by Harve
 
                 My name is Susan Smythe.   I be 22 years old, and I  be working as a milk maid here on Squire Trelawney's dairy farm, in the County of Dorset.   It be my job to help out with the milking of the cows and anything else that comes up, such as delivery of milk to the local farms.    I love my job, although it can be really tough.   The worst part is carrying pails of milk, which have to be balanced on either side of my neck, hanging from a wooden contraption called a "yoke".    Sometimes I have to carry these pails several miles, and it be a very hard task.  Occasionally Squire Trelawney can spare a horse and cart for my milk deliveries, but often I have to carry the milk pails myself, with no help other than the wood yoke around my neck to support them.

                 Some folks call me "Simple Susan", because I can't read or write very well.    They also reckon I'm too trusting of other folks.    Well, be that as it may, but I does my job right.    I'm a big, healthy girl of some 14 stone and I  ain't scared of hard work, no Sir!    I be proud that I can carry a wooden yoke around my neck, with 2 pails of milk hanging from either side, for miles and miles without complaint.    None of the other girls can carry a delivery of fresh milk as far or as quick as I can.

                 The Squire called of us farm workers together last week, to warn about some slave traders he'd been advised about by the local Justice Of The Peace.     These slave traders were taking innocent folks prisoner, from all accounts, and shipping them off overseas in chains.    I don't believe these here stories myself - I mean, how can anyone be taken off in chains as a slave in the Year 1654, here in England?     I've heard of such tales going on in Africa, with long lines of natives chained together being taken into ships on the way to the Americas, but here in England - I asks you, how could it be?     We also hear of convicted felons being taken to ships bound for the Colony Of Australia in chains, but them's already convicted of crimes and they deserve whatever they gets, I reckons!    Honest folks like me don't need to fear such things, surely?
                 Today I had some real problems in the dairy shed.   Firstly, that lazy wench Sarah went sick with the ague, and I was left on my own to manage both milking and deliveries.   Then,  even worse, the wooden yoke I use to carry the pails of milk suddenly snapped in twain!    Forsooth, what was I to do, left on my own and worse - with nothing left to help me for carrying my heavy pails?    There weren't nothing to do, except carry the pails of milk by hand, which is an awful hard task on a warm day like today - but what choice did I have?    So, I set off up the lane carrying my 2 pails up to the Brown's house up the road, nearly 3 miles it were.     I'd reached the fork in the road, and stopped for a couple of minutes rest.   Like I said, it were a hot day, and them pails were getting heavier each minute, I swear!

                 I noticed a large cart approaching  from the other direction, pulled by two strong horses.    A very striking woman was driving the cart - she looked almost like a Romany Gypsy, being so swarthy yet with a fine figure, and very smartly dressed like a lady of substance.    She pulled up her cart alongside me, and bid me good day.   I replied in kind.    She said "My, you poor girl,  you look quite tired carrying those pails - do you have far to go with them?"     I replied "No, Ma'am, I done carried them already 2 miles and it's just one more mile to go - but when I get back to the dairy, I have 3 more deliveries to do".    She then offered me a drink of cool water from a bucket she was carrying in the cart, which I was grateful to accept.   Like I have said, it were a very warm day, and I was sweating a great deal.    We talked for a few minutes about this and that, and then she asked me why I didn't have a wooden yoke to carry the milk pails from, like all the dairy maids usually do.   "Well, Ma'am, I said, I usually do have a wooden yoke to help me carry them, but it's just broke this very afternoon.    So, here I am, in my long dress, struggling along carrying the pails by hand."   "What do they call you, lass?" said the Lady.    "I be Susan Smythe", I replied, "but some folks call me "Simple Susan" for reasons I don't understand - maybe I'm a bit too friendly or summat?"    "Oh, wench", she replied, "there's nothing wrong with being too friendly in this world - after all, if we can't help each other, what else are we here for?  Come up here and sit besides me on the cart, and rest for a while - I am Madam Romana, but you can call me "Lady" as all my friends do.     So, that I did, and we talked some more about dairy farming and the like, while I quaffed some more of the cool water she had.
                 Then I noticed a strange unusual wooden device stowed at the side of the cart.   It looked a bit like the wooden yoke I carried my milk pails from, but it was a lot more, well  - "complicated".    For a start, it were much bigger and heavier.    Secondly, the part that seemed to be designed to go around the wearer's neck, had a covering hinged metal strap.    Lastly, instead of just a couple of hooks at each far end of the yoke to hang the milk pails from, there were short lengths of chains with rounded iron brackets at the ends.    I has to tell you, I was real intrigued about this here device!     Why was it so similar to what I normally carried my milk pails from, but so much more - difficult?     Lady Romana noticed I was looking closely at the yoke-like contraption, and suddenly said "Susan, my dear - I have the very solution for you to carry your milk pails from - now why didn't I think of it before?   It's one of the latest milk-carrying yokes from France, that we collected just a few months back, and here I am not even noticing it while you're having to struggle with those milk pails!     I am such an imbecile, forgetting what hard work you have while here is the answer to your problems.   Would you like to try it out?"

