“Either way, you won’t rest until you find out,” Jill said, hitting the nail on the head. “You’ve come this far; you can’t stop now. We don’t get to choose our parents, Quinny. Plenty of people have fathers they don’t love or respect. Just look at the news. Not a day goes by that you don’t hear about some unfortunate child being abused by the person they trust most in the world. Becoming a parent is not synonymous with becoming a saint, it’s not even synonymous with becoming a decent human being.”
Quinn nodded. “You’re right, but it’s still terribly disappointing to know that you come from someone whom you can’t respect, or even like.”
“I know, but since you won’t just abandon this, you have to let the chips fall where they may.”
“That I do,” Quinn replied as she got up to leave. Jill sprang to her feet as well, and wrapped her arms around Quinn. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything. This morning my life was a train wreck, but now everything’s changed. It might still come to nothing, but you have shown me a way to regain control, and for that, I’m truly grateful. What happens now is up to me.”
“And up to me,” Quinn agreed, secretly wondering if it was. Her beloved Grandma Ruth used to say, “We have no control over what happens to us, but we can control how we deal with it.” What happened in the next few months would sorely test that theory.
Chapter 41
February, 1347
Dunwich, Suffolk
Edwin tried not to gawk as he followed Friar William, who instead of walking at a sedate pace, as Edwin would expect a monk to do, practically sprinted down the vaulted corridor. Edwin had seen Greyfriars from a distance and knew that the clifftop priory was vast, but now that he was inside, he’d realized exactly how extensive it was. The church alone took his breath away. It was bigger than any church in Dunwich, with rows of tall, arched windows. The diamond-shaped panes were arranged in an alternating pattern of blue, green, and red, and the morning sunlight that streamed through the windows cast a rainbow of color onto the flagstones beneath his feet.
The ceiling soared toward the heavens, carrying the prayers of the devout to the rafters and possibly straight up to God. Even the merest whisper sounded like a shout, so Edward refrained from saying anything as Friar William showed him the church and just nodded in appreciation. There was a long cloister that ran along all four sides of the inner courtyard and served as a walkway from one building to the other. Friar William pointed out the main features to Edwin as they passed. There was an infirmary, kitchens and refectory, a guest house, and a chapter house. There were also several outbuildings and a barn for the animals. The friars were busy with their morning chores, going about their business in a quiet, efficient manner.
Friar William ushered Edwin into a large, high-ceilinged room inside the chapter house. Here too, the windows were glazed, but the glass was clear, allowing bright light to fill the chamber. Four friars sat at individual workstations, their heads bent over the manuscripts they were working on. The friars looked up as one, nodded in greeting, and continued with their work, too involved in what they were doing to display much curiosity about a boy who gazed about in wonder.
Edwin wasn’t sure why Father Avery, whom he’d met after Candlemas, had taken it upon himself to help him. Father Avery had come to their house for Sunday dinner just over a week ago. His mother fussed more than usual, and even purchased a good cut of pork, which she boiled with peas and onions and served with mashed turnips. Grandmother Maude scolded Petra, her anger incomprehensible to the children, who salivated with hunger as the divine smell filled their small house. They’d been sent up to the loft, so as not to be underfoot, but they could still hear the hissed argument between their mother and grandmother as they awaited the arrival of Father Avery.
“That pork was too dear,” Maude complained, when she found out how much Petra had spent. “You are not a lady yet, so don’t go getting ideas above your station. You had your chance to settle matters, but you passed it up. Again. I don’t know how a daughter of mine can be so foolhardy. And now you’ve invited that priest into our house.”
Edwin and his sisters exchanged glances, but knew better than to comment, even between themselves, for fear of being overheard. They hadn’t had pork since their father was alive, so if their mother got it into her head that she wished to carry on as a lady, and they got a nice, thick slice of meat for their dinner, they would not be the ones to complain.
“I don’t like this scheme of yours, Petra,” Maude continued. “Why involve the priest, when all you have to do is ask Lord Thomas to find a place for our Edwin? He’d keep him out of harm’s way. He’s proven that at the fair.”
