion, and he smiled his lop-sided smile when he saw his daughter kneel before him for his blessing.

Elizabeth served porridge for them both, then fried some bacon, carefully saving the excess fat, before reading to her father a few verses from the huge bible which stood, ever open, on the kitchen table, discussing their inner meaning as always. Her father smiled again; he was proud of his daughter. Few in Owldale, and certainly no woman, understood the Bible as well as Elizabeth; already the Elders were taking her into account, consulting her and listening to her thoughtfully, stroking their beards.

Then, with the February sun rising over the fell behind the farmhouse, it was time for Elizabeth to go. The Candlemas market at the village was the first of the year, and the first of the four yearly visits of Isaac the Jew with his pack of those things the folk of Owldale couldn’t make for themselves; pins, needles, cotton thread, laudanum for their ills, tea, sugar, scissors and a host of other things. The farm had little to barter, but what they had Elizabeth took with her in a sack strapped to her back; eggs, apples from last years crop, carefully wrapped in hay and as sweet as when they’d been picked, a haunch of salt pork from the pig she’d slaughtered in the autumn. Hoisting her load of fifty pounds on to her back without effort, Elizabeth, having seen to her father’s comfort for the day, left the farm.

Her long legs covered the mile to the Ackroyd steading in no more than fifteen minutes. Mister Ackroyd’s wife was in the potato patch, clad in an old sack with holes for her bare arms and her neck, grubbing in the dirt with her maimed hands, but Elizabeth ignored her. The woman had, long ago when her daughter Beersheba was little more than a baby, committed the same sin as had Elizabeth’s sister, and for this she led the life she did, halfway between that of a slave and an animal.

Beersheba, a year younger than Elizabeth, ran out to greet and the two girls, bosom friends since childhood, embraced.

Mister Ackroyd was in his cider shed, filling the last of four pottery demi-johns from the barrel, and when Elizabeth knelt for his blessing, he smiled down at her gravely as he placed his hand on her head. He approved of this tall girl, as who did not; she was an excellent example for his daughter.

Elizabeth helped him load the little cart with the produce he was sending to the market, along with her own burden, whilst Beersheba took a rope halter and went to fetch her mother.

Elizabeth helped Beersheba with her mother’s leather harness and with pinioning the latter’s arms behind her back, then with hitching her between the shafts of the cart. Throughout all this, the woman cooperated as docilely as a tame animal and she was fed like an animal, too, snuffling down a mess of cold porridge mixed with mutton fat from the hand of her daughter. Then Beersheba tugged on the rope halter attached to her mother’s collar, Elizabeth jabbed the thin rump with a stick, and the narrow shoulders stooped into the broad strap of the harness as the cart rolled forward.

The two girls strolled along the track leading to Owldale village, sole settlement in the Dale, chattering of this and that as girls do to the accompaniment of the harsh breathing of the harnessed woman, and when they reached the village they tethered Beersheba’s mother to the hitching rail along with the goat-carts of their neighbours and a cart pulled by one of the Dale’s few donkeys.

Several leashed women, led by males of their households, were arriving to be left tied to the woman-rail outside the Inn, where, when their men had left them, they were freed by other women issuing from the Women’s Rooms which took up a good part of the establishment and taken, laughing heartily, inside.

As not yet full-grown women, Elizabeth and Beersheba were allowed to go into the Common Room where the men assembled, and this they did, Beersheba carefully carrying the two eggs they would barter for their morning ale.

The seated men greeted the two civilly enough, but all were thinking on the sinister laughter coming from the Women’s Rooms. Such feminine levity boded no good, they thought in the manner of men everywhere. Taking their tankards with them, Elizabeth and Beersheba passed from the Common Room into the Women’s Rooms, there to be greeted by much laughter and enquiries about the health of their families, all speaking at once and all miraculously understanding each other, as is the way of women.

After exchanging exhaustive gossip, the two girls left the Inn by the Women’s Door. It was yet early, and the market stalls were still being set up as they crossed the Green to visit the Sinner’s Corner, where young girls, and sometimes grown women, were displayed as punishment. Young Magdalene Briggs was there, in the third and final day of her punishment for the usual indecent behaviour, tempting boys with indecorous dress and mannerisms. Naked, and chained like a dog to the rock face of the outcropping which ran across the Green, she was being teased by the children who threw stones at her where she huddled sobbing through her gag. Mrs. Oldroyd, a well-known transgressor, was also on display for the day, spread-eagled between two stout posts, her naked body, blotched red and blue with cold, already showing red welts from the whip which was hung nearby for the use of passers-by.

