First, let me say that I am sorry it's been so long since I've posted a part to this story.
Secondly, I feel like I've been neglecting the "story writing" side to this blog, and I hope to maybe change that soon.
And thirdly, I apologize... yeah. Reading over this story again just kinda made me squint. It's been about a year since I wrote this and I am finding so many problems with it. I'm hoping to finish this up soon so we can move to something else.
Exactly an hour later, we sailed for
the Netherlands. It was a beautiful day for sailing. The wind blew my
hair. The sun shined down. We made good time and reached the
Netherlands before the sunset.
We dressed in Dutch clothes, so as not
to be noticed. We got off the large ship and headed into town.
Richard was residing at a nearby inn. We went inside and found his
room. Catherine knocked quietly. The door opened an inch, then all
the way.
“Catherine!” Richard exclaimed,
pulling us inside. “You’re here!” They embraced, and Richard
took Susan from my hands. He kissed her soft cheek. Catherine filled
him in on everything that had happened - from the escape to the men
who questioned me at Leigh.
“Where to now?” Catherine asked
her husband. I could tell she was glad to have him in charge now.
“Santon,” he replied. “It’s in
the province of Cleveland. We’ll leave as soon as you’re up to
it.”
“Let’s leave soon,” she said. So
later that day, Catherine, Richard, the girls and I, and Hugh and
Samuel set out for Santon. It would take a long time to walk to
Santon. Richard had some money, so we bought provisions and started
the long journey.
By the time we had almost reached
Santon, it had been two, long weeks. The town was seen faintly below
from the road we were walking on. It was getting dark, so we set up
camp like we did every night. Richard built a fire, and we made
supper. It was dark now, and the only light we had was the glow of
the sparking fire.
“Helen? Would you please get some
water from the stream at the bottom of the hill?” Catherine asked.
I picked up the bucket and started down the pitch-black hill. I could
hear the rippling stream nearby. Suddenly, my foot caught on
something and I tumbled. Pain shot up my leg. I rolled down and down,
gaining speed every second. I screamed and landed with a flop at the
bottom of the hill. I lay there, stunned. Catherine and Richard came
running down.
“Oh, Helen, are you all right?”
Catherine panted, kneeling beside me. I could feel blood on my right
leg. It ached terribly.
“Let’s bring her up by the fire so
we can see,” Richard said, picking me up. They climbed the hill and
sat me down by the warm fire.
“That’s a nasty cut,” Richard
said.
“What happened, Helen?” Catherine
asked.
“I think I tripped on some briars,”
I replied. Catherine carefully went to the stream and got some water
with the bucket I had dropped. Richard made a makeshift bandage out
of his handkerchief.
“There, that ought to hold,” he
said. It stung badly.
“She’s right,” Catherine said,
coming up the hill. “There are some clumps of thorns and briars
down here.”
That night, I didn’t get much sleep.
It was very cold. My leg hurt, and I was very hungry.
We got up early the
next day and headed down the road to Santon. I hobbled along, half
leaning on Edith’s shoulder. We reached Santon shortly, and Richard
led us to an inn. With some of his money, he rented three small
rooms. We stayed in the city more than two weeks.
Richard still
didn’t feel very comfortable in the town. One day, he said, “I’ve
learned about a free city nearby named Wesel. Some French-speaking
people have gathered there to escape religious persecution,” he
said.
“Are you saying we should leave?”
Catherine asked.
“Yes. I have the feeling we are
being watched here in Santon,” he said.
“How will get there?” Catherine
asked.
“We’ll walk. But I think it would
be best if we take only two servants with us,” he said.
“You’re right. It would look
strange to see so many people leaving. We will take Helen and Edith,”
Catherine suggested.
“All right. Hugh,
Samuel, and Agnes can stay here. We will sneak out,” he said.
So that afternoon,
we took a pleasant walk outside of town. This was merely a ruse,
however. In reality, we were leaving Santon and heading towards
Wesel. A mile outside of Santon, a rain began to fall. It wasn’t an
ordinary rain, but a cold, freezing rain. It was now February, and
there was ice and snow on the ground. The rain started to thaw the
ice on the road, making it very difficult to travel. I remember
slipping many times, and getting back up, only to fall again. It was
hard to see ahead of us because the rain came down in sheets. Richard
walked in front, carrying Susan. Catherine walked beside him, wearing
his cloak and carrying his sword. We walked on and on, soaked to the
bones.
The rain continued to fall. For four, tiring hours we walked,
stopping only a few times to rest. It was 6:00, when we finally
reached Wesel. I was so eager to finally be able to go inside a warm,
dry building. But, I would have to wait. No inn would accept us. We
knocked on dozens of doors, but since we were foreigners, no one
wanted us. In desperation, Richard found an enclosed porch on the
side of a church. He planned for us to spend the night there. Nearby,
a man ran down the darkened street, trying to reach shelter from the
rain. Richard stopped him.
“Sir, do you know
somewhere we could stay?” he asked. The man looked at him funny,
and said something in a foreign language. Then, he left.
“I wonder what he
said,” Richard sighed. “I think it was Dutch.”
