Castle Diary

by Richard Platt

  To him also is given the task of instructing us pages in the basic points of archery, though clearly he does not relish such a chore, for when my uncle asked him to watch over me at the butts, he protested loudly. He said that I was old enough to look after myself (which is true).

  But my uncle silenced him, saying, “Hush, man, ’tis just for one day! Once he has the hang of it he can practice without your help. But this is my brother’s only son. What say he if the lad be spiked with an arrow on his first day at yonder butts?”

  February 22nd, Thursday

  This morn the Constable and I ventured out together to the butts beyond the North Wall (each of us pretending that we were alone).

  At home I have a bow which Father fashioned for me, but when I saw what they call here a “boy’s bow,” I knew mine was but a toy.

  My new bow is made of yew wood, and is as tall as me. Straight as an iron rod, it is almost as stiff. To bend it and fit the string takes all my strength.

  My arrows are the perfect twins of those the castle guards use, but done in miniature. They have real goose-feather flights, which are supposed to make them fly straight at the target.

  Oftener, though, my arrows fly elsewhere when I let go the bow string. I had thought that my practice with arrows in the orchard at home last summer might be some help to me in this new endeavour, but I am by far the poorest archer in the castle!

  March 3rd, Saturday

  Have been neglectful of my journal of late, for studies and other tasks fill the daylight hours when it is light enough to write. I made this entry in school while I did pretend to be studying my numbers.

  At the butts yesterday one of the archers showed me why his kind are so feared by our King’s foes. With bow in hand he stood before a tree with a trunk thicker than my chest. He pulled back the bow string until the veins stood out upon his face, and when he loosed the arrow, its head passed clean through the tree-trunk and pierced the other side.

  Seeing this, the other archers jeered that he was showing off, and four more of them repeated his trick. But then when he let fly thirteen arrows in a minute none took up his challenge to better him.

  March 9th, Friday

  Practiced archery again today. This time I was much better and pulled the string right back. But when the Constable saw this he gave me a bigger bow, so once again I am the castle dizzard at the butts.

  Of twelve arrows I shot with my new bow, only four hit target, while seven fell on grass. One killed a sparrow in flight. Those watching cried “HAIL!” and clapped, so I bowed low to them and said not that ’twas but a fluke.

  March 11th, The Lord’s Day

  With much ceremony a special dish was placed before me at dinner today. Baked on a skewer was the bird that I had shot. Cook, whose jest this was, called it “Sparrow à l’Arrow.” And though there was scarce a mouthful of meat on the bird, it tasted well.

  March 12th, Monday

  This morn I overheard my uncle say he was to visit the castle armory to see about some small changes to his helm. He wishes it to weigh less heavy on his head, yet better protect him at the JOUSTS!

  Of this tournament I knew nothing and I begged his leave to accompany him. In my excitement I quite forgot myself and began to say, “Uncle, tell me more about. . . ,” for I desired most keenly to learn of these jousts. But then I remembered my manners, and blushing, began anew: “My Lord, if it pleases you, pray tell me more about the tournament.”

  This made him laugh, and he spoke freely about it, saying that the jousts are to be held, as usual, on Saint George’s feast day. So I must wait SIX WEEKS!

  Within the armory they make and mend all manner of weapons as well as armor. But the noise of hammering and the heat from the furnace in which they soften the metal were so great that they made my head whirl. ’Tis certain the sound has made the Armorer and the Smith and their apprentices as deaf as beetles, for to make himself heard my uncle had to bellow like a braying ass.

  March 16th, Friday

  My cousin Beth hath sewed me a shirt of Egyptiacal cotton! I have never before had such dainty garb. I hastened to put it on, but because it is new the seams and stitches rubbed my skin sore.

  Humphrey and Oliver both laughed at this and called me “chrisomer” and “nigget” and “moonling.” They are accustomed to new clothes and will suffer them until washing softens the folds. But I would rather wear my old linen shirt, for though it is more common, ’tis also more comfortable.

