Give me your daughter, and Ill keep quiet.
Its my fault, I didnt see it. Be a decent man, Edgar, dont ruin everything
What am I to you, Edgar? Have you forgotten how to address me? Call me GeorgeArchibald.
Have mercy, dont drag this to the magistrates
Edgar rose, straightened his shoulders until his shirt crackled. A fierce fire burned in his dark eyes, scorching the frail George, whose shoulders slumped in fear. George had been foreman for years, but only a year ago he had been elected head of the village council. At first the villagers doubted himonly twentyfive, barely old enough. Yet the county officials, impressed by his vigor in the farms affairs, his zeal and common sense, gave him their blessing.
Its theft, GeorgeArchibald, Edgar said, his voice ringing with metallic resolve. If I speak, youll not be able to turn away; the authority given to me will bend you like a shepherds crook. He continued, The hayricks vanished in springdo you think Ive forgotten? Ill take you to court!
Sir, George pleaded, Ive worked the fields honestly, swearing on my word I took nothing. Perhaps we can strike a bargainmy wife wont survive the strain, and my children
Children, you say? Edgar mused. You want protection? Whats the risk for me? If I shield you, there must be a price.
George tightened his grip, watching the council head, hoping he might show some mercy.
And Emily, your pretty, goodnatured girlwhat if I were to marry her? I could take her as my own
Georges face turned ashen. Think twice, Edgar. Shes still a child.
Child? Edgar scoffed. I saw her on the farm just the other day, already a bridetobe.
No bride yetjust turned seventeen, still a doll in the cradle, being nursed.
The doll is old enough to be tended! Heres my condition, George: give me your daughter and Ill keep my mouth shut about your mistake. Defy me, and Ill inform the county officials, and youll stand before a magistrate. Choosehand over your girl or be left to bake your own crumbs, and perhaps youll never see your family again.
George fell to his knees. What are you asking of me? This burden is unbearable! How can I, in good conscience, give my child to you? Am I a monster?
Edgar returned to his desk, fetched a sheet of paper and said, Then we shall record it: GeorgeArchibald has opposed authority, laid a hand on the common good
Wait, dont write, George croaked, Ill speak with my daughter this very day.
Do that, Edgar replied, before she decides to defy you, as shes already quite headstrong.
Then youre to blame, you took her! George shouted, Shes frightened herself.
If youre moved, Ill smile, Edgar smirked.
George sighed heavily. If only there were a soul to pull us out of this
That evening George staggered home, collapsed onto his bench and began pulling off his boots.
Whats the matter? asked Martha, his wife.
On the table lay a pot of stewing potatoes, and the oven emitted the warm scent of fresh bread. Whats troubling you?
Emily! he called. Shes just come out of the cellar, her braid unfinished.
What, dear?
He glanced at Martha. Our council head has set his eyes on her, wants to marry her.
Emilys lips quivered, her hands tangled in her loose braid, and she stood like a trembling birch in the wind, whispering, Why would he? I dont want this
Martha, clutching at her shawl, sank onto a stool.
George sighed again. I know you dont want it, and I dont either. Its too early for you but what can we do?
Father, why are you forcing this?
Its not my doing; its the councils design, not the Kings decree that we must hand a girl to the council.
The council came, cursed us, and now theyre on our throats
Refuse, and thats all thatll be needed, suggested Martha.
Father, I wont go with him, hes a tyrant, everyone fears him
Their younger son, Tommy, leaning against the hearth, listened intently.
Im sorry, I was negligent, my mind was weak, I missed the hayricks in spring
Ah, Father, theyll lock you up
Edgar promises to lock me up he threatens, says Ive failed his trust
Whats this about? If he wants Emily in marriage, then well be left behind
Yes, George affirmed, my daughter for my mistake I dont need a soninlaw like that
Father, you should complain, Tommy, thirteen, interjected.
Silence! Ill manage without your advice, George ordered. If you speak, youll be the one hauled away. The council head is still green, after all
Father, Im scared of him, Emily wept.
George looked at his daughter, then at Martha, sighed, and began packing.
Where are you going? Martha asked.
