My family come from Yorkshire. There’s still a place up there that’s named after us, just a minor forest, nothing too grand and indeed you’ll be hard-pressed to find a tree there these days but that’s another story. It’s now part of Huddersfield, a small suburb that can be passed through without comment.
The rot set in about 1215. One of my relatives ran off with the local Sheriff’s daughter. It was a real love match, well John Lockwood was besotted but that’s the way it is in my family. She seemed willing enough at first but that changed after a while (and I’ve heard of that as well). All this seems so familiar; clearly it’s all in the genes. A Lockwood male falls in love, runs away with his dream, and seems set upon a life of domestic bliss. Given time the woman shows just how fickle she can be, and the union tends to fall apart.
It’s happened so many times it’s a wonder the male Lockwood line still exists. As I write this particular Lockwood line is in serious danger of decline, as son shows no sign of wishing to procreate. Stop to think about that for a while and you will realise that Darwin got it all wrong.
It’s not survival of the fittest, but rather the weak and devious ones who manage to procreate. That’s one reason why there are not so many Lockwood’s around. Fortune does not favour the brave.
Think of John Lockwood with his common wife swept away by desire, closely followed by the irate father and his posse of submissive villains. This was surely one of the greatest love stories of all time. The Sheriff’s daughter had given up so much to be with her John, but probably he had seemed a better catch than that vagabond of Sherwood Forest. After all John’s family owned the woods, they didn’t just live in them nor were they vassal to any man, least of all Sheriff Hudder. John managed to evade the Sheriff for many months, so enough time passed to ensure that another little Lockwood was brought into the world. But John’s luck finally ran out.
We are not sure how they were discovered but found they were. John decided to fight for his love. He was not going to allow a wicked father to wrest away his beloved. A fight began that lasted for hours. Slowly John broke down the opposition, picking off the posse one by one with the skilful use of his long bow. All the time he was urging his lovely lady to stay behind him to guard over their lovely new son and heir.
At last the Sheriff came into view. John shouted aloud, glad at last that the fight was about to come to reach its climax. Slowly he pulled back the shaft of the arrow in his bow, taking careful aim. This was one shot that must hit its target. By removing this curse he would be able to enjoy the rest of his life with the family he loved.
Just as he was about to loose the arrow his lovely woman crept up behind him and cut the string of his bow! John soon saw the significance of her treacherous act. It’s one that has been repeated many times since by Lockwood women, and probably had been the curse of many of John’s forebears. Unlike lesser men he wasted no time upon retribution but instead thought of the future. Clasping his fragile child to his breast he prepared to flee, but that is not the way of any Lockwood. He could not resist one last shout at the arrogant figure who was even then drawing back his own bow preparing to fire at John.
John turned, an abusive phrase on his lips as the arrow struck him in the chest. It passed through his precious baby on its way to his pounding heart. Both father and son fell to the ground, dead.
After that the Lockwood family could no longer live beside the slayer of their bloodline. The Sheriff claimed the field where John was slain as his own. It is there still today, Huddersfield, now grown fat upon the riches of its close neighbour, Lockwood.
My family just wanted to get away, anywhere. Gathering together what they could carry they moved south and after several weeks found themselves in the hallowed lands known as Suffolk. Skilled weavers they were seized upon by the Huguenots (eventually) and found a comfortable living serving the gentry of the county. They found Suffolk a land of contrast. There were rich landowners and poor peasants, little of a middle class. For many centuries Lockwoods were found sprinkled over the county as Ag labs, poor but willing workers on the land with no history or glory. Serious historians may ignore most of this story, accepting that it is little more than embellished truth, yet John of Lockwoode did run off with the Sheriff’s daughter, and son and man were killed by that dastardly coward.
You may assume that the bloodline that ran through that hero of our time in 1215 or thereabouts now runs very thin today.
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