“Mother, it’s never too late for Edwin to become a pack-whacker. Any daft fool can lead a donkey or load sacks of fleece onto a cart. I want better for my son. Edwin is smart, and has some learning. He can have a position of respect and a skill that will serve him throughout his days. If Thomas dies, Lord Robert will be under no obligation to me or my children, and Edwin might find himself without an income or a roof over his head. Father Avery can offer him a future, whereas Thomas can only provide him with temporary employment. Edwin is not his son, so will never attain an important position, not when Robert has sons to take over the business.”
“I suppose there is logic to your argument, but I worry, Petra. It’s a risk.”
“I know, Mother, but Edwin is getting older, and something must be done. And it’s up to me to see him settled in an occupation that will provide for him. Besides, as long as he remains calm, there’s naught to fear, and what can be more calming than copying letters?”
“What occupation?” Elia mouthed.
Edwin shrugged. He wasn’t sure what his mother had in mind, but he had no wish to become a friar. He’d rather run off and join the crew of a ship. Come spring, there would be many more ships in the harbor, so someone was bound to take him on. He could sail off to Flanders or Spain, or even the dark continent of Africa, which Alfric had told him about as they sat around a fire one night roasting a hedgehog. Edwin didn’t have any, since his grandmother would say that only heathens would eat such unclean fare, but Alfric swore that it tasted as good as any rabbit. Alfric enjoyed his meat as he spun wild tales about the men of Africa, who had skin as black as ebony and walked around dressed only in loincloths and feathers, with beads hanging around their necks for decoration. Edwin didn’t believe a word, even though Alfric swore that his uncle, who’d been a sailor, had visited those distant shores before his ship went down in a storm a year since. The stories passed the time and spurred on Edwin’s imagination. There was a whole world out there, a world he would never see if he was locked behind the walls of a monastery or spent his youth leading donkeys loaded with wool.
When Father Avery arrived, Edwin and the girls were presented to him with great ceremony. Father Avery took the time to speak to each one in turn, and treated them as if they were adults, something no one ever did. He was a stern, studious-looking man, who’d recently come down from Oxford, according to his mother, but his face relaxed when he smiled, and his dark eyes held no judgment as he conversed easily with the family, asking questions and regaling them with tales of life in Oxford. His mother seemed to like the priest, and talked to him in a familiar fashion, which seemed to upset his grandmother, whose eyes darted from Father Avery to Edwin in a way that almost made Edwin laugh. What did she expect to see?
Father Avery stayed longer than expected, but no one seemed to mind. The conversation flowed easily, and the hearty meal and spiced wine made everyone feel contented and relaxed. Even Grandmother Maude seemed to enjoy the priest’s company, warming up to him despite her earlier reservations. Petra seemed disappointed when he finally rose to his feet and announced that he needed to return to the priory in time for Evensong.
Father Avery said goodbye to each of them in turn, then took Petra’s hand, which was unusual for a priest, and bowed over it. “Thank you, Mistress Ordell. It’s been many y
ears since I was welcomed into a family as a friend and not a man of the church. This was most pleasant. I hope we might do it again some time.”
“You are very welcome, Father. It was our pleasure to have you in our humble home,” Petra replied modestly as she walked him to the door.
It wasn’t until the remnants of their meal had been cleared away and the crockery washed and dried that Grandmother Maude and the girls finally retired to their beds. Edwin wished them a good night and climbed up to the loft.
“I think I left my lute up here,” he said to his mother. It was a small lie, given that his lute was safely beneath his pillow, but he wanted to talk to her privately.
“Mother, why was Father Avery really here?” Edwin asked. He noted his mother’s look of surprise, but she smiled up at him and patted the space on her bed, inviting him to sit down.
“Edwin, I knew Avery before he became a priest, which was why I’ve appealed to him for help. I’ve asked him to help you get a position as an apprentice scribe.”
“I don’t want to be a scribe,” Edwin replied. “I want to do man’s work.”
Petra didn’t reply. Instead, she put her arm about Edwin and pulled him close, kissing the top of his head as she did when he was little. Edwin felt a flutter of fear in his belly. The incident at the Candlemas Fair brought all his mother’s fears out into the open, and now he might be relegated to the priory for the rest of his life, sent to a place where he couldn’t do much harm, to himself or others. He should have been more careful and remained on the sidelines during the matches, but he wasn’t a cripple, was he? He only wanted to do what any other boy would have done at a fair. He was no longer a child. He was a young man, and he wanted to behave as a man would, and have some say in his own life.
