Bloodline 1752

This is a work of pure historical fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Especially, as their descendants own half of Dorset and have been known to sue people.

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Wiltshire is not Dorset. Never was, never will be. Nobody in Wiltshire can see the sea. No cliffs, no seashore, no foaming waves. No sailing ships. Because of this I'm sure that they don't eat sea fish. The only fish they eat must be river fish.

Now, I am a wise woman. My mother was too. Her.............you get the picture.

I'm not a witch. Never was, never will be. My mother...........I'm sure you understand.

Despite all this, my grandmother often knew things before they happened. Come to think of it, my cousin was a little strange too. But that could be because she fell out of a tree when she was six.

In this year of 1752 I can safely say these things. In the past there has been a very fine line between wiseness and witchness. Get caught on the wrong side and your bacon would be cooked. I can't quite believe that I said that.

When rich people get sick they can employ a physician. He will visit you in your home. He will take your blood and then he will take your money. He will give you no assurance that you will get better. None.

Poor country folk visit the village wise woman. She will use her knowledge of herbs and minerals to make a potion for you. She will give you no assurance that you will get better. None.

Some also use charms and spells. They offer less chance of healing than the herbs, other than the fact that if you think that you are going to get better you are more likely to get better than if you don't think you will get better.

I never use charms and spells. I never have and so forth.

It was the spells and charms that scorched so many women.

The biggest difference between physicians and wise women is that a wise woman won't charge you too much. Just whatever you can spare; a few eggs, a hen or a bag of apples.

Having said all this, I believe that I do good. For a wide range of minor ailments there are things that I can do. If you have cholera, smallpox or typhus the best I can do for you is to make your passing more comfortable.

Poor people who live in towns and cities have no use for wise women. They have gin.

For a country practitioner the bulk of her trade is to do with pregnancy matters. Getting pregnant, not getting pregnant, the ills of being with child and the recovery from childbirth.

In this village it is mainly about getting pregnant. Wives want to be with child. It is rare for a woman to have more than one child, two is almost unheard of.

It's different for me. I'm married to the village blacksmith, Hugh.

I can never forget the day I first saw him walking down the lane that runs through the village. His gert bag of tools slung over his shoulder.

A huge man, a strong man, a rugged man, handsome, dark haired and beautiful.

I loved him in that instant. I love him still.

When I asked him where he was walking to. And he said, "The American Colonies."

"What, all the way?" I said.

He smiled. The smile of an angel on that rugged face.

He would stop when he got to the sea and then find a ship that was going west, he explained.

I never even knew that people wanted to go to The Colonies. I knew that if you committed a crime that you could be sent there to work for the people who lived there. I think that they are called Indians.

Hugh told me that there were settlers there who built homes and farms. I thought that the Indians must be wonderful people to give these settlers some of their land.

I gave him some of the clear clean water from the village well. He drank it straight down and declared it far better than the water in his native Salisbury which is way up north in Wiltshire.

When I said that I had added a little herbal tincture to it, he asked for a second cup.

From that moment he was mine.

I think that Hugh has one philosophy in life: 'Don't say a single word more than you need to'. But, with the right questions I managed to find out that he was leaving Wiltshire because there are too many blacksmiths and too little work.

I asked him if he was sad to leave his home. I know that I would be.

He was. His father had been a smith there and so had his grandfather. His forebears had owned the forge and cottage when Jesus had stayed there overnight on his way to Glastonbury.

I asked him if he thought that it was true that Our Lord had visited England.

Hugh said that it must be as any man would want to see where his father had been born. And it is a well known fact that God is an Englishman.

Our village had a forge but no blacksmith. Hugh walked no further.

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In the first three years of marriage we had three children. A son and two daughters.

Alfred is now coming to the end of his time with a blacksmith in Dorchester. I wanted him to serve his apprenticeship here but Hugh said that he would learn nothing from a loving father who praised him too easily and did not chastise him enough when he made mistakes.

