The first thing you notice about the Middle Ages is how everything is covered in excrement. I have traveled considerably in times predating modern plumbing, but the stench of this particularly dark period in European history is singularly offensive to the olfactory glands. A less intrepid nose than mine would certainly retreat to a more fragrant time. Me, on the other hand, I plow ahead, watching my step nevertheless.
One silk handkerchief will book you up to two months room and board in a peasant’s hovel. The accommodations vary in comfort from a dirt floor or a stone floor to straw scattered on a dirt or stone floor. I am lucky enough to happen upon a serf whose last chicken has recently died. He allows me to sleep in his empty chicken shed and come evening invites me in for supper.
The food is set upon the table by the man’s daughter who politely introduces herself as Drozlynde. The three of us sit and eat a soggy lukewarm mix of root vegetables and some sort of grain. Not wanting to be forward I am silent until my host addresses me:
“I mean not to trespass upon your privacy, good sir, but you seem to be more noble born than our poor selves–indeed, were it not for your dress I would conclude you belong to the very knightly class who preside over us!”
In each far past I visit I use a similar story to explain my presence to the locals: I’m a traveller from a far off place, much different than their own. I’m on a journey to explore their land so I may describe it to my fellows at home. Surprisingly, it very rarely results in further questioning.
“Sir!” the man protests. “This is not my land! I am but a subject of Lord Alenwolde. Kindly do not presume this land belongs to me at all more than it does–which is not at all.”
I tell him that while he may not legally own the land, he has poured years of his own life into working the soil. He has done as much as anyone, and perhaps more than some, to plant, reap, sow, shear and milk, thereby putting the fields to their fullest use. (I really go on a whole thing about it.) I say that he and his daughter probably have more rightful claim to this land than does their feudal lord.
Horror washes over his face. “I greatly appreciate the gift which upon us you have bestowed,” he says. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like and dine with Drozlynde and I at my table, but I will be pleased if you speak no further in such a way or respectfully I will must ask you to depart.”
I agree to his request and back off the subject. The rest of the meal is spent in silence. When we have finished, Drozlynde takes the dishes from the table. As she reaches around me for my bowl she whispers discreetly in my ear,
“Meet me beneath the great oak just after dark.”
In the next moment she is gone from my side and her father is beginning to doze. I thank them for the meal and get up to retire to my shed.
Also available in Grotty Mead, Disused Cheese and Unpopular Serf.
Knowing Drozlynde will shutter at my naturally excellent breath, come nightfall I spray a few squirts of Dark Ages-brand Breath Ruiner into my mouth (I’ve found the ladies respond particularly well to the Boiled Squirrel variety.) While I attempt to catch the moonlight at a proper angle to examine my reflection in a muddy puddle, three men carrying torches ride up to the hovel on horses.
Being careful to stay out of sight, I scuttle down the slope toward the men who are now wrapping on what passes for a door–rotting planks hardly able to sustain the blows from their fists. The old man opens up and is immediately pushed back inside. Two of the torch-bearers disappear after him, leaving the third to stand watch. I creep toward the window. Close to the wall now, I see a warm light flickering on the ground. A thick gloved arm wraps arouny my neck and forces me down. I am dragged toward the horses, of which there are now four.
The two men exit the hovel. One of them clutches the silk I gave my former host. As I am hoisted onto a horseback, I am barely able to twist my neck to watch the man and his daughter looking after me before I feel a sharp pain against my head. I black out.
To be continued…
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