  March 19th, Monday

  Played at knights with Mark, Oliver, and Humphrey today. As Mark is bigger than me, he was the horse and I rode his back. We won. Oliver toppled from his horse and got a bloody nose. Serves him right, for he did twist my ears most painfully and call me the worst names when first I wore my new shirt.

  March 20th, Tuesday

  Wrote yesternight by candle’s flicker and fell asleep with quill in hand. When I awoke, the candle had set the pages alight, and would have burned my straw mattress or worse if Humphrey had not smelled smoke and beat out the flames. This morning Chaplain likewise beat my backside — to teach me care with candles, he said.

  Ate salt fish again today. DISGUSTING! Here they are more careful to follow the Church’s rules than at home, so besides every Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday being fish days, they also eat fish on each Church festival. This means we eat vile fish more often than flesh or fowl.

  April 11th, Wednesday

  Watched my uncle practice for the jousts today. He charged eleven times at a wooden ring hung from a tree and caught it on his lance five times. It takes much skill to lift the ring from it’s hook while galloping at full speed, and all who saw this agree it bodes well for the contest.

  April 22nd, The Lord’s Day

  Tomorrow begin the jousts! The host of noble knights who accepted my uncle’s challenge are lodged at inns nearby or are encamped upon the fields outside the castle.

  TWO-SCORE gaily coloured tents sprouted in the night like mushrooms. Flying from lances planted in the ground, the knights’ pennants look like flowers in a spring meadow.

  All the talk is of who shall prevail, and methinks the men of the castle guard place wagers on the winner. I pray my uncle shall vanquish them all!

  April 23rd, Monday

  This being the feast day of Saint George, the whole castle was astir well before sunrise in preparation for the jousts.

  All the clashes were keenly fought, but I shall give account of my uncle’s combat first. His opponent was Lord Sudbury. Everyone from the castle (and the village folk besides) gathered eagerly to watch their charge.

  After some ceremony, of which I shall tell later, the two knights trotted to opposite ends of the Lists (which is what they call the strip of field where the combat takes place). When they were some 300 paces apart, they turned to face each other.

  The sunlight danced on their shiny helms, and on the bright colors of their families’ arms blazoned on their shields and armor.

  On the command “LAISSEZ ALLER” from a herald, both knights urged their horses forward. Pricked with sharp spurs, the snorting horses galloped faster and faster until they ran as swift as a March gale. Each knight aimed his lance at the shield of the other, and the watchers cried “HUZZAH!” when my uncle stayed on his horse and knocked Sudbury to the ground. Three times my uncle toppled Sudbury.

  At their third meeting, though, the force of Sudbury’s blow lifted my uncle, too, clean from his saddle.

  Those who watched gasped “ALAS!” in fear for my uncle’s life, but he quickly rose to his feet and raised his iron glove to still the hubbub.

  Then, though, he found that he could not raise the visor on his helm, so twisted it was from the fall. And when later the heralds announced that my uncle was the victor, he was nowhere to be found.

  At length, a search of the castle discovered my uncle in the armory — with his head laid on an anvil and the Smith at work upon his helm. ’Tis surely a wonder the Smith could remove it without harming a
hair on my uncle’s head.

  April 25th, Wednesday

  There seems each day of the jousts to be less sport than the day before, and more boring ceremony. Before combat begins each morn, the knights withdraw to their arming tents, where a squire helps him dress for the jousts. When they return, fully armed, there is much bowing low and making of speeches. When these dull preparations are complete, the heralds proclaim the names of the combatants, whose faces are hidden behind their shiny helms.

  Only then do the first two knights face each other and spur their horses on, and to my mind the excitement that follows is over far too soon.

  April 26th, Thursday

  The jousting ends at last! I swear I should die of boredom if I were to listen to just one more speech. And after so many charges all knights look the same. If I had known it would be thus, I should have feigned illness on Monday and so escaped the ordeal.

