Tax and Tithe

Well people, I’m stumped.  I saw a post with a picture of Castle Combe, “the prettiest town in England”.  I’m sure it was a prompt for a writing challenge.  After having written my challenge, I searched for the website to link my story.  For the life of me, I can’t find it.  I looked at 100 WC and Friday Fictioneers, but alas it wasn’t there.  I promise you I am not on cheap drugs, or expensive ones for that matter.  I am going to post the story regardless.  Enjoy it!

     The walk from our fields in the Cotswolds to the Market Cross at Castle Combe was twelve miles.  Father and I had four bundles of wool to carry and he worried that we wouldn’t get a spot on the Buttercross to show our wares.  We always got our asking price on the Buttercross, the only way we’d have anything left after tax and tithe.  As was our custom, we offered a prayer at St. Andrews church, “Sancte Gregore ora pro nobis.”

     Once we left the church father always said, “Damn Sir John Fastolfe! Tax and tithe be damned too!”

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3 Comments

  1. jfb57 said,

    May 26, 2012 at 11:14 am

    Oh what a great piece to write as a mistake. you have captured Castle Coombe well because the Buttercross dominates the centre. Well done!

    • prosingon said,

      May 26, 2012 at 11:18 am

      Thanks alot Julia, you’re an angel for not laughing. I love Wikkipedia!

  2. rich said,

    May 23, 2012 at 5:59 pm

    father knows best.


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