This Journal, being the diary of myself, Tobias Burgess, begins this day, the 2nd of January, in the year of Our Lord, 1285.
Toby’s World
Glossary
Sources
I write these words at my home in the parish of Saltington. Here I dwell with my father Henry, my mother Gwynedd, and my two younger sisters, Edythe and Sian.
But soon I shall be leaving here, for I am to spend the next twelvemonth (and more, I hope) as a page at the castle of my father’s elder brother, John Burgess, Baron of Strandborough.
My uncle has expected me these past two years, but my mother wept and would not let me go. In just two days, though, I shall be eleven years of age, and my father says I can wait no longer. At last I am to be taught the skills and duties I must know to become a squire and even, mayhap, a knight — if my father can afford it!
My mother bids me write this journal so that I will remember all that passes, and can tell her of it when I see her next. For though Strandborough Castle is not twenty miles distant, ’tis most difficult country to cross and, as few people journey that way, news from there is scarce.
Now all that stops me is the weather, for the snow lies so thickly on the ground that the roads can barely be seen, let alone traveled upon! The delay tries both my patience and that of Hugh, my father’s servant, whose task it is to deliver me to Strandborough. Though I shall be sad to leave my family (except for my sister Sian, who vexes me daily), I scarce can wait to begin my new life.
January 10th, Wednesday
Our arrival made me feel most grand, for when we were yet some distance away, the watchman did spy us out and sound his horn, and my cousin Simon rode out to greet us. Simon is full-grown and soon to be a knight, but I was greatly pleased to see him as he was kind to me when last he visited my father.
We entered the castle through a great gateway and into the Bailey beyond — my father’s manor house, and his stables, would fit easily in this huge courtyard.
At the far end stands a strong tower house called the Keep. Within the Keep is the Great Hall, which is used for eating and other gatherings. The family live in newer dwellings built against the South Wall. Here Simon showed me where I would sleep and left me. I share my room with three other pages. We sleep on wooden pallets with mattresses of straw, like at home.
I confess I am so tired from the journey that I barely have strength to write these words.
January 11th, Thursday
I awoke this morning early and had chance to observe the other pages while they slept. The one who woke next shared some bread with me. He told me his name was Mark and asked me mine. As we ate he pointed at the other sleeping pages, and laughed: “See Toby — Oliver and Humphrey shall have no bread, for they slumber still.”
Soon Simon came to take me to the Great Hall, where my Aunt Elizabeth sat by a huge fire. She welcomed me fondly and told me that my uncle attends the King in the west of the country but will return in a few days.
Then my aunt bade me greet my other cousins, Simon’s sisters, Abigail and Beth. Abigail, who is the fairer of face, is younger than I, and her sister is older. When we were introduced Abigail blushed and looked at me from the tail of her eye. “Toby is here to learn the duties of a page,” my aunt told them, “but this day I would like you to show him our home.” Then, turning to me, she added that on the morrow I would learn what I must do to make myself useful.
January 12th, Friday
I find that everyone calls my uncle and aunt “My Lord” and “My Lady,” and that I must do likewise. There are so many strange things to learn and do here that today I have time to write only a line or two. I fear my journal will have many gaps in it!
January 13th, Saturday
Directly after we had broken our fast yesterday, my aunt summoned me and spoke to me of my duties. Pages here serve my aunt and uncle, and thus learn courtesy and the manners and customs of a noble family.
Like the other pages, I am expected to make myself useful by running errands and carrying messages and suchlike. At mealtimes I will learn to serve my aunt and uncle and their guests — to fill their cups and carve them slices of meat which I will place before them in a genteel way.
But as I am her nephew, I am also to be my aunt’s personal page and must hold myself ready at all times to attend her. (Though I thought this an honour, Humphrey — who is the oldest of the pages here — scorned it, saying my aunt will have a sharper eye than most for my errors.)
Much of this seemed to me to be dull stuff, so I asked my aunt if I might also ride in a hunt. She did not answer but instead told me of my studies. The castle Chaplain is away at present, for he visits with the Bishop, but on his return I will join the other pages under his tutelage. With this, my aunt bade me make myself familiar with the many buildings and places within the castle walls, and then dismissed me.
January 14th, The Lord’s Day
This noon ’twas my task to serve my aunt at table, though I fear that through the nervous shaking of my hand as much food fell to the floor as was placed before her.
The Hall was crowded, for there are many servants here, and it will be some days before I will properly know one from t’other. Only two of them are women, and one is constantly at my aunt’s side. This woman, whose name is Isbel, dresses finely in clothes quite like my aunt’s. The other is Isbel’s maid. She wears clothes of red and blue, the same colors as the uniforms of many of the men servants.
I found it very odd that my aunt’s servant should herself have a servant. But when I asked my aunt to explain she answered me sharply, saying, “Watch your tongue! Though she does my bidding, Isbel is no peasant girl. She is as much my companion as my servant. Like you and many others who serve your uncle and me, she comes from a good family and is used to soft clothes and being waited upon.” Then my aunt said, “Why, even a servant’s servants sometimes need servants!”
