On the whole the 'handover' I received from my predecessor, Canon Albert, was frank, full and fair. Parishioners across the land may be faintly shocked to learn that it is a clerical habit to keep a Book of Record that is prepared for the eventual time of one's leaving a post, in order to inform the incomer of the likely pitfalls and challenges he (or now she) may face.
Be not though too alarmed, this B of R is not a list of misdemeanours or worse committed by one's flock - a prelude to that we all shall face when St. Peter calls us to hear him read from one's own Book of Life - it is more a 'map' to guide the novice and to steer him/her from gross error:
Colonel X - good charity giver, but avoid Seamans' Missions as his father had an unfortunate and fatal encounter with a pedalo when taking a dip at Scarborough
Mrs B - will always volunteer to do the baking. Never in any circumstance accept her offer, but steer her towards tea-making instead. Her 'salmonella slices' are legendary and lethal!
Young M - too pious for his own good. Tell him he should get out more.
...That sort of thing. Infused, actually, with Xtian charity aimed at saving people from themselves and, therefore, entirely congruent with one's main duties as a parson. Much like a doctor's first rule of thumb: do no harm. (A somewhat ironic metaphor in the current circumstances you'll shortly be discovering.)
Imagine then my surprise when good Doctor Thompson telephoned last evening to enquire whether I would be attending next week's Blood Letting ceremony, and did I have any thoughts on suitable prayers for the occasion as Canon Albert's rendition of Psalm CXVIII - all 176 verses of it - had been thought a trifle over-bearing last time!
Now I may not be the shiniest apple in the cart, but I did read the aforementioned B of R with due diligence - twice in fact in my first three months just to be sure I had it all to hand as needed - and could recall no mention of anything to do with Blood, let alone the Letting of it! As the old fossil is now semi-gaga in St. Martha's Rest Home for Retired Clergy, there doesn't seem much chance I can ask him why the silence on this critical matter.
I will attempt to pop over to try and grill him for some gen before next week, but I doubt my visit will be fruitful and in the meanwhile I shall have to rely on my native wits and such briefing as Doc T was able to provide. Doc T, mercifully, is apparently an old Blood Letting hand and has the whole thing at his command.
From his telling of it this is more or less the full SP on the matter:
Slightly over a hundred years ago - quite recent by our slow-moving rural take on time - there was a particularly nasty falling out between local two families involving the title to some land, a pair of 'star-crossed lovers' and a brace of pheasants - reared by one family and shot by the other. (Pheasants that is not lovers.) Quite typical of its kind and generally nowadays no more than a fond memory.
This particular falling out, though, had evolved into a full-blown feud with recorded poisoning of wells, at least two crimes of arson and, sadly, the death of no fewer than four of the principals in circumstances deemed at the time highly suspicious.
The lay authorities and the civil courts proving incapable either of imposing peace or of catching let alone condemning the culprits, finally turned the whole thing over to the Church to resolve as best it could. Endless sermons on the general theme of 'Love - or if not that then not slaughter - thy neighbour' were preached to little avail; cohorts of clergy were dispatched as flying emissaries between the warring factions but with no good outcome; anathemas, even, were invoked on both sides yet no change in behaviour.
And thus it continued unabated for decades, until at last some bright spark came up with the notion that, as it was impossible to stop the two families taking retribution upon retribution, the better option would be to seek rather to keep the whole thing within tolerably acceptable levels of violence that would allow them to get on with it without burdening the parish or the coroner with extra fret or duties.
This solution, it appears, was acceptable to both parties. They had themselves become wearied of losing sleep and relatives over this matter and were perfectly content to agree that the actual fighting should be reduced to a symbolic act of violence once every four years. This path permitted each side to continue to pursue their eternal feud, to which they were bound by familial allegiance, without actually interfering with their daily lives. (A proper English compromise and much like, it must be said, most people's ordinary relationship with the Church as a whole!)
The Ceremony of the Blood Letting - as it became known - was to occur in the third week of December. Hardly conducive to a good Advent spirit of course, but chosen because it was the anniversary of the death of patriarch D, whose fatal fall from his horse was attributed either to the dodgy Dutch gin he had been sold by an adherent of the other side or by simple witchcraft. (The coroner's verdict on that occasion had left both options open, simply recording that patriarch D had died from 'a surfeit of bad spirits.')
Early versions of the Ceremony had involved padded fighters poking each other with swords until one or other of the contenders had drawn blood, at which point honour was deemed to be satisfied and all repaired to the Dragon Inn for rabbit pate and rum. (Seems they took their keynote for this from duelling German students of the time - though I'm not sure rabbit pate is big in Bavaria.)
Latterly even this level of assault was allowed to diminish, until the present ritual was established that a pin should be used to prick the thumb of each fighter, a drop of blood was drawn from both and the duel declared a tie. (This of course is where Doc T came in to be of service with his sterilised needles and to perform this little surgical act on behalf of the two families. Plain against his medical ethics and likely to be taken a dim view of by the GMC should they ever find out, but again a working and a safe compromise.)
My role as representative of the Church is to invoke a blessing on the whole affair - a sort of holy amnesty from sin - and to judge that blood having been given for blood peace once more should reign in all our hearts for the next four years. Nothing in my seminary training has prepared me for this I can assure you! My instincts are all against this and the possibility of a stand being taken is with me. Time to ponder and reflect on the most effectively eirenic, yet conscience salving, approach to take.
Who, I finally enquired of the good Doctor, are the actual combatants this time? His answer came as a shock but, on consideration, no great surprise. Maurice and Mildred are to be the chosen champions! I should have guessed, there has always been an underlying tension whenever the two meet and it has been noticeable that if ever one is for a particular course of action then the other is inevitably implacably opposed.
There is no sign of personal animosity in this, however, and you couldn't ask for a couple to be more socially charming each to the other. But there beneath it all lies - as I now know - a great rural tradition of civil strife, feuds held dear and cherished over generations, and now the prospect of actual physical conflict of a kind between them.
Time for a singularly large malt and a re-read of Canon Albert's prompts for clues as to what best to do!
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