CHAPTER 4
MEDIEVAL LIFE:
Bromwick Manor, year 1213, close to the Scottish Lowlands
The Middle-Ages were surprising to say the very least. Contrary to what she had initially thought, the year 1213 wasn't that bad. In fact, after having recovered from her first bout of panic at finding herself there, Sarah had slowly but surely begun to grasp the possibilities of living in the Middle ages. Sure there was no electricity, no hair-dryers and worst of all no T.V, but Medieval life had its own distinct advantages, especially if you happened to be an English Baron's only daughter.
She had spent the last two weeks in sumptuous splendor, being waited on hand and foot, with maids and servants falling over themselves to do her every bidding, all she had to do was crook her little finger and they came running.
Bromwick castle itself was a revelation, they referred to it as a holding or manor house but to Sarah it was still pretty much a castle. Everything was made of stone, big bulky blocks of it. Inside, the big draughty house was divided into separate sections, all around a Central Great Hall. Leading off from the lower end of the hall were two doors partially hidden from view by wooden screens. Sarah had learned from Glenda that they led to the Pantry and the Buttery. The Cellar she said lay below them.
Although Sarah had not seen these rooms first hand she did get a chance to explore a passage leading to the Kitchen. By any standard it was a humongous place, separated from the main house for safety reasons. Big black pots and pans sizzled away on open fires. Masses of people, cooks, helpers, errand boys, maids all ran around helter-skelter carrying animals, cutting vegetables, cleaning dishes, the whole place was a busy hive of activity.
Everything was so new, the sights, the sounds, the smells, even the colors seemed much more vibrant then any she had ever seen before. Unfortunately Sarah hadn't been allowed to stay too long; her mother had caught wind of her whereabouts and ordered her back to the main house. Evidently the prospect of "mixing with the servants" was frowned upon in polite circles.
There were however other things to keep her occupied, like the chamber wings of the house. To Sarah's delight she had discovered that her bedchamber was on the top floor, three stories up, secluded and private. The view outside in the mornings stretched out for miles over rolling green fields and meadows with steeply sloping hills in the background. Sarah often found herself sitting on the window seat gazing at the panoramic views outside with awe-stuck wonder. It sure beat waking up and looking at the grimy streets of West Ealing every morning.
Her bedchamber also came with another hidden extra, one that was a God send. Believe it or not she had her very own bathroom. They called it a Privy or Garderobe and to her utter delight she discovered that it had running water, supplied from a well by cisterns. Unfortunately the discreet little privy was strictly for taking care of business, it wasn't for bathing. That had to be done in a wooden vat which was brought into her bedchamber every night by a procession of male servants some carrying the heavy tub, others following with buckets of steaming hot water from the kitchen. Sarah always felt sorry for the poor guys, but her mother wouldn't even consider the possibility of letting her only daughter bathe in the kitchen downstairs.
She was pushing her luck already by arguing over every little thing and Sarah was becoming worryingly aware of the strange looks Lady Catherine had been sending her way lately. The woman looked at her sometimes like she didn't even recognize her. Sarah could only assume that unlike herself her medieval equivalent was a goody-goody two shoes who did whatever she was told to do, no questions asked.
She knew she had to tread carefully, she couldn't afford to raise any suspicions. She had to learn to sit tight and keep her big mouth closed, and not airing ones opinions publicly was the most important part of that. Unfortunately she was failing in that particular Endeavour; the only thing that was keeping her afloat thus far was her ability to keep out of her parent's way. She avoided any protracted conversations with either one of them. Luckily both of them were far too busy with the smooth running of the Baron's estate to pay her any heed. Hopefully in time there would be a way out of this mess, Sarah did remember Santa saying something about "reversing her fate" all she could do at this point was pray that she hadn't just imagined those words.
Staying quiet however was easier said than done, everything in this time period was alien to her. Even taking a simple bath was a grand ceremony. Sara had to sit there like an invalid while Glenda scrubbed her with a sponge dipped in herb infused water followed by a rose water rinse, it had been a battle just getting the daft maid to let her use the lavender scented soap herself but at least she had won on that particular point. Initially embarrassed Sarah was thankfully getting used to the whole thing, in fact she was even beginning to relax and enjoy the star treatment. Suffice it to say rose water was great for the skin, hers had never felt so smooth or soft before.
To the front of the property there was a massive courtyard or Bailey encircled by the main house and many other smaller buildings. Sarah knew what some of these were for like the Chapel and the Larder, but she had no idea why the rest were there, she assumed they were probably barns and lodgings. At any rate, she wasn't allowed to stray into any one of them although she would have loved to have a tour.
It was behind the house however where the real treasure was hidden, the gardens. They were simply exquisite, someone had designed a clever ornamental wonderland with three tear shaped fresh water pools chock full of fish around which grew magnificent, well manicured lawns with rows and rows of multi-colored flowers. It was a joy to behold, and her own private little sanctuary. Sarah had to admit Santa had stuck her in the Middle-Ages during the best possible season, it was the height of spring and the gardens were in full bloom, bursting with life.