That was the way it was in Owldale; women and girls were punished like the near-animals they were, whereas men were ostracised and boys  beaten, for the sins of men where those of falling into the temptation offered by the bodies of women, for Woman was the creature really at fault in thus dragging down the Images of God to their own level.

And yet, despite the fact that girls and women were the chattels of their fathers, husbands or older male relatives, they found ways to make themselves heard, and even obeyed, for the home was a married woman’s Kingdom, where her will was law and where no man, even her husband, entered any room but the kitchen without her invitation. There husbands slept in on hard little beds in Spartan little rooms, only allowed to visit the big, comfortable marriage bed at the will of their wives. Also, men learnt to go along with the wishes of their wives, for such too often turned out to be for the best, and if they didn’t, at least household harmony was undisturbed. Thus it was that Elizabeth was quite content with the future husband she and Seth Arkwright’s mother had chosen for her, a choice known and approved by all the women of Owldale and totally unknown to their men, Seth included - which was as it should be, for men were foolish in these affairs.

Returning where Beersheba’s mother stood tethered, they unhitched her from the cart from which they intended to barter their goods, leaving her at the rail until they were ready to leave. The first thing Beersheba’s mother did was to whimper piteously, whereupon Beersheba lifted the hem of the sack to her mother’s waist to allow her to urinate standing without fouling her crude garment. Then she gave her mother water from her cupped hand before helping Elizabeth push the cart into position amongst the stalls of the other traders.

The little market began to be busy; everywhere leased women were being led about by their bored and grumbling men folk, who would have bought the first thing on offer and not bothered to find goods of better quality or cheaper in their male foolishness. And so the men, titular Lords and Masters of their womenfolk, obeyed the sharp-voiced instructions and waited long minutes whilst items were inspected by by their eagle-eyed women, feeling foolish but not, somehow, being able to disobey.

Elizabeth’s few goods were soon bartered away, some of them for money, copper coins and silver ones, too, and with these she repaired to the stall of Isaac the Jew.

There was always a crowd around Isaac’s stall, partly of those coming to buy, but mostly of those coming to enjoy the spirited haggling between Isaac and the women, he extolling the quality of his goods, they decrying them as Brummagem rubbish not worth the purchase. The women of Owldale were frugal with their few coppers, and Isaac would throw up his great arms and appeal out loud to his God to spare him from the poverty that would strike down his wife and children at the hands of these witches, and bemoan the time and trouble he’d taken to come to this ungrateful dale, and swear never to return. Then he would drain one of the pots of ale brought to him by a relay of worshipping small boys and return to his chaffing and haggling refreshed, his great black beard bristling with defiance and his brown eyes dancing with laughter.

Elizabeth bought salt, pepper, sugar and sewing thread. As usual, in exchange for a kiss upon his bearded cheek, Isaac gave her a length of blue ribbon for her hair, and one for Beersheba, too, and Elizabeth went back to the cart where her friend had sold all her goods and was ready to depart. But first, after hitching Beersheba’s mother to the empty cart, they went into the Inn where Beersheba paid two pence for a hearty dinner of roast mutton and potatoes, along with a pot of ale to stay their thirst.

Then they went home, Bathsheba leading her mother whilst Elizabeth, in a hurry to get back to care for her father, prodded the tired woman along with her stick.

                            CHAPTER TWO

It was Easter Sunday, an important day for Elizabeth, for today Seth’s parents were to visit for the first time, bringing along their son with the unspoken intention that he should propose to his wife to be. Elizabeth, with the aid of Bathsheba, had scrubbed the normally clean kitchen until it shone; now, with her father comfortably settled in his chair by the fire, she waited for their guests to arrive, standing in the doorway and gazing over the fell in order to see them cross its ridge.

At last they came into her sight and she bustled indoors. Seth’s father, in view of the importance of the occasion, had borrowed his wealthy brother’s donkey, and he and his son rode in the cart whilst Lady, Seth’s dog, trotted at one side and Seth’s mother walked along behind on her halter, for that was the way women were taken from place to place. On their arrival in the farmyard, Elizabeth herself hurried out to free her prospective mother-in-law and usher her inside before turning to the two men waiting respectfully on the doorstep and inviting them to enter.