And ’twas true, as I soon discovered. The Steward, for instance, who seems a prim and fussy man, is the most senior of the servants and is in charge of I know not how many others. Among those he instructs is the Butler, whose duty it is to care for the castle wines and ales. The Butler in turn commands the Cellarer, who stores the wine. And even the Cellarer has boys to lift the barrels for him.
All but the lowest servants eat together in the Hall, and we pages sit with them when our serving duties are done.
January 15th, Monday
I attended my aunt today in the Great Chamber. This is where my aunt and uncle sleep, but by day my aunt receives visitors there and instructs the servants in the running of the castle. At home we call this room the Solar, though ours is smaller by far. My aunt is always busy, for it is she who directs the Steward in the management of the castle household. She jokes that when my uncle is away she must do all her own work and also everything he does — except for shaving!
January 16th, Tuesday
With my aunt again this day and met more of the people who aid her in her daily busy-ness. Within the walls, it is the Constable who minds the castle when my aunt and uncle are both away at their other estates. When my aunt told him who I was, he did not smile or speak, but sighed deeply as if I had already wronged him.
With him also was the Reeve. This man has charge of all the manor — the farms and forest and common lands belonging to the castle. The Reeve collects the rents and taxes which those who dwell on the manor must pay to my uncle regularly for their housing and farms — and for other privileges such as the right to collect firewood in the forest.
January 17th, Wednesday
Today returned my uncle. When I was summoned to greet him, he clapped me firmly on the shoulder and told me that I would make a fine page.
I asked him if I could have a horse (much missing m
y own pony, which Hugh had taken home) and when I could ride in a hunt. But he laughed and said only: “Patience lad, thou shalt learn of such things in time.”
My uncle says I am to study archery and mayhap fighting with a sword, for I shall need these noble skills when I become a squire and learn the craft of knighthood. Knights serve the King and do battle against his foes. But they must be honorable as well as brave, so squires also study the rules of chivalry — which means doing noble deeds and helping and respecting everyone.
January 20th, Saturday
This day returned the Chaplain to lead our daily worship. He it is who has the task of teaching us pages, as well as writing letters for my aunt when she is busy with her other duties. Now not only must we rise an hour earlier each morn to attend Mass, but schooling will begin again soon!
January 22nd, Monday
This day I spent in schooling with the other pages and with my cousins Abigail and Beth. If we have no other duties, we start our studies after Mass and breaking fast, and continue as long as there is daylight enough to read by.
Chaplain teaches us Latin and the Scriptures. We also study our letters with him, and our numbers. My mother has taught me well in reading and writing in English and I am ahead of most (excepting Beth, who is most studious for a girl), but Latin is new to me, and I must learn many pages of the most dull books.
January 23rd, Tuesday
Studying today was no better than yesterday. It seems that most of my days will be taken up like this until my fourteenth birthday. Then I shall become a squire (if I do not die from boredom first). Mark whispered to me that all schooling, everywhere, is like this. The Chaplain, seeing us speak, did thrash me, but I did not cry out. Later Mark warned me that Chaplain beats us more in winter. “’Tis surely because the room is cold, and whipping warms both his arms and our rumps,” said Mark!
January 24th, Wednesday
This forenoon a squire fetched me during our Latin studies. He said that my uncle has commanded a HUNT for Saturday, and I should make haste to the stables to try out the horse they had for me!
My heart leaped at this. At home, Mother forbids me to ride with hounds (even though Father would allow it), for she fears I shall fall.
The stables lie along the North Wall and are grander and in better repair than many cottages I have seen. Here they keep many different kinds of horses, for sport and for work. The horses, too, look less hungry than the people who labour in the fields, and are certainly cleaner.
The man who has charge of the stables is called the “Sergeant-Farrier,” and such is his skill, Mark tells me, that many outside the castle seek his advice when their horses fall sick.
The greatest of the horses are two huge warhorses, called destriers, that my uncle rides in battle. There are also three lesser horses, called palfreys, that he uses when he is not riding in the King’s service. Then there are coursers for hunting, gentle hackneys for ladies to ride, and great numbers of packhorses and carthorses.
Sergeant-Farrier brought me Prancer, who is a courser. She is a fine horse, bigger and much better bred than my nag, Hobby, at home. He led me out into the Bailey. Then, seeing I could handle her, he let me ride out through the gatehouse and across the meadows beyond.
Prancer is much faster than Hobby, too, and in my excitement I did not notice that my hat had taken flight from my head. When I had retrieved it, I galloped on across the fields and tried to imagine myself leading the chase!
January 25th, Thursday
Humphrey and Oliver made great sport last night about my horse and the hunt. They pretend they have no wish to “tear their clothes and muddy themselves in the forest.” But they make fun of me because in truth they too wish to hunt, and I am promised this adventure only because I am my uncle’s nephew.
January 26th, Friday
Was teased without mercy again today, but this time by Mark because (he says) while sleeping I did gallop as if my bed were a horse, and woke them all by shouting “HOO STO!” and other such hunting calls.
