Give me your daughter and Ill keep silent, Ian Whitaker snarled.
Forgive me, I missed the haystacks, be a man, Ian, dont ruin everything
What am I to you, Ian? Have you forgotten how to address me? To you I am Ian Whitaker, your foreman.
Have mercy, do not drag this to the magistrate
Ian rose, straightening his shoulders until his shirt strained against his back. A fierce fire glimmered in his dark eyes, scorching the frail Zachary Bell, whose shoulders slumped with fear. Zachary had run the farm crews for years, but only a year ago he had been elected chairman of the village council. At first the folk were wary; he was scarcely twentyfive, a boy still. Yet the county officials, seeing his grip on the coops affairs, his zeal and sensible approach, gave their blessing.
Youre a thief, Zachary Bell, Ian said, his voice ringing with metallic overtones. And if I say it, you cannot turn away; I will bend the law to my will.
There were haystacks and they vanished, the chairman continued. It was just after the spring. You think Ive forgotten? Ill bring you before the magistrate!
I swear by all that is holy, I have ploughed the fields honestly I never took them, I swear. Ian, perhaps we can strike a bargain; my wife will not survive this, nor my children
Children, you say? Ian mused. You want a deal? You want me to shield you and what risk is there for me? If I protect you, there must be a price
Zacharys eyes narrowed, watching the chairman, sensing a possible concession from a man who had grown up on the same soil.
And Eleanor, your pretty girl what if I were to take her as my own? I would become her betrothed?
Zachary turned ashen. Think, Ian, she is still a child.
Child? Ian repeated. I saw her at the farm the other day, a bridetobe
What bride? Shes only just turned seventeen; still a doll, still under her mothers care
The doll is ready for life! Heres my condition: you give me your daughter and I will keep my mouth shut about your misstep. Refuse and I will inform the county magistrate, and then youll stand trial. Choose wiselyhand me over your child or spend your days grinding biscuits, and perhaps you shall never see your family again.
Zachary fell to his knees before the chairman. What do you ask of me? This is a burden I cannot bear! How could I hand my child to you by force? Am I a monster?
Ian returned to the table, sat down, and drew a sheet of paper. Very well, let it be recorded: Zachary Bell has opposed authority, meddled with the common good
Wait, do not write that, Zachary whispered, his voice breaking, I will speak with my daughter this very day.
Do so, Ian replied. She is a handful, ready to argueshes still a child, after all.
Then its your fault, you snatched her Zachary muttered. Shes frightened.
If your soul is willing, Ian smirked.
Zachary sighed heavily. If only my soul were
He trudged home, collapsed onto the bench and began pulling off his boots.
Whats the matter, love? asked Martha, his wife.
On the table lay a pot of stew, the hearth gave off the scent of fresh bread. Whats the trouble?
Eleanor! he called. Shes just come out of the bedroom, hair not yet braided.
What, father?
He turned to Martha. Our chairman has set his eye on our daughter he says he wishes to marry her.
Eleanors lips trembled, her hands fumbling with her tangled hair. She stood like a sapling in a gale, shaking at the words: Why would he want me? I dont want this.
Martha dropped her ladle, gasped, and sank onto a stool.
Zachary breathed deeply. I know you do not wish it, and I do not want it either. Its too early for you but what can we do?
Father, why are you saying this?
It was the chairmans ideato force a girl into the council, not about the kings tea
The chairman thought this, and the magistrates rose against us
The way out is to refuse, Martha suggested.
Father, I wont go to him, hes cruel, everyone fears him
Their younger son, Charlie, perched by the stove, listened to every word.
Im sorry, I was careless, my mind was dull, I missed the haystacks in spring
Oh, dear, Martha cried, theyll lock you up
Ignatius will lock me up the chairman had threatened, He didnt keep his promise.
What will become of you if he takes Eleanor to marry? asked Charlie.
Youll be left Eleanor sobbed.
Zachary looked at his daughter, then at his wife, sighed, and gathered his things.
Where are you going? Martha asked.
Gather your things, mother, take a clean shirt, and the biscuits Ill go to Ian tomorrow morning, let him imprison me if he wishes, but I wont hand over my daughter while shes still a child.
Martha rushed to him, embraced him, and called out. Eleanor slipped into her room and lay on the madeup bed, listening as her mother wept and her father sighed. She had not yet noticed the other girls, only her brother Freddie, a year older, who was almost her equal. She thought of the chairman, a stern man whose frowning face always seemed to command and reprimand. He was a stranger to her, older, and his grim expression frightened her.
