Emma followed the young girl, Bonita, to where a carriage was waiting on the main road. They traveled for about two hours to Sangatte, where they stopped to refresh themselves. Bonita explained that they were going on about another two miles beyond Sangatte, but that they should eat here, since the chaos of the court would likely result in no food for any of them until the following day.
They did indeed have a chaotic arrival, with the Lady NPC scanning the coach at first for the older woman, then looking disappointed at the young replacement. After a few days, however, it was established that Emma could indeed work with fine fabrics, and she fit right in with the quickly arranged group of cloth-women, teaching a stitch to one, learning a stitch from another.
She enjoyed the work, and almost three weeks passed quickly. With fifteen women working with every bit of sunlight every day and a few candles beyond, all of the dresses of the main court had been finished; bows and hair arrangements and shoes had been decorated, stitched, and glamorized. As the days passed, Emma would say goodbye to one visiting seamstress after another, until finally only she and the Lady's own cloth-woman and her two helpers remained. Notorious guests were beginning to arrive, and Emma's own clothing was becoming less presentable by the day. A week before the wedding, the Lady called her in and offered her a full-time position as an apprentice to her own seamstress; the Lady would be losing the cloth-woman's first apprentice to her sister when she married, and she had been impressed by Emma's attitude, if not by her appearance or clothing.
The Lady offered Emma a custom-made court dress if she stayed, and the opportunity for a nice wardrobe as new events were planned. In wages, the Lady offered her more than Emma had expected: 7 pence a day! Emma knew that many guilds paid master workers 8 and up, so the amount offered showed her that her work would be considered of the highest value for her station.
Emma however wanted to return to Lightbridge; her mother had been proud of her work here, but wanted the young girl away from court until she was older. The generous Lady then paid Emma 6 pence a day for her 15 full days of work, and she as well bestowed upon Emma one of her own dresses from her youth. Although she pointed out that its design was outdated, she was sure that Emma could work it up into something more contemporary. The Lady's seamstress cried at Emma's leaving, and she also packed up several spools of threads and scraps into Emma's bag that she knew would not be missed.
The Lady then put Emma onto a carriage and sent her back to Lightbridge.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Emma's travels continue
In the morning that followed her arrival, Emma had indeed started to make herself "a Home," as Goody Seamstress, the absent NPC, had instructed her to do. She had found good makings for a broth in the cupboard and had set about learning what each new drawer and cabinet contained, from the top of the private apartment to the door of the public shop. But she did not feel confident to open the door and invite in the town as yet; she had been taught that nice young ladies are introduced to others, and she had badly stumbled in meeting Lord Lightbridge, addressing him as the casual "Thee" instead of the "You" or "Ye" that she had been taught to say to those above her station. She desperately hoped that by the time she had straightened the shop and gotten her things in order, one of the older women would be there.
But she had just finished a small lunch of peppered meat and cheese when she heard a loud banging on the front door. She hurried downstairs to open it, finding a young woman in working maid's clothes standing before her.
"We need Goody Seamstress! My Lady's sister must marry in one month, and there be none other what can sew the satin and the lace like she! I be sent for to fetch her thither!" the maid gushed.
Emma had stepped backwards into the room as the young woman had pushed her way inside, looking from corner to corner in rushed anticipation. Emma took a deep breath, not even knowing how her voice would sound after so long without speaking to another.
"I be muchly sorrowful for thee," she started, then cleared her throat and spoke louder, "but Goody Seamstress bee away to her owne sister's," Emma explained. The young woman began to panic.
"But what shall we do? She be with child, an my Lady's father hath put the date down t' th' minute for the wedding night to take place! We must have more tha' 40 dresses finished by then, and we have nay skill nor maids to finish in such time! What shall we do, what shall we do?" She excitedly circled the cloth display, wringing her hands as she spoke more to herself than to Emma.
