The Tale of the Old Mill

T'was a bright and sunny Sunday, and I woke with a slight throb in my head. I had spent the night before quaffing ale with Brother Dan, and Brother Matthias which whom I had previously been initiates with from the Abbey of Aberystwyth. Both of my former cell-mates had expressed a urge to seek the holy pie with our enclave in Leamington Spa. They had both travelled down from northern climes and we ready to spent the weekend on the hunt. After a hearty breakfast we all donned our cloaks of the road and stout shoes and waited patiently for Brother Paul to arrive from his lodging house. Soon he entered bringing the news that we were instructed by the Abbot himself to conduct Brother Jonathan on his first quest as a novitiate. We left the house and made north, towards the gathering place where Brother Jonathan was to be found. On the way be stopped at a local market to procure promisary notes from the Abbot, and to fill our canteens with water. Brother Paul was in high spirits and entertained us all with his knowledge of highland jigs and dances. Many a local wagoneer stopped to compliment him on his fine movements.    
 
Very soon we left the outskirts of the town heading north, and at once we were in the wildes of open country. Crossing a tumbledown fence we proceeded along a little-used path. It was soon that we came to a crossroads and there was much dispute as to the way to walk.

"Fear not!", cried Brother Benjamin, "for the lady of the pie will guide us. Let us sit here amongst the dandelions and pray for guidance".

And thus was it so, and very soon Initiate Jonathan sprung to his feet and cried "I have had a vision, a lady carrying meaty tray and overflowing jug didst point to the left in my mind".
"Praise be the pie!", we all cried, and turned left without a moments hesitation. Passing a garden of tended hedges and over a road of wood and iron, we found ourselves amongst fields of yellow seed.
Joining a busy cart-track will made fun of counting the wagoneers and their horses that passed us by. O what rapture the day had brought us.

The path grew long, and winding. Many more carts passed us, showering us with dirt and grime, yet no respite from the road did we find. Turning a bend in the road we came across swampy woodland, where the run off from the previous month's heavy downpours had congregated into slimy pools. Brother Paul suggested a dip, to which i dutifully declined. The officer of cronicler of the quest is sometimes a heavy burden to bear. Turning off the road we made our way into a small village. The homesteads here were large and the grounds extensive. Brother Paul located a tree that seemed to be blessed with a handle. On the otherside of the town we found a group of nobles engaged in a rather unusual past time. It involved taking a hazel cutting and fashioning it into a long staff and fastening a rectangular iron base to one end. The staff was swung in a large arch, sending a small wooden ball flying into the air. Conversing with one of the nobles I discovered this sport was called 'Expanse' and I though the name fit well enough, after all the game play played in an immense field of grass and areas where sand was sprinkled in circular patches. I remain doubt however, as to whether the game will ever catch on..   
   
It was at this point that we met a traveller on the road. We first spied him in the near distance, striding manfully with walking staff in-hand. It had been many leagues since we left the comfort of the Abbey and many of us were sore of feet and dry of mouth. We made all haste to seek the traveller out and enquired of him whether he'd be kind enough to point us in the direction of the local tavern.

"Why", cried he, "there is a good ale house, not 3 miles distance. Follow yonder path and descend onto flowing river. Follow this and you'll find yourself in sight of a village, and on the other side is the tavern of which I speak". Wringing his hand with gusto, we made forth and soon found ourselves in sight of the river. The trees at it's edge seemed to waive at us beckoning us forward and towards the end of our holy quest.

The traveller was as good as his word. Passing along the river and up a heavily flower'ed verge, we found ourselves looking a venerable old church.

"Come", cried Brother Paul, "for here is something unseen before! Behold the wooden mushroom.", and sure enough there was the curiously fashioned item in the grounds of the graveyard. We took this as an excellent indication that we were nearing the end of our quest. We passed through the village and were invited to meat roasting festival by the local inhabitants, refusing however we continued our journey. It must have been another mile, and confidence in the traveller's words were beginning to be doubted by some of the party. Turning a corner we at last beheld the fable alehouse and without a further moment scampered indoors. The first port of call was the menu, and indeed there was pie. Blessed is the pastry!

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