Stefan's Florilegium

Gram-Letter9-art

Gram-Letter9-art - 2/24/02

"To a Daughter Left Behind" by Lady Shara of Starwood, OVO, CMC, AoA. A series
of articles on various crafts and medieval life written in first-person style.
This is number 9 of 11 articles in this series.

NOTE: See also the files: pilgrimages-msg, p-agriculture-bib, nettles-msg,
herbs-msg, herb-uses-msg, taverns-msg, spoons-msg, p-herbals-msg.

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NOTICE -

This article was submitted to me by the author for inclusion in this set
of files, called Stefan's Florilegium.

These files are available on the Internet at:
http://www.florilegium.org

Copyright to the contents of this file remains with the author.

While the author will likely give permission for this work to be
reprinted in SCA type publications, please check with the author first
or check for any permissions granted at the end of this file.

Thank you,
Mark S. Harris
AKA: Stefan li Rous
stefan@florilegium.org
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This article was originally published in the "Tal-Mere Tidings", the newsletter
of the Shire of Tal-Mere, Kingdom of Meridies.

To a Daughter Left Behind
by Lady Shara of Starwood, OVO, CMC, AoA

My sweet Meghan...

By now Rebecca should be well on her way and you should be feeling the
same feelings of both gladness, pride, and worry that I felt the first time you
set foot to that same dusty road over 20 years ago at almost the same age. No
doubt my own mother knew the same in her time, though she never expressed word
of it to my hearing, only encouragement to go and glad tears upon my safe
returning. I wonder that nothing seems to change but the seasons and the names
of the travelers; the world continues on, as a play eternal, gathering smiles
and tears in a ball of snow racing down a mountainside toward our grave, at the
bottom, before our return home to our blessed Father above.

I won't even try to tell you not to worry for I know you will til she's
warm in your arms once more. But for whatever comfort you may find in my
assurances, know that the road she travels is far safer today than it was 40
years ago and the number of her seasoned companions makes it more so. She goes
with the strength of our prayers and the wealth of our own experiences, and most
of all, with the assurance of Our Dear Lord's blessing watching over her and so
all will surely be well, for He would not give her to us, only to abandon her
now when she is so eagerly set about to find approval in His eyes.

I have discovered that in my ramblings to her over the last Winter, that
I forgot to tell her of the need to purchase bedding and food stuffs for her
crossing into France.... But those with her will already know of these things
and Dear Robert has gone with sufficient coin to purchase whatever is needed to
assure her comfort, such as it may be had along the way.

As I write to you I would change the direction of this missive and speak
of everyday things for a moment, as there is little more to be said of Rebecca,
until she returns.

From the South-facing window of my chamber I can see fine healthy calves
a-plenty in the pastures below and beyond. Our new bull hath done himself proud
with this lot and should show good service for many more a year. Your father is
as proud of that animal as of any son he himself, ever sired. Why do you think
it is that men put such pride in ownership, or victory, when we, as wives and
mothers, put our pride into what we grow and nourish to maturity and then must
let go of, and start again.(?)

Speaking of which, almost all the fruit trees here are in full bloom.
The pear and almond, cherry and plum, are all sweet and alive with honey bees
and I know by their sweet hummming that the new year has truely awakened. One
day, almost a week ago, it was so warm that the young folks made haste to the
pond to play joyfully in the cold water there. I discovered them with my ear
long before I came upon them as I went about one of my Spring walks searching
out newly awakened plants stretching to the sky after their long winter's rest.

I so envied the children their freedom to take such delight in a warm
sun-filled day, for they've not had such for so long. Tis not that I, myself,
have totally forsaken such pleasures for beneath this veil of silver locks and
time-sculpted features still lives the child I once was, but to frolic in the
sun would be most unseemly in the dignity of my old age. Still I will wait for
warmer nights and the cloak of darkness to take a walk with your father to the
pond, to seek it's cool peace. Your father has always said that the moonlight
is kind to me, even now, and sheds years from my face reminding him of our early
days together. When the sun was a friend and my mother often scolded that I was
to hide from it and keep my skin white and pure and not the warm gold of a mere
peasant's daughter. I paid her little heed then, I remember her scoldings now
with a smile, and wish I could hear them again.....but soon enough. As I get
older, I once thought I would know all the answers to my questions about God's
plan and life as a whole, but I find that I have only had more years to discover
more questions to ask while I await still the promised wisdom to answer them
all.

The pond is quiet now, for but a day and a night had but to pass before
we were beset with cold winds from the North and West and stinging rain and then
the pond crusted it's edges with a crystal-like rim of ice, and I am chilled to
the bone and no amount of hot broth can seem to make me warm again. I am
determined, I will take no moon-lit walks to the pond til the trees grow rich
with swelling fruit, for by then I may have thawed my aching bones.

