The Lost Children of York
Opening, Excerpt 1, The Lost Children of York by Susan Basso McCauley
Through the darkness . . .
Children’s laughter eerily fills the air, with intermittent, almost inaudible sobs floating amid the breeze.
FADE IN:
EXT. HULL, ENGLAND – EVENING
Title: Hull, 1637
The ocean waves crash upon the rocky coast. From a house in the distance, a boy cries out in pain.
INT. MARTIN’S CHILDHOOD HOUSE – EVENING
YOUNG MARTIN, age 11, is bent over grasping a table near the hearth. The boy’s face is beaded with perspiration, tears roll down his cheeks.
MARTIN’S FATHER lashes Young Martin two more times.
Quivering, Young Martin, remains frozen with fear and pain as his father tosses the lashing belt down near the fire, then seats himself heavily in a chair.
MARTIN’S FATHER
That’ll do, boy. You’ll never be stealin’ food from me again.
The man kicks the back of the boy’s leg so he collapses on the floor.
MARTIN’S FATHER (CONT’D)
Will you, Martin?
Young Martin slowly rises.
YOUNG MARTIN
No, sir.
MARTIN’S FATHER
Good, lad. Now go outside.
Martin’s Father takes a long drink from a bottle of whisky as Young Martin slowly makes his way outside.
EXT. SMALL GRAVE YARD – MOMENTS LATER
Young Martin collapses on the grave of his mother: ELAINE BLAKE.
His back is bleeding through his shirt, and his tears have not ceased falling.
YOUNG MARTIN
(mumbling through his tears)
Mother . . . Mother!
He folds himself up onto his mother’s grave, crying.
CUT TO:
EXT. YORK – EVENING
Title: York, Spring 1665
On the outskirts of York, a field sways and trees flutter in the late spring breeze.
Through the field, a house comes into view.
CHILDREN (V.O.)
“O Lord, support us all the day long, until the shadows lengthen, and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then in thy mercy, grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last. Amen.”
SUSANNA (V.O.)
Very good, children, very good. You must never forget to say your prayers.
THOMAS (V.O.)
Does God always hear our prayers, mother?
SUSANNA
Yes, Thomas. He hears every one.
(Excerpt 2, The Lost Children of York by Susan Basso McCauley, pages 36-38)
INT. PARISH CHURCH OF YORK – DAY
Nicholas is at prayer. Suffering greatly, he recites Psalm 121.
NICHOLAS
“. . . The Lord himself is thy keeper; the Lord is thy
defense upon thy right hand; So that the sun shall
not burn thee by day, neither the moon by night . . .”
The Dean silently enters.
NICHOLAS (CONT’D)
“. . . The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil; yea, it is even he that shall keep thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out, and thy coming in, from this time forth for evermore. Amen.”
DEAN
(not waiting for him to rise)
She is dead?
Nicholas rises, his face gaunt and tear stained.
NICHOLAS
Aye. God rest her soul.
DEAN
The child will be sent to another parish. I shall arrange it in your time of grief. Martin shall be informed that his stipend will be reduced for the deaths of his wife and son.
Nicholas rages at his uncle, nearly pinning him to the wall of the church.
NICHOLAS
Are you so removed that you’ll not shed a tear for your own niece? She who cared for you in your time of great illness?
DEAN
Death is the price of sin.
NICHOLAS
Then she should have lived a life five times as long!
DEAN
Do not rage at me, child. I accept her death. It is
DEAN (CONT’D)
the price we all pay for life.
NICHOLAS
I know the scripture, Uncle.
DEAN
Then do not question God’s will.
NICHOLAS
Is it his will that you do not mourn her?
DEAN
I do not need answer to you for my grievances. I trust God’s plan. He will be just.
From a small purse, the Dean takes several coins and gives them to Nicholas.
DEAN (CONT’D)
Give this to Martin, that it might make the winter easier for them.
Nicholas stares at the money in his palm for a moment, then exits.
Excerpt 3, The Lost Children of York by Susan Basso McCauley, pages 42-44
INT. MARTIN’S HOUSE – CHILDREN’S BEDROOM – NIGHT
Pale winter moonlight shines through the children’s window.
It is a crowded loft room with two beds of thistledown. Peter, Henry, and Paul are snuggled closely in one bed, and squeezed against the opposite wall, Martha curls up alone on a smaller thistledown pallet on a makeshift bed frame.
The wind howls outside and rattles the window panes; a tree branch scrapes against the house.
The children shiver.
PAUL
Martha . . .
The wind answers her.
PAUL (CONT’D)
(with heightened fear)
Martha! Are you awake?
MARTHA
Shhh . . . What is it? You don’t want to wake up Mister Blake.
Paul gets out of bed and patters over to Martha.
PAUL
I’m cold. Can I sleep with you?
Martha sits up.
MARTHA
(whispering)
Go back to bed.
PAUL
(beginning to cry)
But, Mar . . .
PETER
Stop him, Martha! He’s going to wake him up.
HENRY
Don’t make him angry, Paul.
PETER
Coward.
MARTHA
Quiet, the both of you!
Martha throws back the covers for Paul to climb in with her.
HENRY
You know you’re not supposed to.
PAUL
(looking back over his shoulder)
Why not?
PETER
Because the boys aren’t allowed to sleep with the girls.
PAUL
But she’s my sister. And, mother used to let us.
PETER
Well your mother’s not here!
Paul begins to whimper.
MARTHA
Hurry now, get in; it’s cold.
PAUL
Not if you’re going to leave me.
PETER
Stop his whining.
MARTHA
(hushing but irritated)
Peter!
Martha snuggles Paul next to her and rocks him back and forth while stroking his hair. They whisper.
PAUL
You won’t leave me, will you, Martha?
MARTHA
No.
PAUL
Promise?
MARTHA
I promise. Now go to sleep.
The wind and windows continue to moan in discordant harmony.
As Paul and Martha settle into sleep, Henry silently creeps out of bed. (Henry, once slightly robust, has grown gaunt.)
As one of the floorboards creaks, Henry stops in his tracks.
