It was midday. The two men shivered as the spent fireside flames had turned to smouldering embers.
“There’s a bloody chill in the air, Thomas. I’ll call for more coal, otherwise we’ll be joining your brother tonight. This damned cold winter cuts through you like the icy hand of death itself,” said Ned.
With the black gold nourishing the embers’ hunger, the hot flames soon warmed the companions’ trembling extremities, bathing them in a heart-warming glow.
The last item lay insignificantly on the floor of the box. It had been folded with such care; each fold parallel with the next and the whole tightly bound with black satin ribbon. Thomas carefully untied its neat bow and steadily unfolded the document, its parchment new and pliable.
In the subdued light of candle and hearth he read aloud the testament. It was certainly the most poignant of all the items they had found.
IN THE NAME OF GOD AMEN the first day of February in the eleventh year of the reign of our sovereign William the Third by the grace of God of England and Ireland and the Second of Scotland King defender of the faith and in the year of our Lord God one thousand seven hundred. I Benjamin Bridgewater of Cock Lane in the City of London gent being sick of body but of good and perfect memory thanks be unto almighty God do ordain and make this my last will and testament in manner and form following. That is to say first and before all things I commit my soul into the merciful hands of God the father my maker to Jesus Christ my redeemer and the Holy Ghost my comforter my body I commend unto the earth from whence it came to be buried in the parish church of Christ Church Newgate. I give and bequeath unto Thomas Bridgewater my brother any personal chattels I may own at my death other than bequeathed hereto and whom I ordain and make my sole Executor of this my last will and testament. Item, I give and bequeath unto my cousin Nathaniel Bridgewater my sylver tankard parcell gylt. I appoint Edward Samuel Drinkingwell overseer of this my last will and testament hoping that he will have a care to see that my last will and testament be performed according to the trust in him. In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal the day and year first above written. Benjamin Bridgewater Sealed and delivered in the presence of John Dunton and Elijah Jackson. My meaning and intention that such bequests which I have given and bequeathed to be delivered with all convenient speed by my Executor.
They sat quiet and reflective for a moment before Ned broke the silence.
“Overseer! I’m named as an Overseer, by a notable man of letters. Well, I never! I’m fair taken aback he mentions me at all, but it’s there in black and white for all to see, Overseer! I mean that’s an important job for the likes of me is it not, Thomas? I mean to say an Overseer is appointed to make sure the deceased’s last wishes are carried out in a right and proper manner. That’s what an Overseer does; he takes care of overseeing, that’s right is it not, Thomas?” Ned said all this with an excited air of authority.
“Yes, Ned. You are an Overseer of my brother’s Will.” said Thomas, “And why so surprised? You are an upstanding citizen of Newgate and as such Benjamin has entrusted you to the task. And a damned fine job you will make of it, ensuring that I carry out his wishes to the best of my ability.”
“I mean, Dunton’s name’s upon it. But he’s not an Overseer, is he?” said Ned.
“No, Ned. He’s just a lowly witness to it all, which proves one thing. He and Benjamin must have sorted out their differences and become friends once more, even though it was short lived.”
“He must have known he was dying, poor beggar, to go to the trouble of making a Will, and only a month since,” said Ned.
“Poor beggar indeed. And a lonely one too.” said Thomas, “Night after night in his squalid garret, dwelling on his mortality. He must have been desperate and in more dire need of love and affection from someone, anyone, than at any other time during his life. What a sad ending, when brothers no longer love and respect each other, as it was with us. He did the wrong, and it was for him to show respect and put it right, but alas he never found that path. Pride is too strong in man, Ned, and to forgive is a quality rare in most. If only... are words we mortals often think on.”
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An Apology for the Life of Benjamin Bridgewater (1663-1700) #Wattys2014
Short Story"His genius was very rich, and ran much upon poetry, in which he excelled. But alas! In the issue. Wine and Love were the ruin of this ingenious Gentleman." John Dunton (1659 - 1733) English bookseller and author, writing of Benjamin Bridgewater. I...