  The new hose that I wear for this grand event is hot, for it clings to my legs as tightly as the skin clings to a sausage. And it is my duty to wait upon my aunt all day while she watches, which tires me much.

  Gilbert, Earl of Hertford, was this day mortally wounded in the jousts. But when I talked of it with Mark he only said: “Well, ’tis common.”

  May 3rd, Thursday

  Today was an Egypty day. And as all know, ill fortune follows any work that starts on these two unlucky days in the month. Our Chaplain cautioned us that ’twas but a superstition from heathen Egypt. My uncle also told us we should not mind it. Later, though, I heard him tell a groom to put away the horses he had saddled, for only fools start journeys on Egypty days.

  May 14th, Monday

  While we studied this forenoon my cousin Abigail scratched a message in her wax tablet and passed it to me. Chaplain seized it and now I must rise before dawn for a week and pray with him. This seems to me most UNJUST! I am punished, though I did no wrong. She did wrong, yet is not punished.

  May 27th, The Lord’s Day

  Yesterday was one of great celebration, for my uncle dubbed Simon a knight. Now he is twenty-one, Simon has been full seven years a squire and has learned well the noble skills of knighthood.

  Two days did Simon spend in prayer and fasting. On Friday night he slept not at all, but kept vigil in the Chapel, praying until dawn. Then, at cock-crow, he bathed and dressed in a tunic of pure white, and attended Mass. Only after this could he break his fast and venture out into the Bailey for the armoring ceremony.

  First, my uncle dressed him in a coat of mail. Then Simon put on a gleaming helm and gilded spurs, and grasped a shield painted with the two Burgess ravens. When this was done he knelt to await the colee — the blow from my uncle’s sword that would make him a knight.

  I thought this would be no more than a light tap and was alarmed to see how heavy was the blow. But Simon was expecting it thus. He rose speedily, and swore a solemn vow to be a gallant and brave knight. Then all cheered as he mounted a fine Spanish palfrey and rode round the Bailey. Later, there was feasting in the Hall in Simon’s honor. He will make a fine knight; and he is a good and kind cousin.

  June 9th, Saturday

  The weather of late has been fearsome hot. We have not seen a cloud in weeks, and the ground is parched from want of rain. The river has sunk lower than any can remember, and green SLIME grows in that part of the moat where we usually swim.

  In the Bailey two men dig a new well. This is oft a wet and muddy task, but as there is little water to fill the well the men can work dry-foot.

  June 13th, Wednesday

  The garderobes all reek. When I have need of them I rush in nimbly, clutching my nose. I let fall my hose and pray that relief will be quick. This forenoon when I sat upon the wooden seat, out from under it flew a black fly so fat that at first I took it to be a wren.

  June 15th, Friday

  This day the GONG-FARMER came from the village to work below the South Wall. On this side of the castle the garderobes empty down chutes into the moat. But because there has been no rain, the moat is sluggish in its flow and everything that falls from the chutes stays where it drops. The Gong-Farmer must clear not only these piles but others besides, for elsewhere in the castle the garderobes empty into pits, which must be cleaned to keep them sweet.

  One of the garderobe chutes is blocked and the Gong-Farmer must reach up inside this slimy pipe to unclog it. I would not do his job for all the King’s gold.

  A humming black cloud hangs always above a Gong-Farmer’s head. Nose warns of his approach long before eyes espy him, and all ears are alert to the squeaking of his stinking cart.

  June 20th, Wednesday

  Woke two nights past to the crashing of thunder. Now the rain does not stop and we are awash with water!

  July 9th, Monday

  Today at table my aunt and uncle talked softly mouth to ear. Isbel, my aunt’s companion, has told me that a grand Earl is coming to Strandborough. He and his household are journeying north and will rest at the castle for at least two nights. I divined from their talk that my aunt and uncle are already planning a great banquet for the visit, even though ’tis still some weeks away.

