'Tis with heavy heart that I put ink to paper and write of my last days in Archet,
Wil and I ad a good life together, we lived in a small 'ouse just off the market square. We weren't rich but comfy like, we worked all our lives, I as a washerwoman and Wil found work where he could mainly up at the hunting lodge.
'E would come 'ome every evening, to a glowin' fire and a pot o rabbit stew and me special dumpling. "Igerne old girl," he would say, "Yer know the way to a mans 'eart" and he would pat his belly and laugh and laugh! Ohh 'ow it warmed me heart to hear 'im.
On a sunday we would take a picnic in the meadow over Brownes folly way. and sum nights we would sup a half together in the 'mad badger' up the road, he would tell his stories and have us all wide eyed and mouth agape at his antics!
He were a good man, and we 'ad a good life.
We'd heard rumours of the Blackwold's, comings and goings, but we dun thought it were just that ... a rumour.
Then one night I woke to the sounds of screaming! the room were dark, and full o smoke, Wil shook me and said.."Igerne! IGERNE! Get ee up! The house is on fire!"
I tried to get up I tried to move, but the walls were hot and full o flame and I could get no air, black smoke filled my eyes. I began to cough and choke. Suddenly I was in Wil's arms, I could feel him, his breathing were ragged too, he somehow stumbled through the door and outside. We tumbled in a heap together.
The night was full of people screaming for help, other houses burned. Wil was hunched over, I stood up still coughing and looked around at the awful sight.
"Oh Wil, whatever shall we do?" But Wil did not answer, I turned and saw my handsome Wil laying dead afore me feet...