Gather your things, dear, dont forget your shirt, and the biscuits Ill go to Edgar tomorrow morning, let him arrest me if he wishes. Im not a foe to my daughter, but its too early for her
Martha embraced him, and Emily retreated to her upstairs room, sitting on the madeup bed, listening to her mothers sobs and her fathers sighs. She had not yet seen any of her friends; only little Fanny, Matildas son, a year older, almost a match for her. She was pretty, but still naïve. And the council headshe never even thought of him. He was older, his perpetually sour face frightened her; he always scolded, demanded, and reprimanded. He was a stranger.
Emily felt sorry for herself, for the sudden marriage proposal from a man she never even imagined, especially given the nasty Edgar Zorin. She also pitied her father, who might be taken away forever. She began to braid her hair, tugging at it hard, her anger and despair blooming. She returned to her parents, took the satchel from her fathers hands and declared, I wont go anywhere, Father.
If youd agreed, George thumped his chest, I wouldnt be hurting you now. Youll have a hard time with him Ill serve my time, but youll have to live without tears.
Father! Emily clutched him. Dont go! Hell lock us up, and no one will blink. Theyll judge us, blame me, Tommy, even my sister Annabelle, who already has a husband and children.
George slumped onto the chest at the doorway, which also served as a bench. I know, Annabelle will be shamed, theyll say I, George Archibald, harvested the hayricks myself thats the fear.
Tell him tomorrow Ill agree, let the matchmakers do their work, Emily pleaded.
Martha gathered the packed belongings, set them near the stove, and, wiping her eyes, laid the table.
That night George and Martha lay awake, talking, shifting, sighing heavily. In the next room Emilys cries could be heard.
No, Martha, shes terrified of him. Marriage would be a burden, especially now. Heres what well do: at dawn fetch my satchel, Ill go to the yard, confront Edgar, and I wont hand her over.
Martha, hearing this, clutched her husband, George, as you say, well manage without you
* * *
At dawn they rose, careful not to wake the children. While they tended the yard, Tommy slipped out the back gate. By the time they finished, the sun was high.
Wheres our youngest? George asked.
I dont know, perhaps he ran off to school, Emily answered, I havent seen him since morning.
Fine, hell return. Ill stay a bit longer at home
George, stay home till lunch, the council head wont have the strength to push us now, Martha said, still hoping the storm would pass.
Indeed, why rush to the magistrate? George decided.
Meanwhile Tommy rode a cart with his uncle James towards the county centre.
Tommy, why the hurry to the centre? James asked.
Ive got a task from school: fetch the certificates.
James drummed the horse, the cart rattling, and entered the bustling county town.
Tommy leapt off, thanked the clerk and rushed to the council office. The first secretary, Mr. Gresham, a stout, taciturn man of fortyfive, was there. Tommy, unaware of the gravity, claimed he needed to see Alex Mitchell, a man of importance.
What do you want, lad? the secretary asked, surprised.
I have a matter for AlexMitchell.
For what?
Its a business.
Children have no place here.
At that moment Mr. Gresham himself entered. Tommy, panic flashing, stammered, confusing the clerk about missing hayricks.
You understand who youre accusing? the secretary warned.
Its honest, sir! My sister Emily is being forced to marry
Where did you hear that?
From Edgar Archibald. He wants Emily for himself.
The secretary, now alert, said, Stay at the gate until Mr. Mitchell arrives.
Back at the village, the council head Edgar Zorin, having given orders and inspected the fields, was reprimanding a lazy tractor driver. When Mr. Gresham entered, everyone fell silent. Edgar straightened, ready to answer.
Tommy lingered by the council doors, watching the windows. He rarely complained, even when wronged, but now his fathers plight weighed on him.
Whats your business here? Gresham asked.
Im AlexMitchell.
I see youve lost the hayricks in spring, yet only now do you raise a storm. Why stay silent before? Did you wait for a convenient moment? And why are you sure George is to blame? Because your daughter rejected him?
Questions rained down like peas. Edgar paled with each one.
I understand. Im guilty, he admitted, It wasnt George, someone else took them I tried to scare him.
Then youll answer for this, Gresham said, his voice low but firm, Ill send you to court for overstepping.
Tommy burst in, pointing at a radio. Turn it on, he urged. The broadcast announced warJune22, 1941.
Edgar, pale, said, I wont shirk my fault, but this is not the time. Do not bring me to court; let me go to the front; Ill be called up anyway.