For lateness at school Mark was punished with the finger pillory. I laughed, and for this had to join him. Chaplain made us stand one hour with our fingers held tight between the pillory’s boards.
I fear I shall sleep as little as a cat this night. For my mind spins with thoughts of the morrow’s venture. I pray that it will be a success.
January 27th, Saturday
The baying of hounds woke me before dawn this day, and I opened the shutter just in time to see the kennel-lads fixing bells around the dogs’ necks, which I thought most odd.
Breakfast was a much grander affair than the bread and ale that we usually enjoy, for gathered with my uncle in the Hall were many other noble folk from neighboring manors.
The talk was all of THE HUNT. It seems that my uncle’s manor is a better place than most for such sport. He and his squires hunt deer or hare or fox each week at least, though rarely with so many noble friends. Today, though, we were to hunt BOAR, which is the most exciting and dangerous of all quarry. (This, I learned, is why the dogs wear bells — the noise of them scares the beast, which otherwise is so fierce it will kill half the pack!)
At last the signal was given and the hunt set off. We rode from the castle to the forest’s edge before releasing the hounds. But then, though I followed as fast as I dared, I was soon left far behind.
Ahead of me I could hear the hounds baying with great excitement, and I guessed they had found a boar. Then I heard the Huntsman signal the end of the chase with a long note on his horn, and I knew I had missed the best moment.
The tracks of the horses led me to a clearing where the Huntsman had already cut open the beast and given its guts to the dogs. A squire I did not know told me the boar had fought bravely, turning at the end to face the pack. But the hounds had kept the boar at bay until the huntsmen could surround it and kill it with spears and swords. I was sore dismayed not to have seen such a sight.
What’s more, I lost my way on the journey back to the castle. ’Twas dusk before I returned, and now I have had no supper!
February 5th, Monday
Chaplain sickened this forenoon and took to his bed, so we were free to do as we pleased. To help me forget my misery over the hunt (and because he was sick of hearing me tell of it), Mark offered to teach me longshanks — this being his name for stilts.
He led me to the old sally port in the West Wall. This small door was once a back way out of the castle but is scarce used today.
We went to the little wood that grows beyond the wall and there Mark showed me how to cut a forked chestnut branch, with one side long to hold on to, and the other short to stand on. I soon discovered that my stilts were far more easily made than used, though, and have bruises aplenty to show for it!
February 6th, Tuesday
Back to schooling this day. Sitting in the cold Keep fair freezed me to the bone, so when lessons were ended I slipped into the kitchen. While thawing in its warmth I watched a kitchen-lad making pie shells, which he did call coffins.
Not many minutes had passed before the Cook espied me heating myself by the bread oven. He asked my business there and when he learned that I had no task said, “There is no room in my kitchen for useless bodies,” and set me to copying from a pile of recipes that he had. They were much splattered and a few even smelled of the dishes they described. Some were most strange, especially a salad made with cocks’ combs and hens’ feet.
For writing on, Cook gave me some old scraps of parchment. Many had to be scraped clean before I could use them again.
February 13th, Tuesday
Before lessons I went again to warm myself in the kitchen and watched while Cook made bread. He and his helpers start work before dawn, and the kitchen was a busy, bustling place. Cook mixes water and flour with barm. This last stuff he gets from the Brewess in the village, who calls it yeast. Her work is to make ale for the castle, and as it brews she scoops off the barm that floats on the top as foam. This barm forms bubble
s that swell the dough, making the bread light. Cook kneads the dough in a trough made of the hollowed-out half of a tree-trunk, then shapes it into loaves and leaves it to rise.
February 14th, Wednesday
Cook showed me today how they bake bread. A kitchen-lad lights the oven early on baking days, so that it is hot when the loaves are ready for baking.
He begins by burning bundles of sticks and then throws in a log or two. As soon as the oven glows over all, he scoops out the embers, brushes out most of the gray ash, then wipes the oven floor with a wet mop. The oven hisses mightily, and steam issues from its mouth like the breath of a dragon. Cook then sets the loaves into the hot oven with a wooden shovel he calls a peel.
They bake here three kinds of bread. Cook made me miniature loaves of each sort, and all the kitchen staff rested at their work to watch me taste them. The best, called manchet, is made from sifted wheaten flour and is the white bread we eat in Hall. The second, brown cheat bread, I knew also, for I have seen some of the servants eat it.
The last, which I did not know, they call brom-bread. It was horrible and I spat it out, which caused great mirth among those who watched.
I learned later that only dogs and horses eat such bread. It is baked to use up the bran the miller sieves out from the wheat when he makes white flour. At such ill-use I ran out of the kitchen and vowed not to go back there even if the ice freezes off all my fingers!
February 21st, Wednesday
Tomorrow I am to spend the day at the butts (which is what they call the archery targets here), and must do so in the company of the Constable. Part of his work as warden of the castle is to train the castle guards and ensure that they are constantly ready to ward off an attack. To this end, he and his men practice their fighting skills as often as the weather and their other duties will allow.
Castle Diary Page 1