An hour later, after a meal of roast mutton and potatoes garnished with herbs, along with many other good things Elizabeth had produced without her father even knowing they possessed, all four sat over their ale in the big kitchen Seth’s mother, whose general approval had been noted by Elizabeth, looked her meaningfully and Elizabeth rose to her feet at once.

  “Wilt thou walk with me, Seth Arkwright?” she asked him.

He flushed and replied that ‘right willingly he would,’ and the two left the kitchen, Seth’s dog Lady at their heels.

First she took him around the farm’s barns and outbuildings, most needing work on them which Elizabeth couldn’t cope with. They visited Ruth in the dark little shed where she crouched in her cage. Ruth was having one of her good days, of which she’d been having more and more lately, and she didn’t snarl at her visitors nor try to lash out at them through the bars with her maimed hands. Indeed, Ruth seemed to take to Lady, watching the dog with fascination and even licking Lady’s muzzle when she poked her long nose through the bars. Seth opined that God was winning the struggle for Ruth’s human soul; soon He would take it unto Himself, and then Ruth, now only possessing the innocent soul of an animal, would be happier, and might even be released from her cramped cage and kept outside on a chain. She would, of course, be useless about the farm, her limbs, wasted away by her long confinement, would keep her on all-fours all the rest of her life.

They’d walked half a mile and Elizabeth was beginning to get a little impatient. Seth, she thought, knew very well what he was meant to do, he flushed every time he looked at her, but he seemed tongue-tied, and Elizabeth, in a thoroughly feminine manner, was torn between throwing her arms around him or hitting him over the head with a blunt instrument. Finally, when they were leaning on a fence overlooking the farmhouse below, he spoke at last.

  “I would wed thee, Elizabeth Plowman,” he said simply. “Wilt thou have me?”

For a moment Elizabeth gave him no answer. Then, seeing Lady sitting at Seth’s feet, she stooped and removed the dog’s collar. Dropping to her knees, Lady’s collar in the palms of her hands, she offered it up to him, her head bowed. “Take me, husband! Here is a collar for me!” she whispered, then felt the smooth leather, still warm from the dog’s neck, slide around her own.

Seth raised her to her feet, and they kissed. Taking from his pocket the new collar he’d bought for this occasion, he looked at it ruefully before stooping and buckling it about his dog’s neck, for dogs, goats and women must never be allowed to run uncollared. Then they walked back to the farmhouse, hand in hand.

                                       CHAPTER THREE

The wedding was to be on Lady Day, which proved to be sunny and fair. By now Elizabeth had despatched her father to live with some cousins of her husband’s family, and the old man had gone willingly, for there he’d have more company and more folk to tend him. Now with the whole house cleaned and polished, Elizabeth and Beersheba made their way to the Inn where the ceremony was to take place.

The traditional course of the wedding was highly symbolic. A nervous, blushing, small boy was brought in to remove Elizabeth’s collar, something only a male might do, then curtly dismissed. Elizabeth was then stripped of her shoes and all her clothing, her hair let down and her body rubbed with dirt to signify Woman’s natural state. She knelt, her long legs folded beneath her and her buttocks resting on the heels of her upturned feet, and waited for her escort.

A timid knock on the door announced the arrival of an eight year old boy, Seth’s youngest brother and the male relative chosen to take out the bride to the ceremony. At once the women fell upon him despite his feeble protests, scrubbing his face and hands and brushing his clothes and hair mercilessly until they were satisfied with his appearance. Then he was given a long, soft rope and, amidst a hail of terse orders about how he was to conduct himself, he nervously dropped the noose at the end of the rope over Elizabeth’s head and settled it around her neck.

Then he timidly tugged at the halter and led Elizabeth outside, the last of the threats and objurgations of the women still ringing in his ears.

Naked and on all-fours, her long hair trailing in the dirt, Elizabeth was led between the two lines of her neighbours, kept close to the boy’s leg, for he, increasingly confident (it was only like leading a goat, after all!) had coiled up the slack of the halter in his hand the better to control her movements. At the head of the twin lines of people stood the Elder behind his lectern, with Seth facing him on the right, flanked by his elder brother as Groom’s Friend, with Elizabeth’s father, leaning heavily on his stick, on the left.

It was to her father’s side that Elizabeth was led, and the end of her halter put into his veined hand. There she knelt whilst the Elder preached his sermon. She listened carefully throughout the hour-long discourse, checking his interpretations of his chosen theme, as did all his audience.