"I can come with thee," Emma said, touching the young woman's arm. "It be said I be good with the satin and lace, and I be the First Apprentice to Goody Seamstress," she offered, exaggerating her own title and place in the business, but only a bit, she told herself. She felt confident with the work, even if she had not yet earned the title. "My name is Emma -- Emma Archer."
The girl's face changed completely, and she moved to hold Emma's arm even as she went into a small curtsy in front of her.
"Oh, thanks be to the Virgin, Goody Archer! My Lady will be so thankful if Ye come!" Emma lifted the older girl's elbow, indicating that she should rise. Emma was uncomfortable with such emotional displays from one more than five years older than herself, and had never been comfortable when others treated her with higher class respect. Even though her father had served on the town council, she had never thought of herself above those girls who, every morning, had thrown the contents of another family's chamberpots out into the street.
She sat the young woman down with a hot cup of the broth she had made for breakfast and was keeping warm for dinner, and went upstairs to gather her belongings, from where she had only recently stacked them, back up for another trip. She carefully tied the sheath with her father's second best set of fishing knives, given to her as a going-away present, under her skirts around her right thigh. She slipped the heavy outdoor travel overskirt over her head and pulled on her cloak. She then picked up her sewing basket, heavy with all of the materials and needles and threads that her mother had packed for her, settled the hanging ropes onto one of her shoulders, and made her way back downstairs.
The other young woman was surprised to see her ready to go so quickly, with such a prepared pack, and her eyes showed the surprise as Emma went over to stir the fire down to ash, indicating that she was ready and waiting for the other woman to get her own cloak back on. As she did so and moved by Emma out the door, Emma stood in the doorway looking around at Lightbridge, the town that she had not yet even seen, but should be calling home. She thought of the strange circumstances, and found herself saying under her breath, "Hello, Lightbridge, au revoir, Lightbridge! I hope to get to know you on my return!"
She stopped in at the stables across the way, to let them know both that she had arrived and appreciated the kindness of the fire, and that she would soon be back.
But she had just finished a small lunch of peppered meat and cheese when she heard a loud banging on the front door. She hurried downstairs to open it, finding a young woman in working maid's clothes standing before her.
"We need Goody Seamstress! My Lady's sister must marry in one month, and there be none other what can sew the satin and the lace like she! I be sent for to fetch her thither!" the maid gushed.
Emma had stepped backwards into the room as the young woman had pushed her way inside, looking from corner to corner in rushed anticipation. Emma took a deep breath, not even knowing how her voice would sound after so long without speaking to another.
"I be muchly sorrowful for thee," she started, then cleared her throat and spoke louder, "but Goody Seamstress bee away to her owne sister's," Emma explained. The young woman began to panic.
"But what shall we do? She be with child, an my Lady's father hath put the date down t' th' minute for the wedding night to take place! We must have more tha' 40 dresses finished by then, and we have nay skill nor maids to finish in such time! What shall we do, what shall we do?" She excitedly circled the cloth display, wringing her hands as she spoke more to herself than to Emma.
"I can come with thee," Emma said, touching the young woman's arm. "It be said I be good with the satin and lace, and I be the First Apprentice to Goody Seamstress," she offered, exaggerating her own title and place in the business, but only a bit, she told herself. She felt confident with the work, even if she had not yet earned the title. "My name is Emma -- Emma Archer."
The girl's face changed completely, and she moved to hold Emma's arm even as she went into a small curtsy in front of her.
"Oh, thanks be to the Virgin, Goody Archer! My Lady will be so thankful if Ye come!" Emma lifted the older girl's elbow, indicating that she should rise. Emma was uncomfortable with such emotional displays from one more than five years older than herself, and had never been comfortable when others treated her with higher class respect. Even though her father had served on the town council, she had never thought of herself above those girls who, every morning, had thrown the contents of another family's chamberpots out into the street.