The girls are learning with me. They now go out each morning and forage the woods and hedgerows for berries and roots. They spend the afternoons tending the herb garden or making up potions.

As you may imagine my services as a wise woman, in an area where children are rare, were always in demand.

Women came from all around to take the same herbal potions that I took.

Hugh thought it was superstitious rubbish. He knew it was because he would never eat sea fish, only river fish. The men around here ate both.

I knew many remedies for having babies but had never needed any for not having them. Loving with my Hugh was wonderful but I didn't think that I wanted a child every year for the rest of my life.

My mother was unsure what to do too.

We walked eight miles to speak with another wise woman. She was very old.

She said, "You must always do it standing up with your man standing behind you. When he feels his seed is approaching he should jump backwards and you should jump forwards."

As well as this advice she gave me a list of herbs which I should mix in vinegar and water and wash my parts out with afterwards

After a further twenty years of marriage we now have five offspring. So you could say that it worked.

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It didn't take me long to realise that the reason for my ability to bear children came solely from the fact that my husband wasn't from around here. I am not sure if which fish he ate had made any difference.

My inner sense told me which of my customers was desperate to have a child. It also alerted me to who would consider desperate measures and who would not.

Newly wedded woman had time on their side. Those who had been married longer did not.

Biddy Charles was one such. She had married Crabby Charles ten years ago and was now in her thirtieth year. We spoke long and hard one afternoon.

"It doesn't seem right, Maddy, so many women wish and pray and long for a baby but you have produced five," said Biddy.

"Ah, perhaps you are right but we don't always get the choice." I said.

"Could you not just sell me one of yours?"

"Biddy!" I scolded.

"Sorry, sorry but I am forlorn. My husband is a strong working man just like yours. I love him and he loves me at every chance. If you catch my drift," she said, mournfully.

I lowered my voice and I took her hand, "It came to me earlier. I will not sell you a child but I could lend you something."

"I wouldn't like to have a little one that I had to give back. That would break my heart." said the Goodwife.

There was silence for a moment.

"Not a little one but the means to make a little one," I finally said.

A further silence followed.

"Do you mean Hugh?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure that's where all my children have come from."

"But wouldn't it grieve you if he was with another woman?"

"No, not at all. He loves me. He won't leave, I'm sure. He will do anything for me." I added.

"Put it this way. If I had a barrel of flour that I knew would be refilled magically everyday and I saw that you were starving, why would I not give you a bushel?" I went on.

"Would I have to tell my Crabby?" said biddy.

"That is for you to say but if you did would it help? If he had a child and he thought it was the result of my herbs, would it matter?" I said.

"Well, I suppose not," she said.

"Let me feel your forehead," I asked.

We had a little womanly talk about time and tides and the moon.

"You carry on taking the potion for two more weeks. That will allow time for things to align. If you want to go on, come back.

"I will arrange the final part. If he's not needed he won't mind." I said.

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Sure enough, after two weeks Biddy came back. She was desperate enough to be sure of what she wanted.

We went out to the forge where Hugh was working.

"Your services are needed," I said.

"What is it, Biddy, a ploughshare or a hoe maybe?" he said.

I rebuked Hugh, "Now don't be coy, you know what is required. Kindly wash your hands and take your clothes off.

"This is not the kind of work that can be done in a dirty leather apron and breeches."

Slowly, Hugh put down his hammer and tongs. He ambled over to the bucket of clean water by the door and plunged both hands in.

He turned towards us. Staring directly at Biddy, he began to remove his apron with no haste whatsoever. Hugh knew that this always inflamed me so there was a fair chance that it would do the same to her.

The removal induced a sharp intake of breath from both of us. I did a slightly better job of hiding mine. Long years of brutal physical labour had resulted in iron hard muscles from his throat to his waist. The glow from the forge only served to highlight the contours. Agricultural men had fine bodies but not one of them could match a blacksmith's.

Hugh kicked off his great boots.

He slowly unbuttoned his breeches. As they dropped he simply stepped out of them.

