Page 10 of By Marsh and By Moor
“I’ve always found that the mind does its own thing,” Solomon said.“And there’s no profit to be had in beating yourself up about it.”
There was something oddly comforting about the cool practicality in his voice.
“I’m going to try to go back to sleep,” Jed said.
He heard Solomon lie back down, and he did likewise, burrowing into the hay.Surprisingly quickly, he drifted off to sleep, accompanied by the comforting sound of Solomon’s quiet, regular breaths in the dark.
The following morning, Mrs Farley’s son, a sturdy lad of twelve or so, brought them across fields of cattle to the silted ditch, a small tributary gulley which led to the larger rhyne nearby.Even today, after a week with only light rain, the ground around the ditch glistened with standing water.The ditch was well and truly silted, there was no denying it, but Mrs Farley’s estimate of four or five days’ labour was a fair one.
Jed and Solomon worked in harmony, digging until they were up to their knees in water and stopping only for a short break to eat the pasties wrapped in wax paper that Mrs Farley had given them.
By the end of the day, they were both covered from head to foot in the loamy marshland soil.They were cold and muddy, but at least they could do something about one of those things.They dipped a bucket in the nearby rhyne, and doused each other with clear, cold water.
“Fuck,” Jed gasped, as the icy shower streamed down his neck, the shock making it feel colder than the water he had been standing in all day.
Solomon grinned at him, a full bucket in hand.“Again?”
“No, your turn.”He grabbed the bucket and upended it over Solomon’s head, grinning as Solomon laughed and spluttered.Solomon’s wet shirt clung to his chest and shoulders, the long, lean lines of him outlined under the thin cloth.He was the most vibrant thing in all the murky twilit marshland: alive and vital, brimming over with merriment.
Jed realised he had been staring a few moments too long; he turned his head away, scrubbing at his dripping face and hair.
“That’ll drain overnight, I reckon,” he said awkwardly, nodding at the pooled water in the trench they’d dug.
There was an odd silence.Jed’s back was to Solomon, and his skin prickled with the sensation of being watched.
“I reckon, yes,” Solomon said, after a few seconds.
In the fading light, a hush lay over the marsh, broken only by the rustle of wind in the rushes.
Jed swallowed.Into the silence, he said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.And bloody freezing.”
They ran back to the farm as fast as they could, shovels over their shoulders, the dusk turning to night around them.
Mrs Farley let them into her kitchen to dry off in front of the fire.“You’ll take a hot bowl of soup,” she said, plunging a ladle into the pot bubbling over the flames.
The kitchen was busy with comings and goings.A male farm servant, stooped and grizzled, sat at the table polishing knives.A cheery young dairymaid came in carrying a churn and cast a curious look at Jed and Solomon.Jed bent his head over his soup, avoiding her gaze.His landsman’s disguise was now complete: he wore a heavy linen smock Mrs Farley had given him, and a pair of old leather boots.But he’d still rather not draw attention to himself.
The maid they had seen on the first night offered them a hunk of fresh bread each.“I’ve not seen you here before,” she said with curiosity.“You’re not from these parts, are you?”
Jed’s hand jerked, splashing soup onto his knees.Some press gangs gave rewards for information leading to an impressment.
“We’re passing through,” Solomon said easily.“How about you?Have you been at this farm long?”
The two of them fell into conversation.Solomon talked readily—though Jed couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t reveal very much about himself.Soon the girl was telling him all about her sweetheart in the nearby village.
“… wish we could move there together … His uncle has a shop there, you see, but he won’t take Rob on until he’s served out his indentures … Oh, ‘tis kind in you to say so …”
Jed ate in silence, content only to listen and watch.Solomon sat with his head bent courteously towards the girl, his cap on his knee and his legs tucked under the narrow bench he shared with Jed by the fire.His long-fingered hands were wrapped around the wooden soup bowl, tapping absently against it.
The flames crackled gently.Jed’s clothes had dried, and now he was comfortably warm.The maid was called away by Mrs Farley, and Solomon settled back on the bench.He broke the last piece of bread, handing half of it to Jed.Their fingers brushed.
Jed had had men’s eyes on him before, and liked it.And men’s hands and mouths.He wasn’t pretty—quite the opposite—but he’d never lacked interest, when he wanted it.
But he also knew that sometimes a friendly smile was just a smile.
The new ditch had drained overnight.Jed cast an assessing eye over the surrounding land.Was it somewhat dryer, or was that wishful thinking?In any case, they still had several days’ work ahead of them.
Then it was dig and delve, squelch and splash, until the pale, wintry sun was high in the sky, and they took a break to eat.