Finally the sermon ended, and the Elder proceeded about his office.

The words of the marriage ceremony were simple and few.

  “Joshua Plowman, dost thou give this woman, thy daughter, to this man, Seth Arkwright, that she may love, honour and obey him all her life?”

  “That I do, and that right willingly!” the old man replied proudly.

  “And dost thou, Seth Arkwright, in the eyes of God and your neighbours, take this woman to be your wife, to love and honour her all your life?”

  “That I do,” Seth said in a ringing voice choked with tenderness. “And that I do right willingly!”

“Then do thou take her with God his blessing, and so comport thyself that she may be lifted upwards from her woman’s state by the Image of Christ thou bearest.”

With that, Seth’s brother passed to him the collar Elizabeth was to wear as signifying she was had passed from being the property of her father to being that of Seth. It was the same collar she’d taken from Lady’s neck earlier that year, and for the second time Seth buckled it about her throat, securing it with brass rivets to denote its permanence. The halter was removed and a leather leash substituted, and then Seth raised his new wife to her feet, signifying her ascent in God’s eyes from her natural female animal state to nearer that of Man and kissed her tenderly, ignoring the dirt that clung to her body.

Then she was led back between the two lines of clapping people, proudly upright, and was given into the care of her husband’s female relatives to be bathed and clothed.

The Wedding breakfast, at which Elizabeth knelt at her husband’s side to be fed scraps from his plate alternatively with his dog, took its usual course, with speeches of congratulations to the young couple and well-wishing from everyone. Then Seth and his new wife departed for home, along with a small group of relatives and friends. Seth drove his brother’s donkey, borrowed for the occasion, with Elizabeth walking behind on a halter, a full-grown adult married woman in public.

When the cavalcade stopped in the farmyard and Elizabeth was released, she made her way at once to the doorstep and opened the door leading into the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, she turned and regarded her audience calmly.

Seth stepped hesitantly forward, uncomfortable in the solemn silence.

“My lady wife,” he said formally. “Doth it please thee that I may enter thine home?”

  “Enter thou mine home as thou hast entered mine heart; my husband, my Lord and Master!” Elizabeth replied in clear, ringing tones audible to all present.

And so he did, followed by all the rest, everyone pleased with the full observance of these traditional formalities.

It was not long until Seth and Elizabeth were alone, their guests only staying for the traditional draughts of ale to wish them luck. Seth went for a walk with his dog, leaving Elizabeth to prepare their simple evening meal.

She served it to him on his return in the early evening, and afterwards she read to him from her Bible, stopping often to debate some translation of the Hebrew into English, presenting her theses with a dialectical skill much to Seth’s admiration and pride.

Afterwards, they smoked their pipes and drank their ale by the fire in a comfortable silence. Elizabeth went to bed as the old clock struck nine, leaving Seth with his ale by the fire. Presently he rose to his feet and cast an uneasy glance upwards to where his wife’s bedroom was situated over the kitchen, the better to get the warmth. He went outside, his dog following, to pace nervously about the farmyard, his pipe and tankard forgotten, every now and again taking furtive glances upwards at where a candle glowed in his wife’s room.

Finally plucking up his courage, Seth called Lady to him and chained her to her kennel before going back inside and barring the kitchen door behind him. After putting more peat on the fire against the morning chill, Seth crept noiselessly up the stairs to his barren little bedroom.

Undressing by the light of his candle, Seth turned back the cover before pulling his nightshirt over his head. The garment secured by its strings, he blew out his candle, his eyes straying to the door leading to his new wife’s bedroom, the inner keep of every woman’s castle, a room he could not - would not - enter without her invitation on each and every occasion.

Alone in her bed, Elizabeth smiled that secret smile known to every women as she waited for her new husband’s tentative knock on her door. It was not long in coming, for Seth was a man both young and lusty, and she heard him at her door some moments before he summoned the courage to rap upon it. She bade him enter in a soft voice, and enter he did, and at the same moment Elizabeth slid from beneath the covers to welcome him.

Seth stood transfixed. Elizabeth was naked, her long, slender body hidden only by the gleaming auburn hair that descended to her thighs, hiding all manner of delights. Now she was close to him, the woman-scent was in his nostrils, and she was untying the strings of his nightgown and slipping it from his shoulders until it slid from his body to pool about his feet. Then she took him by the hand and led him to her warm bed.