If the stew was watered down, John didn't notice as he shoveled in spoonful after spoonful. He thought that it was the best meal that he had eaten and it was only after his bowl was empty that he looked up to see the old woman watching him with her gray eyes. With the worst of his appetite satisfied, John was embarrassed at his rudeness.
'May God bless you, me dear lady,' John said. 'Please excuse me rudeness.'
'I am no lady, and you are no commoner,' replied the old lady.
'Nay, you are a lady and todee I am commoner. I am in your debt,' said John, and he meant it. John related to her his experiences at the estates where he had asked for help.
'Aye, they only 'elp...' She was going to say that those of higher station only help their own kind, but stopped herself short remembering that she was speaking to one of them.
'...Their own kind, is whot you mean to say,' observed John, finishing the sentence for her. 'Aye, I agree, it is so.' John thought about his own actions and that he generally was only interested in helping those who might be of benefit to him in some way. He thought about the commoner that had taken a chicken and how he had sent him to jail. Suddenly he understood the value of a meal and what a person might do to secure one. He understood with a clarity that had alluded him his entire life.
With less distraction from his hunger, he looked around at the humble surroundings that the old woman called home. Two chairs, a small table, a dirt floor, one pot at the fire, a small quantity of wood, a straw mattress on the floor and nothing else. John stood and walked to the fireplace and peered into the pot, it was empty. He felt a tightness in his chest and moisture in his eyes as he realized that the old woman would not be eating any of the meal that she had prepared.
'Where will you sleep tonight?' asked the old woman.
'I 'ave no place to sleep.'
'It will be cold, boot you can stay in the shed.'
That was the best offer John had received in several days and he was happy to accept. The old woman also gave him an herbal ointment for use on his blistered feet.
'Gud lady, allow me to chop sume wood for your fire,' offered John.
As he chopped the wood in the gathering darkness, he thought about the life that the old woman must have known. Hunger was probably not a stranger to her. He had noticed that her hands were frail, but calloused from daily work. She must have known little leisure in her life. John had seen no indication of family. Was the woman alone? Did she have children? Who would care for her? His own mother had received plenty of care from her servants in her old age. Because of the servants, he had been required to provide little care for her himself.
'Surely common people 'ave lit'le time to think aboot anything except securing their next meal,' he thought. Until the recent days, he had given little thought concerning his next meal. He couldn't remember ever missing a meal and assumed that others experience was the same.
It was dark by the time that he had stacked the wood and had straightened a place in the shed to sleep. That night, before he fell asleep, he prayed in thanksgiving for the meal, the soft bed and the kindly old woman. He also prayed for Agnes' care and safety. 'Dear God,' he prayed, 'please forgive me for me arrogance and pride. Please see me through another dee and bring me 'ome safely to Agnes.'
The next morning John looked at his feet and they were greatly improved. The blisters were not so raw and open as they had been and his feet were not so swollen. The cloth that he had wrapped around them was worn out and so he cut off some more of his cloak and wrapped his feet.
Outside the shed, he found some more ointment and a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth. He couldn't remember ever receiving a more kind gift. He smiled and held the items close to his chest in appreciation. Then he walked to the road and headed north.
For the next several days John relied on the goodness of strangers, peasants, who had