— • —
1.06.1 - Crock of Soup
One of the more lasting legacies of the considerable improvements to the estate carried out by Sir Marcus's long deceased father is the system of water-meadows. Protected from the frost by winter flooding, these provide much earlier grazing than unmanaged pasture. Later in the year, judicious flooding produces superlative yields of sweet hay. So much, in fact, that it becomes a saleable crop in its own right.
In the generally horse-drawn economy of the time, anybody with large amounts of surplus hay would have been in much the same position as one who in later centuries owned a small oil-field.
The seasonal irrigation, by the flooding, or as it was often called, the "floating" of the Mardlingham water-meadows relied largely on the actions of the miller. Under the lax regime of the late Old Lady, he had got into the habit of optimising his sluices for the convenience of the waterwheel, with only a passing thought for the hay crop. Sir Marcus, with the oncoming winter in mind, has already confronted him with this matter in no uncertain terms, but there are other factors which neither have taken into account.
Of course, being Norfolk, when Tottie refers to a ‘crock a soap’ she means a bowl of soup. This should not be taken as culinary criticism, Cook's soup is without peer, and she's waving the trophy that proves it:
“Oh my!” say Tilly, “Ware hev yew bin. Cook's got har master-size wudd'n spune stand'n by t'gi' yer a crack'a'th'skull.”
“Wull Oi wunt be gawn ena'ware nare har,” say Tottie, “Oi be abowt ter tearke a crock a soap back hum wi'me, an' Cook kin wistle fer'ut.”
“Yew'll ketch'ut wuss'n a crack'a'th'skull, if yew dew thet!” say Tilly, “Thas a'angin' a'fence, thet iz!”
“Thar orl sick ter dyin' a'tum,” say Tottie, storming owt wi' a large crock a'stew wrapped in wun a' Cook's biggest pudden clorths, “Oi hetta dew'ut, nobudda else iz a'gornta, ar'they?”
“Ware's thet gal a'gawn now?” say Cook, comin' in from th'butler's pantry.
“Hum ter feed th'sick,” say Tilly, “An' dunt yew durst cuss har, or yewl be screarpin' yer own wegetables fer th'Marsta's dinner.”
“Wot sick?” say Cook, igorin' th'uppity scullion, “Mill Cottages agin', Oi s'puz?”
“Tew dead las'noight,” say Tilly, “'Cordin' t'th'tweeny.”
“Thet dun't s'prize me,” say Cook, “Hevin' ter live in a stinkin' fludd 'arf th'toime.”
“Thet wunt fludded s'mawnin,” say Tilly, “Sumbudda rearz'd th'sluice.”
— • —
1.06.2 - Where's My View?
The Cottages in Mill Lane, Little Mardlingham are of much the same age and construction as Jarge's Sexton's Cottage, except that the same floor area has been divided up into four single room dwellings with dormered sleeping space in the lofts. Traditionally the inhabitants of these decaying cottages have drawn their water from either the mill pond or the leat on the far side of the lane from their front doors.
The leat, which acts as a bypass to the mill pond and the upsteam portion of the river held back by the mill dam, has a water-level about six foot below that of the mill pond. It is supposed to drain the lower-lying areas to the east of the dykes that channel the flow of the river towards the mill. To pass the mill dam it dives through a culvert under the lane where it approachs the mill. Unfortunately this culvert is badly built, even worse maintained and more than half filled with silt, rubbish and night-soil from the cottages. If there's a stink in that part of the village, this is the spot where it really takes your breath away. A similar situation is about to be noticed from the upper floor of The Big House:
“What in Hades has happened to my view!” roars Sir Marcus, gazing across the lawns at the reeking expanse of mud where his tamed and ornamental river should be. “Gawd's teeth and little fishes, but the miller will swing for this!”
“Ooooooo!” says th'up-stare maid as she drops th'breakfast tray and runs from th'room. She has no intention of being th'one “Ketchin'ut frum th'Marsta,” in lieu of th'miller.
“Wut'teva got inta yew?” say th'tweeny, as th'up-stare flup inta th'rum.
“Thet wunt moi faut!” says th'up-stare, “Can't trust th'Marsta wen hiz got a raw on'um.”
“Wuss meard him raw, then?” say th'tweeny, “th'speed yew run?”
“Sum squit abowt hiz silla owd river,” say th'up-stare, “Thas nut th'fust toime, neetha.”
“Steward!” calls th'Master, jangling th'bell, “Saddle my horse.”