Even Alfric was already preparing for the future. His mother had arranged for an apprenticeship with Master Carney. Alfric was young, but he was big and strong, and the blacksmith, being short of help, was willing to take him on a year earlier. Alfric would serve eight years, instead of the usual seven, working long hours and earning nothing, but at the end of his term, he would become a journeyman and a member of the Guild. He would be a man in every sense of the word, and earn an honest wage, one that would support him and his future family.
“Edwin, Father Avery is a good man and has a mind to help us. Please, don’t throw this chance away.”
“I will NOT become a friar. You hear me? I’d rather die,” Edwin shouted and bolted toward the ladder, leaving his mother staring at him, white-faced and frightened. He yanked off his boots and threw himself face-down on the bed, tears soaking the pillow as he gave in to despair. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider what would happen to him, but he could no longer deny the truth.
He’d prayed and prayed, begging the good Lord to cure him and make the affliction go away, but the fit at the fair had been a bad one, and according to his mother, lasted longer than the ones in the past. The rush of fear as he faced his opponent and the burst of aggression he experienced during the fight brought on an attack, and he’d collapsed to the ground, drooling and convulsing for all to see. Edwin thought the Lord had forsaken him, but perhaps he was offering him a way out by bringing him into the fold. Or was he? In either case, the time to decide had come. He’d be twelve come April.
Edwin sat up and angrily wiped his tears. His head throbbed, and his stomach hurt something bad. He needed to go to the privy. Edwin pulled on his shoes and stepped outside. His breath made white puffs in the air as he hurried toward the privy, which was dark and smelly enough to make his eyes water. Edwin felt marginally better after emptying his bowels. The cramps had subsided, and his head cleared somewhat once he was out in the fresh air, looking up at the starry heavens. A three-quarter moon rode high in the sky, its glow bathing the town in a silvery light. There was no one about, but the silence and the sound of the sea in the distance were strangely comforting. Edwin leaned against the wall of the house and gazed at the vast glittering darkness stretching above him. He was cold, but not quite ready to go inside. He knew he wouldn’t sleep.
He wasn’t angry with his mother, only with the situation. She was doing her best, and he loved her for it. He would tell her in the morning that he would accompany Father Avery to the priory when the time came and thank him kindly. Perhaps accepting your circumstances was part of becoming a man.
**
Edwin mumbled a greeting to the friars and smiled uncertainly as he followed Friar William into the room. This was what he’d really come to see, and now that he was here, his heart gave a leap of apprehension. This could be his life. Forever. But, in truth, it wasn’t as awful as he’d expected. His mother was right. A scribe was respected and valued, not to mention comfortable. The scribes were warm and dry, got three meals a day, and each had a cell to call his own. If Edwin became a pack-whacker for Lord Devon, as his grandmother thought he should, he’d spend most of his days out in the open, eating whatever he could get and sleeping rough until he returned home. Also, the wages would be minimal, since any idiot could do the job. Edwin mentally thanked his mother for making him promise that he keep an open mind.
“This is where the manuscripts are copied,” Friar William explained, lowering his voice so as not to disturb the friars. “It’s delicate, painstaking work that requires great concentration, so the friars work only in the morning, when the light is strongest and they are well rested. They then go on to midday prayer and to dinner at the refectory, after which they proceed to their other, more physical chores.”
Friar William motioned for Edwin to follow him toward the back of the room where a long, wooden table occupied most of the wall. “This will be your work area for the time being. You will assist the scribes in whatever they need. Namely, you will make ink and mix paints, replenish the inkwells, sharpen quills, and prepare the gold leaf. You will also measure and cut the vellum to the specifications the scribes give you.”
Edwin reached out and carefully touched some of the earthenware jars and glass vials lined up toward the back of the table by the wall. “What are all these?” he asked.