"No wonder you are always getting pregnant. That thing puts the seed twice as far in as most men," cried Biddy.

I just thought it was normal.

"Is it that big?" I asked her.

"Not so much thick as fearful long," she said.

Hugh said, "Am I to be discussed like an Arab Horse at Newmarket races?"

"Sorry," I said, "I think Biddy has changed her mind."

"I didn't say that," she said.

Hugh lifted the bucket and poured the remaining water over his naked body.

"Am I needed or not?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, but you'd better both come into the cottage. Someone might see you," I said, quickly.

The kitchen has a large table where I prepare my herbal potions. I cleared the jars and mortar to one side.

"You had best climb up on here," I said to Biddy.

"I will wait in the next room,"

Closing the curtain that divides the kitchen from my herb store, I left just enough of a gap so that I could see.

Biddy hitched up her skirt and Hugh lifted her onto the table. His body was obscuring my view of her minky but I was sure that she was ready for him.

Hugh braced his muscular legs as he entered Biddy. She squealed.

"Are you alright mistress?" asked Hugh.

"Oh yes, please don't restrain yourself, blacksmith," she ordered.

He didn't.

His calves and thighs tensed as he put all his effort into his work. I think he was taking much pleasure from the unaccustomed position.

Biddy shouted,"Yes!" on every thrust.

I wasn't in the slightest bit jealous. I knew that the cause was deserving. But watching the young woman getting what I would normally be getting made me wonder if it wasn't going on a little too long.

I silently crept from behind the curtain.

Slipping my hand between Hugh's legs, I gently stroked his ball sack.

The benefits of this were twofold. Firstly, he finished his work immediately and secondly he threw his seed a little further. He made no attempt to jump backwards.

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Hugh wandered into the cottage for his midday snap. He was laughing to himself.

"What has tickled you?" I asked.

"Farmer Drew came into the forge this morning," he said.

"He lives over at Windy Ridge doesn't he? Didn't he take a much younger wife about fifteen years ago?" I queried.

"That's the one. Well, he wanted me to make one of those chastity belts with a padlock like they used in the Mud Evil times.

"He's heard a rumour that his wife is had by village men and boys every time he goes to market," Hugh added.

"Well, he's the last one to hear that rumour. I'd say that it's more Common knowledge than a rumour.

"What did you say?" I asked Hugh.

"I told him that the village women would be after my blood if I did that sort of thing. He just went off to find another smith.

"What I didn't tell him was that there is a great Oak post in the middle of the pub that holds the roof up. Every time anyone tupps his wife, they cuts a notch in the post.

"The innkeeper is worried that the roof will cave in any day now," laughed Hugh.

"I trust that you've not been putting any notches in that particular post," I said.

"Don't be so silly, woman. Why would I be taking a knife into a tavern?" he said.

We both set about laughing.

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Crabby completely lost his mind when Biddy told him that she was with child. He bought every man in the tavern a drink. Hugh thought that maybe I had a potion I could give him. I reassured him that it was just a temporary derangement caused by pride.

The news did nothing to lessen the number of women asking for my help. To most I just dispensed my finest herbal infusions. I knew it wouldn't guarantee pregnancy but it would do them no harm either.

For those who time was against them, I employed the far more reliable solution.

Hugh to his great credit never once acted as if he enjoyed the task. Rather, he made me feel as if he did it to humour me.

One big change in our marriage that this brought about was that I gave up the standing up and jumping method of avoiding children. I wasn't envious of the other women. It was just seeing Hugh empty his seed into them reminded me how much joy I used to get from it. I kept up the herbal wash afterwards.

I'm not sure why but I felt compelled to watch everytime Hugh tupped a customer. I deluded myself that it enabled me to help out if the process was taking too long. The truth was that I just enjoyed seeing Hugh's muscular body slapping against a village woman that I knew.

It wasn't like a wave crashing into the Chesil, more like a stream tumbling from a hillside. Nevertheless, slowly but surely the number of women with babes increased in the area.