She ate everyday in the great hall at around noon, seated on a chair by the high table next to her mother and the Baron under a canopy of red cloth emblazoned with a big yellow cross. The castle's soldiers usually sat on stools and occupied the two smaller side tables. Servants would wash everyone's hands with scented water from an Aqua Manile and then the feasting would begin. Everyone had to eat in groups. The food was served in units, shared between two three or even four people. She had to take whatever she wanted and then place it on her Trencher (a piece of bread which was used as a plate and eaten at the very end of the meal). Each person had their very own table ware, a large platter for the trencher, saucers, bowls, plates and spoons along with ornamental little things called Salt Sellars. They were all offered a dizzying array of courses to choose from. Several variety's of tasty meats such as pork, mutton, grilled fish and chicken all swimming in nauseatingly rich sauces jostled for space on the expansive table top with rarer delicacies such as wild egret, conger, lampreys, the list went on and on and on. They didn't have pepper though (supposedly because it was so expensive) or even forks for that matter, everything was to be cut with the knife and then eaten with the hands or spoons.
One thing that they did have in abundance however was wine, apparently rivers of it. No one seemed to drink water in the Middle-Ages, probably because it tasted as vile as it looked. The Baron insisted that his wines came from areas such as Poitou, Anjou and Touraine in the Bordeaux region of France. Unfortunately, despite their lofty origins the wines themselves tasted pretty bad, they were overtly sweet and exceedingly bland. Not a single wine was aged properly; maybe that's why they didn't get anyone drunk. The wine traders in France must have been laughing all the way to the Bank.
For all its ceremony lunch was a lengthy affair, and bloody noisy. Medieval men were extremely boisterous; every conversation seemed to be a shouting match, every laugh an overbearing guffaw. They belched disgustingly while their hunting dogs ran amok fighting over scraps of meat and bones which were tossed to them from the tables. Added to this crazy milieu were dozens of servants running around like headless chickens, supervised silently by the head steward who seemed to be the only calm one there. Still, it took two bloody hours for a single meal to be finally over and done with. Unfortunately the whole crazy thing would repeat itself in the evenings once again. So far Sarah had been able to skip the evening meal in the great hall in favor of a tray in her bedchamber on account of her recent fall but she had a sinking feeling her mother wouldn't let that arrangement last for much longer.
Daily life ran like a well oiled machine, on the surface at least everything was just hunky dory. At first she had enjoyed the extravagance and splendor of her surroundings, what woman wouldn't like being treated like a princess, but things were getting just a bit monotonous of late. She had begun to feel like a piece of art on display. Ever since she had gotten out of bed on that first afternoon the show had begun. She was always expected to dress and act a certain way. Lady Catherine made sure of that.
Every morning come rain or shine Glenda helped her get ready. First came the woollen stockings or "Chauces" followed by an armless chemise with skin tight sleeves sown on to the shoulders separately, they hadn't invented buttons yet. Then came a heavy tunic or gown called a "Bliaut" made entirely of rich velvety materials in myriad colors (almost always comprising of some over the top blend of Reds, Yellows, Greens or Burgundy). The Bliaut was belted at the waist and secured with a Brooch, usually big, jeweled and extremely ostentatious. The bodice of virtually every dress was skin tight, and that wasn't the end of it Glenda threw on a tight coat called a "Surcoat" on top of it all to complete the ensemble. Her mother also insisted on her wearing a Mantle whenever she went outdoors, in this society a woman's true worth was judged by the sheer weight of the clothes she had on. It was paramount for a young lady of good breeding to be dressed to the nines on every single occasion that it made her feel like a walking human sausage was beside the point. The one saving grace was the fact that all the clothes suited her, even Sarah the reining queen of self criticism had to admit that. They made her waist look tiny and accentuated her breasts, all in all with lustrous titian hair braided, thin soled leather shoes on her feet and heavy skirts flaring from her hips Sarah felt and looked like a completely different person. She walked around like a vain peacock most of the day enjoying everyone’s admiring glances. That is until about five in the evening when all she could think about was ripping the 20 kilogram monstrosity off herself and running around naked.
As the young lady of the house she was followed around everywhere. She had initially been thrilled to learn that she was sixteen again in this time; it seemed God had given her another opportunity to relive the awful years of her teens and this time SHE would be the popular girl. But things hadn't turned out quite as she had expected. The life of a young unmarried English girl of noble birth was extremely claustrophobic. Every moment of her day was planned out to the smallest of details; from the minute she woke up to the second she fell asleep at night. But the worst part of it was that she had to be accompanied at all times by her ladies maids who were all from well to do local families. Unfortunately they were also exceedingly silly girls eternally mired in gossip and bitchiness. It seemed even the Middle-Ages were rife with bimbos.
YOU ARE READING
A CHRISTMAS WISH
Historical Fiction"I want my very own castle; I want tons of servants and men throwing themselves at my feet. I want to be pampered and rich. I want my own bloody fairy tale!" Unfortunately even wishes never went smoothly for Sarah. Instead of getting her happily e...