“Oi can't see th'stu'rd dewin' that,” say th'tweeny, “Oi betta get down t'th'stearble and pass th'wud fer th'grum.”
— • —
1.06.3 - Bodies on the Common
“Wuz they orl ded?” say th'Grum, “th'gypsa a'th'bak a' th'common?”
“Th'blewbortle's seem ter think sOo,” say Ted, “Oi dint gOo tew nare. Wun orn'um was 'arf in th'bruk.”
“Marsta wunt hiz'oss,” say th'tweeny, harpin' acrorse th'yaard wavin' harsel' abowt loike a buttafloy, “Sune as yisterd'y.”
“Bit learte fer thet,” say Ted, bein' tew literal fer hiz own gud.
“Dunt yew durst duck wen Oi wunt t'gi' yer a ding a th'skul,” say th'tweeny.
“Come yew orn, Ted,” say th'Grum, “Pass th'tack and howd har hed.”
“Nut mine, fule,” say th'tweeny, “Oi hint yor hoss.”
“Well!” says Sir Marcus, storming into the stable, “Is she ready?”
“Jus' th'girth,” say th'Grum, suprisin' th'mare wi' a knuckle so he cud teark'ut in anutha notch.
“Wot kill'd'um? Oi meen th'gypsa up by th'common,” ask th'Grum, as th'Marsta canters owt a'th'stearble-yaard.
“Jimma say thas th'cholera,” say Ted, “Thas wot they hed 'n th'willage ware they las' come frum.”
— • —
1.06.4 - He Went and Did It
Mardlingham mill has an undershot wheel mounted in a separate wheelhouse that adjoins the east side of the main building. The head of water at the mill dam is just over six feet, which if managed with care allows the mill to work once or twice in a week. The Miller is very jealous of his head of water and watches the river flow and the effects of rainfall with close attention.
The upper reach of what is, in effect, the upstream extension of the mill pond passes through the grounds of The Big House. There it forms an ornamental feature in the landscape. Unfortunately with the flow reduced by the backing-up effect of the mill dam, this broad decorative stretch of water has silted up to within a foot of its ornamental banks. Even a modest lowering of the water-level converts this idyll into a stinking mudflat.
When Stan surreptitiously opened the sluice, he did not do so to enrage Sir Marcus by spoiling his view, but to flush away the detritus that was stinking up the Mill Lane end of the village. This was an idea equally surreptitiously planted in his head by Jarge who'd had it from the farm bailiff. The idea itself had originated in that telegram from Rosamunda's cousin Gregory, the antiquarian, the one that had so annoyed Sir Marcus. How the Bailiff got hold of the telegram is not known, but the man is renowned for the length of his nose:
“Yew sed Oi'd gawn an' dun'ut,” say Stan, “An' yew wuz roight. Oi seem ter hev fare dun'ut in a rare ol'way.”
“Wull,” say Jarge, “Yew wunt ter know thet th'hull culvert wud gOo.”
“Did th'jarb, rare prarpa,” say Jimma, “Nare tuk 'arf'a th'Mill Lane wi'rut. Nut ter menshun th'Wicar an' hiz cuz'n.”
“Wot wuz they dewin' thar a'thet toime a noight?” say Stan.
“Burnin' orl th'owd bedd'n an' stuff,” say Jarge, “In th'muddle a' th'rud.”
“Hev th'Wicar's susta still got orl th'cottage famlas in th'mill house?” say Bea.
“Thas wot Oi hard,” say Jimma, “Along'a missus Darsan frum Hum Farm, har darter, an' tew a'th'Scullies frum The Big House.”
“Wot abowt yew, Jimma?” say Stan, hew'd bin buzy wi' corfin wuk, “Dunt they still wunt yew down thar pullin' yar wate?”
“Oi dun moi bit, an' sad'nuff thet wuz tew,” say Jimma, “Deliv'run'um t' Jarge. We bin dewin' th'chuch-yaard wuk.”
“Look like thet maybe th'las' a'th'diggin',” say Jarge, “Leastways, a'th'chuch end a' th'willage.”
— • —
Author's Note - Too Many Cowled Figures
It was at this point in the saga, that The Hermit's trans-temporal spectre found itself unwelcome around the village. This was largely because some of the main characters felt unable to play their normally comedic roles, blaming the baleful influence of cholera and the Angel of Death. Hopefully, at a time of more favourable spectral influences, this part of the village history will be completed.
— • —
— • —
All Mardlingham characters are fictional
Copyright The Mundesley Hermit ©2006/2007 - All Rights Reserved.