“Those are the various pigments used for mixing the paints. The scribes use many colors, ranging from vermillion to ochre, to woad, and to verdigris. There’s also silver and gold, which needs to be hammered into very thin sheets or ground into powder and mixed with egg to produce shell gold.”
“What is it used for?” Edwin asked, fascinated.
“The paints are used for the images and the gold and silver for providing an illuminated background. The end result is quite beautiful. Here, let me show you. Come.”
Friar William walked toward a row of shelves and lifted a heavy, leather-bound volume, which he carried to an empty desk. He opened it reverently and motioned for Edwin to come closer. Edwin gasped in wonder. The text was written in beautiful, even lines, but the design that bordered the page and the inset image of a saint were like nothing he’d ever seen in his life. The brilliant colors and gold background made the miniature practically leap off the page. Once Edwin looked closer, he saw that it wasn’t only the bright colors that made the image so extraordinary; it was the exquisite detail and flawless execution. It was perfect.
“How do they manage it?” Edwin asked, unable to find the proper words to phrase his question.
“It’s a long process, my boy, and takes a great deal of precision. You will learn everything in due course, but for now, you will start with the basics. Come, let’s not disturb the scribes any longer than necessary.”
They came back out into the cloister and then crossed the courtyard toward the massive arch in the stone wall through which he’d come earlier with Father Avery. Edwin hadn’t seen the priest since Father Avery introduced him to Friar William and rushed off, but Edwin was sure that they’d meet again soon. Father Avery seemed to have a keen interest in his future, which was odd, but also comforting. God knows, his own father never did. Edwin felt as if a heavy load had been lifted off his shoulders since his
father died. It was a disloyal thought, especially in this holy place, but it was the truth. No one ever spoke of it, but Edwin was sure that they all felt the same, except Elia, who’d been closer to their father than anyone else in the family. Edwin glanced up when he realized that Friar William was speaking to him.
“Edwin, since you are not a member of the order, you will continue to live at home. You will arrive in the morning and leave after the midday meal, which is included as part of your apprenticeship. You are, of course, welcome to join us in prayer, and should you decide to join the order, Prior Jacob will be most happy to speak with you. Father Avery has indicated that you are considering dedicating your life to God. No one here will pressure you into making a decision, but we will all tell you, as one, that there’s no greater glory than devoting yourself to the Lord and spending one’s life in his service. I will see you tomorrow. God be with you,” Friar William said as he placed his hand on Edwin’s shoulder in a gesture of benediction.
“Tomorrow then,” Edwin replied, raising a hand in farewell.
He passed beneath the arch and started back toward town. This part of the road was deserted, since few people came out to Greyfriars Priory on days when the brothers weren’t giving out alms. Edwin enjoyed his solitary walk, using the time to mull over what he’d learned. Edwin had envisioned the work of a scribe as tedious and mind-numbing, which it probably was, but seeing that beautiful text made him see their labors in a whole new light. To create something so splendid had to be very gratifying, perhaps even divine. It was certainly more rewarding than sweating in a forge or cutting one’s hands to shreds as a carpenter’s apprentice. Those beautiful books would remain behind long after the scribes were gone, their legacy to the world surviving for years, maybe even centuries.
Had Edwin been offered this apprenticeship outright, he’d have no reservations, but there was a condition attached to Edwin’s tutelage. He had to consider joining the Franciscan order by the time he turned thirteen. The prospect of becoming a friar was enough to make Edwin want to walk into the sea, but seeing the splendor in which the monks lived and worked and experiencing the serene atmosphere of the monastery had been a revelation. Edwin liked solitude. He wasn’t someone who had many friends or longed to spend an evening drinking in a tavern. And now that Alfric was starting his apprenticeship with the blacksmith, he wouldn’t have time for Edwin anymore. He’d make friends with the other apprentices, and his life would revolve around the forge, now and forever. Edwin would be left alone, but although he’d miss Alfric, he didn’t really mind. Perhaps it was his affliction that set him apart, but he enjoyed his own company. Dwelling and working in a place that encouraged that, but still provided a comfortable living and companionship didn’t seem so dire now. Perhaps becoming a friar wasn’t as far-fetched of an idea as it had been only that morning.
The Forgotten (Echoes from the Past Book 2) Page 21