                 Well, I couldn't wait to try out this here French yoke, and Lady Romana was so helpful in putting it around my neck.    It was very nicely made and certainly much heavier than the one I usually wore for my local milk deliveries.    Lady Romana explained that was why it had the hinged metal strap to fit around the neck, with even a padlock to hold it there.    She was even kind enough to find such a strong padlock to secure it properly!   Then, I asked her how the milk pails would be secured to the ends of this "French Yoke", bearing in mind it had those short lengths of chain plus the iron brackets instead of the usual hooks.    "Oh, my dear", said Lady Romana,  "those French people are very clever, you know - the rounded brackets go around the wearer's wrists, to help support them while they are carrying the heavy weights of the milk pails.    Don't you think that it's such a better idea than just a couple of hooks?"     Well, of course, how could she be wrong, her being an educated Lady and all?   It didn't take her very long to fit the rounded iron brackets around my wrists, and secure them with small padlocks.    She was so helpful, but I was getting a bit worried that I didn't seem to be able to move around very much, especially with the milk pails nearby.   I asked Lady Romana just how I was supposed to lift up the milk pails myself, with my wrists in the iron brackets, and she laughed and said "Oh, Susan, don't you know - just close your eyes for a minute and it'll all become clear to you, my dear".

                 So, I closed my eyes for a minute and waited for things to clear up.    I don't know about them clearing up, because I could almost immediately feel a strange chill around my ankles, just like as if cold iron was being applied around them.   I tried to move my legs sideways but it seemed there was a heavy chain joining my ankles.   I was getting a bit frightened by then, but didn't want to seem rude to Lady Romana who had been so kind with this new French yoke and everything.     Then, a tight feeling suddenly came around my mouth just as if a horse bridle had been stuck into it.   Of course, I shrieked with pain but nothing really came out - just a sort of "mmmppppphhh".

                  There was nothing I could do by then to escape my confinement.    Even when I opened my eyes, it was no good - I could see nothing because I had been hooded, also.    Now, I could not talk, see, move my legs more than a few inches, or move my hands which were chained to the ends of the yoke around my neck.    I realised what a fool I had been, a really gullible "catch" for Lady Romana.   As I did my best to scream for help, I heard a few whispers in my ear from Lady R. in her lovely cultured accent - "Susan, my dear, don't struggle - you are now a slave.    Accept it, or you will be whipped severely.    Remember, never stop for a cool drink in the heat of summer, whatever the temptation - ha! ha! ha!".

                  The horse and cart picked up speed and we went for at least a couple of hours at a brisk pace.   As I've said, I could see nothing due to the hood over my head, so I had no idea where we were.    We suddenly stopped, and strong male arms assisted me out of the cart.   I could not resist, with my arms attached to dangling chains from the yoke, and leg shackles around my ankles.  It were all I could do to stumble along in the direction my captors wanted me to follow.    I could smell ozone and hear the lap of waves.   It was clear we were close to the sea.    I was directed along a gangplank down into a ship's hold, and finally my hood was removed, along with my mouth bridle.   However, although I could now see, and talk at last,  there was no chance of escape - my yoke was now chained directly to the wall of the hold.    My captors had also attached the chains on my ankles to a ringbolt on the floor.   I was totally restrained - there was no getting away.

                We sailed on the tide that night.    What fate awaits me, dear Reader?     I don't know, as I luy here chained.    Am I to become the slave of an Arab Sheikh, perchance?   Or, maybe just a worker in the fields in the New Americas, delivering milk in pails to the Folks in neighbouring farms, close to what I did before?     Whatever it turns out to be, I shall NEVER accept a drink from a Romany Lady in a passing horse and cart ever again ......."
 

"HARVE"