She felt pity for herself, for being thrust into a marriage she never wanted, and for her father, who might be taken away forever. She began to braid her hair, tugging at the strands with a mix of anger and despair. She went back to her parents, took the satchel from her fathers hands, and said, I wont go anywhere, Father.
If I were willing, Zachary thumped his chest, it would not hurt me so much. Youll have a hard time with him Ill serve my term, but youll have to live without tears.
Father! Eleanor clung to him. Dont go! Hell lock you up and wont blink. People will judge us, point at me, at Charlie, at my sister Antonia, whose husband already has a family.
Zachary sat heavily on the chest by the door, which doubled as a bench. I know, Antonia will also suffer; the shame will fall on the whole family. Theyll say Zachary Bell stole the hay
Tell him tomorrow Ill agree, let the matchmakers send word, Eleanor pleaded.
Martha packed the belongings, placed them near the stove, and, wiping her eyes, set the table.
That night Zachary and Martha lay awake, turning and sighing, while Eleanors sobs drifted from the next room.
No, Mary, shes frightened of him, the marriage would be too heavy for her now, Martha whispered. Tomorrow early, fetch my satchel, Ill go to the yard and speak to Ian. I will not give our daughter to him.
Martha, hearing this, clung to her husband. Zachary, as you say, we cannot live without you
At dawn they rose, careful not to wake the children. While they were busy in the yard, Charlie slipped out the gate. By the time they noticed, the sun was high.
Wheres our little one? Zachary asked.
I think he ran to school, Eleanor answered, I havent seen him since morning.
Fine, hell come back. Ill stay a bit longer
Zachary, stay home till noon, the magistrate wont come before then, Martha said, still hoping misfortune would pass.
Why rush to prison? Zachary decided.
Meanwhile, Charlie rode a cart with his uncle Matthew toward the county town.
Why, Charlie, do you need to go to the county centre? Matthew asked.
I have a task from school: collect my certificates.
Matthew snorted, the cart rattling over the cobbles, and entered the county town.
The first clerk of the county council, Mr. Graham, a sturdy man of fortyfive, was there. For reasons unknown Charlie believed Graham could help his father and Eleanor.
What do you want, lad? the clerk asked, surprised.
My master is Alex Mitford.
Why?
I have business.
Children have no place here.
At that moment Graham himself appeared. Charlie, eager, launched into a rambling tale, confusing the clerk.
Do you understand whose tail youre wagging? Youre slandering the chairman, the clerk warned.
Just a honest pioneer! My sister and mother howl, my uncle faces prison, and he didnt take the haystacks, I swear
Where did you hear that?
It was Ian Whitaker who concocted it to take our Eleanor as his bride
Alright, I was coming to see you today wait here till the carriage arrives.
Graham entered the council house, where Ian Whitaker, issuing orders and inspecting fields, was reprimanding the shy tractor driver Peter. Seeing Graham, everyone fell silent. Ian straightened, ready to answer.
Charlie lingered near the council, peeking through windows. He rarely complained, even when wronged, but now felt sorry for his father, who might be sent to jail for something he didnt do.
Whats your business here? Graham asked.
Im Alex Mitford, just as usual, trying to manage
Your haystacks were taken in spring, yet you only raise a storm now. Why stay silent? Graham pressed. Do you really think the chairman is guilty because his daughter refused you?
Ian grew paler with each question. I understand. Im guilty, he admitted. Its not proven I am the one, someone else took them I tried to scare him.
Then youll answer for it, Graham said softly but firmly. I appointed you, and I will send you back youll stand trial for overstepping.
Charlie burst in, flinging the door open. Turn it on, turn it on, the radiotheres war.
Graham and Ian turned the old crystal set up; the broadcast announced war, the date 22 June 1941.
Charlie raced home, the news still fresh.
Mr. Mitford, I accept no blame, but now is not the time, Ian, now pallid, said. Do not bring this to trial; let me go to the front; Ill be conscripted anyway.
Graham, stunned by the news, leaned over the table, pondering Ians fate.
The haystacks are gone, Ian continued, we dont know whose cows ate them. I must go to the front now.
Who will stay here? Graham asked.
There will be men, even old Matthew Iliffe, past conscription age, but he could serve as chairman
Very well, Whitaker, I have other matters. Ill think on yours later.
A week later the council square was crowded with carts, villagers gathered, some weeping, some laughing.