Gresham, stunned by the news, leaned over his desk, pondering Edgars fate.
The hayricks are gone, Edgar continued, We dont know whose cows ate them. Im needed on the front now.
Wholl stay here? Gresham asked.
Men will step up, like James, though hes too old for conscription, he can serve as a headman.
Very well, Zorin, I have other matters.
A week later, carts gathered around the council hall, villagers from Murton assembled. Laughter and tears mingled.
Friends, forgive my rashness, Edgar bowed, laid down his satchel and entered the circle. He began a lively dance, his arms sweeping, his feet stamping, drawing the crowd into a ring.
Ah, EdgarElliott, what hands you haveonce to hold a wife, now to clutch a rifle, muttered James, now the acting head.
The Zorin family bid farewell to their soninlaw. Annabelle clung to him like a whip, until the command to the carts! sounded.
Hard winters and unpredictable springs followed, the village emptied, many widows and orphans remained. George Archibald never served, yet he worked as if three mens quota were placed upon him.
Cold months, fickle springs, bleak days brought grim news.
Oh, sighed Martha, watching her daughter, the first disaster seems passed, yet another arrives. Now this sorrow dims like a dying fire in the hearth.
Four years later Murtons numbers dwindled; widows and orphans grew. Yet spring of 45 revived hope, the war drawing to a close.
Fedor, who had returned from the front in March after a wound, was now a soughtafter bachelor.
Why do you turn away from Fedor? Emily, now grown, asked Martha. Where else will you find a husband? Hed propose gladly.
I understand, Mother, but I feel nothing for him
What feelings, Emily? Youll stay a maiden forever.
A month later Edgar Zorin returned. Women stared as he walked the dusty lane, his coat missing a sleeve. Good day, ladies! How are you? Wheres my wife?
He was barely thirty, hair streaked with grey, hands scarred.
Welcome back, sir! a voice called. The village rejoices; the son has returned.
At the next council meeting, Edgar was proposed as head.
Theres a vacancy, he said, James held the council through the war; shouldnt he stay?
The resignation? the villagers asked.
It seems so.
He changed. No longer the harsh voice of before, the war had softened him.
Good day, George Archibald, Edgar approached first, we meet again.
Good day, Edgar Elliott.
Enough of titles, Edgar laughed, I was a fool, I thought Id hold you all to account. Im sorry for the hayricks; I knew you werent at fault.
George cleared his throat, And Im sorry too; I helped move the hayricks for the cows, not knowing the order forbade it.
The tale is old, Edgar said, the cows ate what they could, and the hayricks vanished long before the war.
Tommy, now grown, asked, Father, why are you still rambling?
Edgar, pale, replied, Ive earned two medals, yet Im no snake.
Father, youve spoken enough, Tommy snapped, receiving a swift pat on the head.
Lifes thin, son, youve not even sniffed it, yet you judge, Edgar warned. Ill be remembered for my deeds, not my sins.
Tommy nodded, Alls well, the wars over, well live on.
* * *
The carts wheels creaked as Emily, delighted, met Edgar with a milk churn. He lifted it with one hand, she with the other, and soon his arm rested gently on her shoulder. Dont worry, Ill manage, he whispered. I only wanted to help.
She watched his hands, feeling an odd pity for the man once feared. Days passed without Edgar, and the Voloshins, teenage lads, visited instead. One warm May day, Emily saw a familiar silhouette, a lone coat from afar.
He leapt from his cart, approached, smiling. The war is over, Emily, he said, the cursed days are behind us. He embraced her, her head resting on his chest. What news? she asked, eyes brimming.
He answered, The fields will sing again, the tables will be set.
She whispered, My hands are few, but together we have three.
He brushed away a stray lock, kissed her damp cheek, and held her close, breathing shallow. I wont let go, he murmured.
* * *
Martha sorted the contents of the chest by the door, filling it with embroidered blankets, towels, and sheets. She placed pillows, specially stitched for Emily, atop the chest, treating them as treasure. Emilys heart fluttered at the thought of a future with the man she once despised.
Edgar Elliott, why have you taken your medals off? asked James, meeting the former head.
Its not the medals that matter, Edgar replied, My true prize is Emily, the one I must cherish.
The sun poured down, warming the village, slipping through eaves and windows, reminding all that life and love endure.