We have had a mishap with young Adam. He had set about the task of
collecting eggs from high places and misplaced a foot when he climbed higher
than the others dared on the rocks. He is lucky to have suffered no more than
some cuts and scratches and a badly broken arm which I have had set and packed
well with some of the newly emerging comfrey leaves which I applied the crushed
juice of, well into his wound and the leaves around it, and bound it tight to
his breast so it may heal safely. Alas it is his right arm and so he will be
unfit at the forge for awhile but the good news is that he has lost his
interest, for the moment, in showing off to the younger ones and they, seeing
blood and pain upon him are sufficiently frightened not to go trying to improve
upon his climb, and are content while memory haunts them, to collect eggs nearer
the ground. Small blessing though it is, I will take what I can get to assure
peace for awhile.

We saw your Aunt Wrenne and Aunt Morgan last week. They were at Spring
Faire. I have been in touch with Wrenne so I knew to expect her there with
Callum. Your father and I were so glad to see them and of course they came here
to stay for a few days for a long visit. The men sat up late into the nights,
drinking such ale as we still had, and speaking together in their native tongue
of memories of their boyhoods in Eire, while Wrenne and I talked of children
and grandbabies and our gardens and the painting we've always shared a small
talent for. Wrenne had been ill and lost a fair amount of weight she could
scarcely afford to lose, but had otherwise not changed at all and was still as
lovely as always. Callum never ceases to amaze me, dispite his advancing years,
he still sports the same long flaxen locks of his youth and may be easily
mistaken for a girl if not for that fringe across his upper lip, when he turns
and smiles.

Your Aunt Morgan was the real surprise at the fair. I had just made the
purchase of a new spinning wheel and turned the row to be confronted with the
sight of Morgan within a stall, herself the proprietor of it's contents, her
being at the faire to sell, rather than to buy. I was stunned. We fell out of
touch a year or two ago, I knew not why as we'd had no disagreement but my
missives to her were never replied to, and now I know why. Her situation had
turned from comfortable widow to that of a suddenly hungry one and she was
forced to pack her immediate needs and leave from that place she'd called home,
to a shire in another place where she could earn her bread by means of her swift
needle and fyne hand. We found her at the faire, the seller of simple but warm,
woolen cloaks and fyne wrought men's smocks and a good business she was making
of it too, from the looks of her, as she was plump and in good spirits and would
hear nothing of our pleas to return with us to Starwood (though she has promised
to come for a visit when she can.....at which time I hope to pursuade her to
stay and live out her years in comfort)

She was always prideful and independent. Tis no wonder her children
grown have had no sucess in bidding her to retire to their homes and enjoy her
grandchildren about. I but hope we may be more pursuasive than they and see her
settled once more.

She assures us that she is content and in good health and lacks not for
anything she must have, and yet she is there amongst the tradesmen like a common
shopkeeper when her station in this life should have been to have servants
waiting upon her, at her beck and call and her later years given to carefree
idleness.

I would not leave her til I had in my hand the means to contact her, and
her assurance that she would regularly send word to us of her health and let us
know if and when we could be of aid to her. Twas her own stubborn pride that
had kept her of informing us of her change in circumstances. We are too old for
such luxuries as pride. That should have gone the way of our youth, nought but
a memory to look back upon and smile on or regret over, but not to try and
resurrect from old bones. Hopefully she will keep her promise, for I would not
lose her a second time, not when the years left to us are so few and uncertain.

On this note, my sweet Meghan, I'll end this lengthy missive. Please
stay in touch and tell me of news there, as I have of it here and tell me of my
other grandchildren and how they fair and of you yourself and let me know if you
have word of Rebecca. I know that Robert plans to come back this way before
returning to his beloved Scotland and he will have much to tell of Rebecca's
experiences.....It is my hope that she will return here with him so I may hear
them best from her lips, so that Robert may be sooner on his way, and please,
could you and Jon come and bring the other children? We have missed you all so
badly and I would have about me the voices of my own blood, to smother the sound
of Sara's sullen moodiness. Adam baits her constantly, in his good-natured way,
and she growls at him like an old dog. God forgive me, but I welcome the day
she decides to take leave of us. As for Adam, that day will come soon enough I
fear, and I shall miss him as if he were my own, but for now, he stays, much to
my heart's delight. Still, I would have my own about me, for we have missed you
all.

Til then,
My love to the children, and a warm embrace to the man who makes you laugh. I
thank God every day for guiding him to you.

All is well, here at Starwood.
Your father and I are content.

Mom

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Copyright 2001 by R.D. Wertz, 858 Agan Rd., Bremen, Ga. 30110.
<asa.wood@excite.com>. Permission is granted for republication in SCA-related
publications, provided the author is credited and receives a copy.

If this article is reprinted in a publication, I would appreciate a notice in
the publication that you found this article in the Florilegium. I would also
appreciate an email to myself, so that I can track which articles are being
reprinted. Thanks. -Stefan.

<the end>