Im sorry for any hardship, Ian bowed, removed his satchel and stepped into the circle. The local fiddler set a lively tune; Ian, usually stern and unsmiling, let loose, stamping his feet and dancing, drawing the crowd into a tight ring around him.
Ah, Ian Whitaker, those are mighty hands youll hold a wife with them, but soon youll have to clutch a rifle, muttered Matthew Iliffe, now acting as chairman.
The Bell family saw their son-inlaw off. Antonia clung to him like a lash until the order was given: Off the carts!
Hard winters and unpredictable springs followed, and the village emptied of men; women toiled in fields, barns, and woods. Zachary Bell escaped conscription but worked as if three men were required.
Cold Siberianlike winters, fickle springs, and grim news marked the years.
Alas, Martha sighed, looking at Eleanor, one disaster seemed to end, another came. Yet now the new sorrow dims like a dying fire in the hearth.
Four years passed; the village had lost many, but the spring of 45 lifted spirits as victory drew near.
Fedor returned in March after a wound, his youthful vigor restored, now a soughtafter suitor.
Why turn away Fedor? Eleanor asked, now a grown woman. Where else can we find a husband? He might propose.
Mother, I understand, but I feel nothing for him
What feelings, Eleanor? Youll remain a spinster then.
A month later Ian Whitaker returned, his coat dusty from the road. Women stared as he passed, noting the empty sleeve of his uniform. He was not yet thirty, a streak of grey already at his temples, his hands scarred.
Good day, ladies! How are you faring? Where is my mother?
Joy, dear sir shes on the farm, go cheer her, today is a celebrationour son is home.
Ian quickly reentered village affairs. At the first meeting he was suggested as chairman.
There is already a chairman, Ian said, Matthew Iliffe held the farm through the war; shouldnt he remain?
Selfremoval? the villagers asked.
It seems so.
He changed, both outwardly and within. No longer the haughty roar of prewar days; the conflict had tempered him.
Good to see you, Zachary Bell, Ian greeted first, we meet again.
Good to see you, Ian Whitaker.
Come now, whats in a name? Im younger than you. I used to be proud I thought of you through the war, regretted not asking forgiveness. So now I say: forgive me for those haystacks, I knew I was not at fault
Zachary cleared his throat. Then you, Ian, forgive me, for I also moved the stacks
How?
It was simple. The farm calf had no feed, and the order from above was not to touch the stacks, but we needed fodder. I went against the order.
Zachary removed his cap, clenching it as emotions welled. I took none for myself, thats not my fault
Thats the story, Ian said. You fed our calves, after all lets not dwell on old things; it was long ago, before the war.
Father, why are you rambling? Charlie asked as Zachary stepped away from Ian. He was a snake, now his sting is gone.
Charlie received a smack on the head.
You know little! You havent lived, yet you judge. Ian Whitaker gave his life on the front, earned two medals, never a snake.
Dad?
Forget it just know this: its easy to err, hard to mend. He patted his sons shoulder. Alls well, son, the war is over, we shall live.
The cart by the barn was loaded with milk barrels. Ian, tugging a horse with one hand, turned and saw Eleanor approaching with a barrel. Hold on, lets do it together, he said, grabbing the other side. As he moved the barrels, he helped untie the horse. Their hands brushed; he gently placed his hand on her shoulder, careful not to frighten her.
I only wanted to help, he said.
You already helped, he nodded toward the cart, we all did.
He nudged the horse, and Eleanor watched, her heart filling with a strange pity for Iana man she once feared as fire, now a wounded veteran.
Days passed without Ian; some youths from the Watts family visited in his stead. One warm May day Eleanor saw a familiar silhouette, a hat on a distant hill.
He dismounted from his cart and walked toward her, smiling. The war is over, Eleanor, the curse is lifted.
She lowered her head onto his chest, both surprised, and embraced. What good news, she whispered, we have waited so long.
He, feeling her breath, was at a loss. I never imagined you would hold me. He embraced with his single arm. My hands are not enough to hug you fully, he murmured.
She glanced into his eyes, whispered, But I have two hands, and together we have three. It will be enough.
She brushed his hair, lifted her light scarf, kissed his cheeks wet with tears, then held him close, breathing hard. I wont let go, I survived for you.
Martha rummaged through the old chest by the door, filling it with embroideredAnd as the sun dipped behind the gentle hills, the villagers gathered around the hearth, their hearts warmed by the promise of peace and the enduring thread of love that bound them through hardship.
