Interpreting the English Village by Aston Mick; Gerrard Christopher;

Author:Aston, Mick; Gerrard, Christopher;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: SOCIAL SCIENCE / Archaeology
ISBN: 1696568
Publisher: Windgather Press
Published: 2013-02-06T16:00:00+00:00

Figure 7.40. A detail from a wall painting of St Christopher in the church of St Mary Magdalene, Ditcheat (Somerset), first revealed in 1931. It shows a postmill with a gabled and weatherboarded body which appears to be of two storeys. The painting (and the plaster beneath) is heavily restored but may be faithful to the fifteenth-century original.

CHAPTER EIGHT

After the Dissolution

Post-Medieval Shapwick, 1539–1750

August 1556, Shapwick

William Walton, formerly under-steward of Glastonbury Abbey lands, has recently purchased the manor of Shapwick from Sir William Petre, a courtier and Secretary of State. But he stands accused of sending his men to assault a local woman, Joan Cronne, in a dispute over the lease of a hay meadow and now awaits the decision of the Court of Star Chamber …

The horseman was standing quietly in the road when William Walton came out of church.

‘God’s nails, here so soon. What news?’ Walton, red-faced and fat, moved closer, nervous now. He fiddled noisily with the jettons in his hand, snapping them together. It was the lawyer, Poultney.

‘I ride direct from Glaston, sir. There is news from London.’

‘What have they decided?’ Walton pressed. ‘I am innocent?’

‘Ay.’ Poultney lowered his voice, drawing his cloak about him. ‘All went according to plan. They say that you were not here and that the widow Cronne had no rights in the meadow. But sir –’ he was whispering now ‘– that beating was a stupid thing. Your men all but took her life. “Of devilish evil mind”, she called you before the Justice, and had it not been for vicar Barrett, things may not have turned out so well.’

Walton stared hard, his mouth tightening. ‘Barrett was paid well enough for his time in court.’ Poultney hesitated. ‘It is my opinion, sir, that you would be well advised to be rid of Petre’s land while you can. You should profit from what you have, sir, before things worsen for you. Sell to your cousin Thomas while he shows interest. Destroy your papers. You know as well as I that those sales of abbey land at under value will not hold if the truth is out.’

‘Pox on it. I will do no such thing.’ Walton was raising his voice now and other churchgoers turned to stare at the rider. ‘God’s death. Shapwick was to be mine, the King’s Commissioner said as much when the Abbey went down. Now the monks’ papers flutter like butterflies, the lead is gone from the roof, stripped by the Augmentations men these past fifteen year and the abbot is scraped and hung from his own gate. Is that not enough?’

‘You lose your way, sir.’ Poultney looked directly at him now. ‘You think too much on the old religion.’

Walton looked away across the valley where the morning mists hung low and white across the moor. ‘Damn widow Cronne and damn cousin Thomas. They both deserve a sore thrashing. I will send a message to Ham. If Thomas will agree to me staying in the house, I will sell, though God’s blood I sweated hard enough at the Abbot’s books to have what should be mine.

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