of her and wouldn't let her go as he tried to kiss her. Thomas had entered the back of the bakery at that moment and had rushed the soldier with the large knife that he had taken to carrying. The knife was no match for a sword and Thomas was no match for a soldier. The soldier could have easily killed Thomas, but seemed to have some sort of compassion and only wounded him in with a blow to the arm. Thomas had fallen to the ground bleeding. The soldier only left the bakery then because his companions grabbed him and removed him.
Elizabeth had been able to stop the blood and the priest, who had followed shortly after Thomas, helped to get him upstairs and into the bed.
'It were the priest who suggested writ'ing the message to you, and 'e offered to take it to Not'ing'am and 'ave it delivered to Stamford with other messages,' Elizabeth said. 'And since then, your father 'as lain 'ere and got'en worse each dee.'
James looked at his mother and saw that it appeared she hadn't been eating or resting much. 'Mum, let me stay 'ere with father tonight while you rest,' he offered. Elizabeth agreed, but went to fetch some more water before nightfall.
The next morning, Elizabeth looked much more rested, but hungry. 'I am going to start the oven, mum and do sume baking,' James told his mother and he set about to bring order and operation to the bakery. He was surprised, that after so much time away from the bakery, how he enjoyed the experience. Maybe he should have been a baker, he thought. The smells of the wood burning in the oven, and the bread cooking brought back pleasant memories of working side-by-side with his father, Thomas.
With the oven operating and bread being baked, people of the village started returning to the shoppe. It was wonderful to see the people again that he had known all of his life. He of course continued to wear his monk habit and many were pleased that he was in the priesthood.
James was disturbed by the poverty that he saw amongst the villagers. Many of them could not pay for the bread that they received, but they received it anyway with a promise to pay someday.
The days passed quickly, but Thomas did not improve, in fact, he continued to decline. On the fifth day, Elizabeth called James upstairs. 'Your father will dee before nightfall. Give 'im a final blessing, sone,' she asked.
James had never had occasion to offer the prayers, but knew how. So, he lovingly offered prayer for the soul of his father. For the first time in years, Elizabeth thought about the circumstances that had brought her and Thomas together as husband and wife. She loved this man who had treated her so well. He was kind and gentle. He was faithful to her, to his church and to his Lord. She felt a pang of guilt hearing her son offer a priestly prayer for the man that he knew as his father, yet only she knew the truth. She wanted to tell James, but felt that nothing good could come of it. Thomas was his father as much as any man could have been.
A short time later that evening, Thomas died and Elizabeth cried over his lifeless body and kissed him. James cried as well and regretted missing so much of his father's life during the last several years. Suddenly, what seemed at one time to be a selfless vocation of priestly service, now seemed to be a thief that robbed him of the companionship of his father. James felt badly now for becoming a priest and not staying in the bakery. But it was what he wanted at the time; his father had supported it and he loved him for it.
Thomas was buried the next day in a grave in the church yard where his family had been buried for generations. When James and Elizabeth returned to the bakery, James said, 'Mum, I am going to stay and 'elp you run the bakery.'
'You will nay do it,' retorted Elizabeth. 'Your place is in the priory.'
'Nay, mum,' resisted James, 'me place now is 'ere with you. Who will luk after you and 'elp you run the bakery?'
'Your place is in the priory. You made a covenant with The Lord and you will keep that covenant. I will nay stand in the way. God forbid.'