She sat the young woman down with a hot cup of the broth she had made for breakfast and was keeping warm for dinner, and went upstairs to gather her belongings, from where she had only recently stacked them, back up for another trip. She carefully tied the sheath with her father's second best set of fishing knives, given to her as a going-away present, under her skirts around her right thigh. She slipped the heavy outdoor travel overskirt over her head and pulled on her cloak. She then picked up her sewing basket, heavy with all of the materials and needles and threads that her mother had packed for her, settled the hanging ropes onto one of her shoulders, and made her way back downstairs.
The other young woman was surprised to see her ready to go so quickly, with such a prepared pack, and her eyes showed the surprise as Emma went over to stir the fire down to ash, indicating that she was ready and waiting for the other woman to get her own cloak back on. As she did so and moved by Emma out the door, Emma stood in the doorway looking around at Lightbridge, the town that she had not yet even seen, but should be calling home. She thought of the strange circumstances, and found herself saying under her breath, "Hello, Lightbridge, au revoir, Lightbridge! I hope to get to know you on my return!"
She stopped in at the stables across the way, to let them know both that she had arrived and appreciated the kindness of the fire, and that she would soon be back.
Discoveries
Fourteen-year-old Emma had gone into a restless sleep beside the sputtering fire, waiting for one of the other seamstresses to wake her, to feed her, or to stumble over her on their way to open the shop the next morning. She dreamt of ocean waves, the salty wet air, of the herring beneath them that her father would catch in large nets, and of the quick slash of his knife to open and de-bone their breakfast in one quick motion. In her mind, she was eight years old, softly being rocked in her early-morning sleep under a blanket on her father's boat, having stolen from the house shortly after midnight in her father's old clothes that her mother had altered.
"Henry Archer, it is my pleasure to tell you that you have a son," her mother had laughingly said to her father as she pulled the old workshirt down over Emma's head. Her father crossed the room contemplatively, then raised his eyebrows, pulling at Emma's blond braid hanging halfway down her back.
Her mother had rolled her eyes as she had taken the braid and piled it up under the felted knitted cap that had finished drying only the night before.
"Picky, picky!" she commented, and her father had burst out laughing when she twirled Emma, completely outfitted, around for display.
The memories of her parents' voices faded slowly from her foggy head. She was cold, and in her waking mind, she knew that the fire was going out. From the set of the logs when she'd arrived, she knew that about four hours had passed.
She roused herself for the job, holding her cloak up around her shoulders as she stoked the fire and raised it back to a comfortable height. With no one around to tell her not to, she decided to keep warm in her sleep.
She had been awoken the next morning again by the cold, but also by the light streaming in the window. People outside hurried around to their tasks, but the Seamstress Shop remained closed and quiet. She prepared the fire to stoke later for cooking and decided to look around.
The stairs leading to the living quarters upstairs had seemed private and unapproachable to Emma when she had arrived last night, and now they seemed even moreso. She imagined that the old seamstress who had known her mother for years might be dead in the bed above -- how old was she again? What would she do, if she had to tell others before she had even met them about some emergency? Her father's friend, the ship's captain, would not be coming back to Lightbridge for a month; he had made it clear that he would check on her upon his return. Her godparents were often in Calais, but she did not know when they would be back through Lightbridge. In her mind, she was truly on her own, with the world turning speedily around her.
She timidly climbed the stairs, moving slower as she approached the line-of-sight landing. But the room was empty, the bed made. She walked slowly, touching the brocade fabrics, smelling the sweet potpourri pots scattered around the room that could be a Lady's, admiring the rich details that her parents had never brought into their home: a fancy mirror, and the chamber pot had its own seat. Her eyes focused on various objects around the room, attempting to take it all in. She noticed that there was, on a small fine table, a slip of paper that turned out to be a note for her.
___________________________________
Sources
* Davies, A., R. Lipton, D. Richoux et al. "Thou, Thee, and Archaic Grammar: Pronoun Paradigms." Alt-Usage-English.org List Website.