When a young wife observed that it was only the slightly older women who conceived, I simply sidestepped and told them that the herbs took time to work.

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A bright May morning and I was seated at my table making good use of my pestle and mortar.

The knock at the door was so quiet that at first I thought it was the wind. A second knock was slightly louder.

"Come in if you are there," I shouted, "If not, stay outside."

The latch lifted and a young woman entered. She was tidiedly dressed. Not rich but by no means poor.

She looked around giving the impression that she would rather not be there.

"And what can I do for you, young lady?" I asked.

She didn't look as if she had the flux so I expected her to ask for something to ease some minor ailment.

"Do you have a potion to make a woman have a child," she asked.

Not shocked but a little taken aback, I paused before answering.

"You are quite young. Does your husband know you are here?" I enquired.

"Oh, I don't have a hus........" she blurted out.

"So why are you in a hurry to get pregnant?"

"Please Mistress, have mercy. I don't know why my lady sent me. I have no knowledge of what happens in the marriage bed.

"She thought that you would just give me a bottle or a powder or something." the maid stammered.

"Sit here," I said, pointing to a stool.

"Now, do I know this lady? And how long has she been married without issue?"

The young woman hesitated, unsure if she should divulge such information.

"You may speak freely. I am no stranger to women's secrets and I keep them close.

"If I am ignorant of these things I cannot help and I will wish you a good day." I said, emphatically.

Then, she overflowed. Her lady lived in the big house two estates from here. She had been married for eight years. Her husband, the Earl, was twenty-two years older than her. He had been married before but his wife died without giving him an heir. She was desperate to ensure that she provided a son. The Earl had a big house in London as well as his Dorset home. He owned plantations in the Caribbean Colonies.

I had to stop her. She was giving me too much information. Or rather, information that I didn't need.

"The only way that I can help the Countess is if I speak to her in person. Tell her to come here any morning as it is quieter." I instructed.

The maid was glad to be released and left quickly.

Once the little thing had gone started to ponder the nature of the Earl's plantations in the Caribbean Colonies. I knew that about ten years ago some forward thinking men in London had given instructions for plantations of trees to be laid hereabouts so that in three hundred years or so the King's Navy should have mighty Oaks to build his ships. I wasn't sure that it would be worthwhile going all the way to the Colonies to do the same. Surely they would have trees of their own.

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The next day the maid returned.

She was nearly distraught. "The Countess was furious that you should summon her here. She nearly had me beaten. You are instructed to attend her ladyship," she said.

"It sounds as if your mistress is quick to anger." I replied.

The maid said, "Not usually, mostly she is kind and caring. But on this subject she is at the end of her tether."

"What your mistress fails to understand is that I am not tied to an estate. My husband owns the forge and this cottage in freehold.

"If she does not want my help, I don't mind. I understand that she may feel that coming to a village wise woman is beneath her.

"If she needs my intervention she could leave her carriage at a distance and don a disguise. If that would help."

The maid looked as if she would rather run away and hide in the woods than be the messenger but she went.

For hundreds of years agricultural workers were tied to their estate. The lord of the Manor had total control over them. Slowly, that has changed. People are no longer serfs but the landowners have found more subtle ways to keep them subjugated.

The village Smith was different, always free. Always strongly independent. Sometimes the aristocracy tried to forget it.

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From the cottage I could hear the reassuring ring of hot iron being struck against the anvil. Hugh is good at what he does. Everything he does. I bless the day he came into my life.

As I bundled up sprigs of herbs ready for them to be infused into a tea the door swung open. A woman strode in. Tall but obviously wearing the same cloak that her maidservant had worn before. Not much of a disguise, I thought.

She pulled back the hood and removed the cape. I have always loved the male form in all its facets but I still know a beautiful woman when I see one. She was beautiful. Dark haired and dark eyed with ivory skin. Her dress was a loose approximation of the sort of thing a shepherdess might wear. If she could afford the finest silk, that is.