T

he luxury of fresh meat and good drink is something that we all take for granted. But the people in the Middle Ages weren’t always so lucky.

The purpose of this column is to bring the harvesting medieval world to life. Through a fictitious castle, Castle Dunworth, and village, Dunchester, in each issue I’ll give you a peek into a medieval woman’s daily life as she struggles to keep food on the table for her family.

When first we come upon castle Dunworth we meet Eleanor and her husband, Rowan. Free peasants and not serfs, this family paid low rent on their land on the outskirts of town. Being free peasants, they were subject to fewer laws and taxes than their serf counterparts.

Eleanor hated the heat and oppressiveness of summer. She wiped her brow with the bottom part of her apron and stretched her aching back. “Peter, Henry,” she called. “Help me with the hay.”

Hay was the most important crop in the summertime. The more hay was gathered, the longer their animals would last, whether the animals were eaten or sold.

Where were those boys? “Now, Peter and Henry. Or I’ll tan yer hides!” She blew out hot air in frustration and sent some wild tendrils of hair from her forehead. “Stop playing with your silly knucklebones.”

“But, Ma, Henry just got them yesterday,” Peter whined.

“And I can take them away. You know how important the hay is.”

“It’s not as if we eat the hay,” Henry grumbled. “It’s for the animals. Can’t we pick fruit instead?”

“So you can throw it at each other instead of into your baskets? No, I learned my lesson last year. Now be good and quiet children.” Eleanor grabbed a pile of hay and brought it to their horse pen. She patted her mare, Silver Light, before heading back to work. Their small storage shed caught her eye, and she peeked inside. The harvest was nearly depleted. Maybe the boys do have the right of it, and we need more fruits to hold us over.

 

 

 

 

 

Eleanor spied her boys in the fields. They were laughing but working hard. Good. Time to start the pottage.

She entered their small house and added onions, nuts, berries, leeks, and parsley into a large pot. A tempting aroma soon filled the room, and Eleanor’s stomach growled. Last week, she had used the last of the fatty bacon in the last batch of pottage. If only some remained.

Shortly thereafter, the door opened. All of her men had returned home, Rowan and her sons. Rowan kissed her forehead as they sat down to eat. “How was the marketplace?” she asked.

“It was a good day.” Rowan smiled. “Before we ask the Lord to bless this meal, I have something for you.” He handed her a small box.

Eleanor opened it and gasped. So soft, so smooth, the deepest red she had ever seen. “Silk,” she murmured, rubbing the material against her cheek.

“It’s not much,” Rowan said with a blush. “But I thought it might be enough for a shirt.”

“Oh, Rowan!” She kissed him. While her loving husband offered up a prayer thanking the Lord for their food and bread and ale, Eleanor sent one up as well, giving thanks for her loving family. Although food was tight and they were all hungry, the sacrifices they made to ensure each other’s delight was more than enough to ensure their family’s survival and happiness.

 

Nicole Zoltack is currently working on a paranormal with romantic elements concerning a female assassin trying to find her father’s killer. She is the author of a medieval fantasy romance series The Kingdom of Arnhem: Woman of Honor and Knight of Glory. She has published several short stories in anthologies. To learn more about her and her works, visit her website at www.nicolezoltack.com.

 

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