* Kent Coast Sea Fishing Compendium. "Boat Fishing." Hagstone.net
* -- "Hythe, Dymchurch, St Mary's Bay, Littlestone, Greatstone & Lydd."
* "Kieser," "Sofya la Rus," SCA participant. "Medieval Knitting Notes."
* Museum of London. "Split-Brimmed Slashed Cap." Object description.
* Sweetinburgh, Sheila. _Later Medieval Kent, 1220-1540._ Preview at Google Books.
"Henry Archer, it is my pleasure to tell you that you have a son," her mother had laughingly said to her father as she pulled the old workshirt down over Emma's head. Her father crossed the room contemplatively, then raised his eyebrows, pulling at Emma's blond braid hanging halfway down her back.
Her mother had rolled her eyes as she had taken the braid and piled it up under the felted knitted cap that had finished drying only the night before.
"Picky, picky!" she commented, and her father had burst out laughing when she twirled Emma, completely outfitted, around for display.
The memories of her parents' voices faded slowly from her foggy head. She was cold, and in her waking mind, she knew that the fire was going out. From the set of the logs when she'd arrived, she knew that about four hours had passed.
She roused herself for the job, holding her cloak up around her shoulders as she stoked the fire and raised it back to a comfortable height. With no one around to tell her not to, she decided to keep warm in her sleep.
She had been awoken the next morning again by the cold, but also by the light streaming in the window. People outside hurried around to their tasks, but the Seamstress Shop remained closed and quiet. She prepared the fire to stoke later for cooking and decided to look around.
The stairs leading to the living quarters upstairs had seemed private and unapproachable to Emma when she had arrived last night, and now they seemed even moreso. She imagined that the old seamstress who had known her mother for years might be dead in the bed above -- how old was she again? What would she do, if she had to tell others before she had even met them about some emergency? Her father's friend, the ship's captain, would not be coming back to Lightbridge for a month; he had made it clear that he would check on her upon his return. Her godparents were often in Calais, but she did not know when they would be back through Lightbridge. In her mind, she was truly on her own, with the world turning speedily around her.
She timidly climbed the stairs, moving slower as she approached the line-of-sight landing. But the room was empty, the bed made. She walked slowly, touching the brocade fabrics, smelling the sweet potpourri pots scattered around the room that could be a Lady's, admiring the rich details that her parents had never brought into their home: a fancy mirror, and the chamber pot had its own seat. Her eyes focused on various objects around the room, attempting to take it all in. She noticed that there was, on a small fine table, a slip of paper that turned out to be a note for her.
"Deerest Emma -- Wee apologize that Wee ere not heer for thine Arival. My Sister fell ill wi' th' Fever, an I musted leeve on a sydden. Goody Talbot musted leeve too Days hence for personal Reesons, so I bee especial sorry that I could not heer bee for Thee.
"I asked th' yong Sohn of th' Stable owner cross th' Way to come inn an mayke thee a Fyre on th' Nyte of thine Arival, so I hop that Hee did this wyll for thee. Mayke thyselfe a Home an Wee shud shortlee hither bee.
-- Sincerely, Goody Seamstress, NPC"Emma exhaled slowly, feeling as though she were breathing for the first time since she left the sea air of the port. Thank the Virgin: no dead bodies to find. She decided to wash herself up and look in the cupboards for some breakfast.
___________________________________
Sources
* Davies, A., R. Lipton, D. Richoux et al. "Thou, Thee, and Archaic Grammar: Pronoun Paradigms." Alt-Usage-English.org List Website.
* Kent Coast Sea Fishing Compendium. "Boat Fishing." Hagstone.net
* -- "Hythe, Dymchurch, St Mary's Bay, Littlestone, Greatstone & Lydd."
* "Kieser," "Sofya la Rus," SCA participant. "Medieval Knitting Notes."
* Museum of London. "Split-Brimmed Slashed Cap." Object description.
* Sweetinburgh, Sheila. _Later Medieval Kent, 1220-1540._ Preview at Google Books.
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