Chapter 5
The next morning found them on their feet. Rising before dawn, they continued their journey north. If all went well, they would be at the edge of the moors by afternoon. One might think that traversing the remaining distance across the Bramham Moor would be effortless as the last leg of their journey. But, this would prove to be far from true. In any part of England, the moors were always believed to be places where evil took its rest. Travelers disappeared on a regular basis as they strayed from the roads into the empty murkiness, but, Aiden's parents were as reasonable as they were God-fearing and placed no stock in the stories of dark treachery that were said to take place on the moors, of witches and strange creatures dancing beneath the light of the moon to the rhythms of unearthly melodies, perhaps played by the devil's own dark symphony.
It was mid-afternoon when they arrived at the southern bank of the River Aire. Its waters ran grayish brown as they wound their way around the edge of the moors. Places like this could not be farmed. They were nothing more than desolate wastelands whose only use was for the digging of peat. And no one ever traveled them at night, alone or with others. Even the highwaymen stayed clear, not wanting to fall victim to the shapeless creatures said to haunt their empty nocturnal landscapes. Stopping at the river's edge, an old adversary reared its ugly head. Hunger. But Aiden's father was now prepared and having saved a portion of the previous night's meal, dispensed it to his family, giving Aiden slightly more. He had not spoken a word since discovering his parent's intention to give him up, but he thought about it constantly. He was very young but had seen godly men commit ungodly acts, usually in the name of God. He had not yet learned that there was a clear difference between the practice of religion and that of Christian virtues. Yet, he had witnessed it and found it confusing. He was left wondering just who these people were. Did his parents know them personally or simply by reputation?
They sat on the riverbank, eating their cold meager leftovers. It somehow took the edge off their hunger but did nothing to offer them any real nourishment. Aiden and his mother continued to sit, resting their weary bodies as his father stood up and surveyed the area, studying the river in both directions. As a merchant, he had passed through the moors on his way to Scotland and knew that the nearest bridge was downriver, east of Rawcliffe.
"River's too wide here," he said. "We'll have to go east."
Although the tide was at its lowest, the widest part of a river is usually it's deepest. But, it didn't take long for Aiden's father to find a narrow stretch of river, shallow enough to cross safely. He took Aiden up in his arms and his wife by the hand, and walking carefully around the rocks led them across the river. Once on the other side, his father scanned the area for anything that might pass for a single night of shelter.
They walked towards the tree line where the ground was dry. The moors were notorious for their peaty soil and after heavy rain, a fully grown man could easily be pulled down to the waste, should he wander too close to one of its many bogs. As they walked, Aiden's father noticed something among the trees. It wasn't any shape that would be created by nature and so brought as much curiosity as it did caution. One thing was certain. They needed to stop for the night and if the strange shape in the woods could be used as a shelter, there would be no choice but to take advantage of it. And the sky was beginning to grow heavy. A certain sign of approaching weather.
Every step seemed to reveal more of its shapes and detail until finally, it stood out as a small hut. It had been built with hand cut bricks of peat and roofed with layers of sod. But still, from a distance, the one thing that could not yet be seen were its occupants. Most people live on the edge of survival and visitors were rare. And when there were guests, they were often not of the friendly sort. But as they neared the hut, Aiden's father stopped them and walked on ahead towards its open doorway. He called out quietly, hoping for, at least, a civilized response. But, not only was there no answer, there was nothing. Not a word. Not a sound. The silence was disturbing to the point of terror. Peeking around the edge of the doorway, he discovered the small peat shelter to be abandoned and letting out a sigh of relief, entered what was once someone's home.
His assessment was brief. It was empty. Except for a few small holes in the roof, the hut was in good condition. With enough work, it could offer permanent shelter. But, they wouldn't be staying for more than a night and considering the lengthy process for building such shelter, he wondered why anyone would abandon it. Perhaps, living on the edge of the moors proved too harsh. Any area heavy in peat was unable to support farming and ordinarily didn't attract much in the way of game. Waving Aiden and his mother over, he indicated that the hut was safe.
"I think we'll be fine here," he said. "At least for the night."
Aiden stood silently in the doorway as his mother made her own assessment. "Why do you suppose they left?" she asked.
His father began inspecting the holes in the roof. There were only a few and mostly towards the back.
"The land's rotten," he answered. "Nothing grows in the moors."
She had heard her husband's words, but they pale in comparison to what her fear led her to suspect.
"Do you think they may have been driven out?" she asked.
She had heard the stories during her childhood. Legends passed down from old to young of dark spirits drifting through the trees, across the open expanse of the night's sinister scene. Whether beneath the glow of the moon, or a turbulent sky of impending heavenly racket, the devil always seemed to be a play, forging new menaces to torture the minds of those who believed in such unearthly malignancies. And their beliefs, being of such force, were often what pushed them from their homes, running from nothing more than thin air and a ranting imagination.
Aiden and his parents settled into the small structure as afternoon turned to evening. And with it, came rain. It always seemed to be raining in England, the sky a constant gunmetal gray. But, the moors fell victim to a different kind of rain. And as the Selwyn family prepared for what could be a long night, a darkness suddenly overtook their senses. They all felt it as though heaven and hell were preparing to do battle on the very ground outside the small hut. And it began with a faint rumble as the sky turned to steel. There were those given to superstition, who would say that a storm of such magnitude arrived as an expression of God's wrath, that someone had deeply offended Him, in deeds, words or simply intent.
The sky transformed itself from gray to black as the edge of the storm crept across the moors. It's shadow appearing as the foot of a giant, suspended in the air before leaving its destructive image in the earth. Moments later, the rain came. Its arrival was sudden and brought with it a clamber reminiscent of the sounds of battle. Thunder peeled through the moors as lightning carved its brilliant crooked cracks across the dark and turbulent sky. The storm raged like an angry monster, with an intensity that left Aiden clinging tightly to his mother's waist. Sitting on the ground, she held him on her lap, knowing that sometime the next day she would have to say goodbye to her only child and that she would never see him again.
The storm roared as night fell. Aiden's father had attempted several times to start a small fire, just enough to keep them warm. But, the holes in the roof had begun to let in rain and the wind funneled its way into the door-less hut, repeatedly extinguishing the opportunity for even a small bit of warmth and comfort. And yet, the rain continued throughout the night, startling Aiden awake several times with its clatter and loud shrieking wind. There would be neither warmth nor comfort for anyone that night as the ground beneath them also became saturated with water. However, there was, for Aiden, one measure of primal consolation. He had the warmth of his mother's body. But like the passing storm, this too was temporary and he knew full well that the next day would see the bond they shared with her shatter as he would be forced to surrender himself to the harshness of monastic life and the absoluteness of God's will.