  July 14th, Saturday

  This morn my aunt told Isbel the reason for my uncle’s keen preparations, and as she is friendly towards me Isbel has entrusted me also with the secret. It seems this great Earl has the ear of the King, and my uncle hopes to gain favor by welcoming him. Though my uncle’s castle is grand, this Earl has an estate many times larger. As there are pebbles on a beach, so he has gold coins in equal numbers.

  July 20th, Friday

  Isbel tutored me in table manners this day (though I needed it not). “If you eat with the Earl’s household while they are here,” said she, “have a care to spit politely on the floor, not over the table.”

  When I sniffed, she reminded me that if I should wipe my nose, it is only seemly to clean my hand on my clothes before touching food.

  July 27th, Friday

  Towards the end of lessons today we heard music from beyond the castle walls. Abigail and I made haste to find out whence had come this sound, and Simon told us that a band of players had passed by on their way to the village inn. They have come at my uncle’s bidding for the banquet. These folk journey near and far, singing for their bread, and Simon has said he will take us to see them on the morrow.

  July 28th, Saturday

  We found the players outside the village church, amusing a crowd of folk. The tumblers were most marvelous and though one showed me how he walks on his hands, I could not master even one step.

  The minstrels sang of our King’s victory in the west. Their verses brought news, too, of wars and great happenings in other lands. Most songs were jolly, though, and the crowd that was gathered there knew them of old and joined in with the choruses.

  A few folk dropped a farthing in a leathern hat which the tumblers passed around. Others gave them bread or cheese, or brought a jug of ale to pay for this fine entertainment.

  July 30th, Monday

  Today, two great ox-carts trundled across the drawbridge to the kitchen yard. It took Cook’s servants near half the day to unload and store all the provisions for the feast. The first cart bore barrels of wine and ale so large they had to be rolled for they could not be lifted. The second cart held all manner of meats and fish. One was most strange, with the tail of a fish but the fur of a beast and the face of a man with whiskers complete. Later, Cook told me ’twas some kind of sea beast. ’Tis fantastical food we shall be eating when at last we sit down at our trenchers!

  On Wednesday arrives the Earl, and on Thursday will be the banquet.

  August 7th, Tuesday

  These five days past the whole household supped in Hall in honor of our most noble guest, the Earl of Branstone.

  But straightway after the feast a fever afflicted me and I was taken to lie in the Great Chamber, where my aunt and Isbel could watch over me. Though somewhat recovered, I am as weak as a kitten and must stay in bed — so shall use the
time to write of past events, for I fear I neglect my journal. The feast itself was the grandest thing I have ever seen. I could not help but stare at the many fine clothes and the gold and silver dishes.

  It was the food, though, that caused all present to gasp in amazement and marvel at the seemingly endless array of dishes. Here were majestic peacocks, stuffed and roasted and proudly dressed in their feathers, and there the tiny tongues of larks. And fish of all kinds in plenty, baked and boiled, and platter after platter of roasted meats rich with sauces.

  The Earl had come with a host of servants who helped us bring out the dishes for each course. Each dish was carried in with much ceremony and presented to my uncle and the Earl before it was served. When the dishes were laid on the tables we sat down to eat.

  There were a great many dishes I did not recognize. One seemed half bird, half beast. Mark named it: “Cockatrice ’tis called, but I know not where it is hunted.” This made Humphrey laugh so hard that he almost spat out his food. “Mark!” he snorted. “’Tis but a kitchen trick. First they pluck a big fowl and cut it across the waist. Then they take a piglet, likewise cut in half, and sew top of one to bottom of t’other.”

  This cockatrice tasted good, but the noble Earl would not eat of it (or of any other dish) before his butler had tasted it to see if it was fit for his master.

  I tire now and so shall write more upon the morrow.

  August 8th, Wednesday

  I have told how grandly we ate at the feast. But in a few ways this banquet was like ordinary fare. As usual, of course, we ate with knife, spoon, and fingers and heaped our food upon trenchers of hard, stale cheat bread cut into thick slices.