Read Online A Play of Piety by Margaret Frazer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Margaret Frazer
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a good place to go. He welcomed it.
So long as the dreams kept away.
Chapter 6
T he day was in its first easing from night toward the promise of a clear dawn when Joliffe left the other players and Rose to their breakfast of bread and cheese and returned on his own through the orchard and kitchen garden and passageway to the rear-yard, all still shadowy gray in half darkness. In the kitchen, though, a stub of candle burned on the middle of the worktable, casting its soft yellow glow across the faces of the four women gathered there. Only one of them was not familiar from yesterday, and as they all looked toward him with a mingling of welcome and curiosity he made a flourished bow to them with, “Good morrow, my ladies.”
They all smiled at that, and Sister Letice a little laughed, friendliwise, before Sister Margaret said crisply, “ ‘Sister’ is sufficient here,” and added to the others, “Someone wake me after Prime, please, if I’m not awake before.”
The others nodded and she left toward the passage past Joliffe’s room, to wherever the sisters’ dorter was, Joliffe presumed, while Sister Letice explained to him, “She was up much of the night. One of our men was in pain again.”
“Have you eaten yet this morning?” Sister Ursula asked.
When he willingly said he had not, she pushed a pottery pitcher and a wooden cup toward him along the table, and the woman not yet named to him drew a wooden platter with thick slices of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a bowl of butter from the middle of the table into his reach, giving him reason to look full at her for the first time as he thanked her. She was a broad woman with clever eyes and answered his thanks with a smiling nod as Sister Ursula said, “Sister Petronilla. Joliffe.”
He acknowledged her with a bow of his head that she returned before he took up a knife lying to hand and cut a piece from the cheese while Sister Ursula, apparently going back to what they had been saying, asked Sister Letice, “How much longer does Master Hewstere think it will be?”
“There’s no knowing. Whatever the fever is in him, it’s kept its hold longer than Master Hewstere thought it would. He says all that can be done now is to let the thing run its course.”
“And to pray,” Sister Petronilla suggested.
A little silence fell, maybe for that prayer. For the seemliness of it, Joliffe paused his eating and only began again on what proved to be day-old bread and dry cheese when Sister Ursula said, taking up the day’s business, “There now. So you know, Master Soule will do Prime this morning, but Father Richard will take the rest of the Offices and Mass again today.”
Joliffe did not see why that brought smiles and some smothered laughter around the table, and in answer to his puzzled look Sister Petronilla said to him, “It’s safer for Master Soule that way.”
That widened Sister Letice’s and Sister Ursula’s smiles, although the latter made obvious effort to curb hers as she said, “Enough. It’s time we were on with things.”
The women, done with breaking their fast, bowed their heads, each making her own murmured prayer of thanks. Joliffe again paused his eating until they had done. Then, as Sister Petronilla and Sister Letice left the table, Sister Ursula said to him, “I’ll show you your duties today.”
Mouth full, he nodded to that, washed down his last mouthful of bread and cheese with the ale that was strong enough but not of the best—these women assuredly did not keep themselves in ease here—set his cup down with the others left on the table, bent his head in a quickly muttered grace, and raised his head to let Sister Ursula know he was ready for whatever came next.
What came next proved to be bed-pots.
As Sister Ursula explained while leading him to the hall, emptying and washing and returning the bed-pots to each man’s bed would be his first task every day.
“Now, you must understand that some of the men can rise to
So long as the dreams kept away.
Chapter 6
T he day was in its first easing from night toward the promise of a clear dawn when Joliffe left the other players and Rose to their breakfast of bread and cheese and returned on his own through the orchard and kitchen garden and passageway to the rear-yard, all still shadowy gray in half darkness. In the kitchen, though, a stub of candle burned on the middle of the worktable, casting its soft yellow glow across the faces of the four women gathered there. Only one of them was not familiar from yesterday, and as they all looked toward him with a mingling of welcome and curiosity he made a flourished bow to them with, “Good morrow, my ladies.”
They all smiled at that, and Sister Letice a little laughed, friendliwise, before Sister Margaret said crisply, “ ‘Sister’ is sufficient here,” and added to the others, “Someone wake me after Prime, please, if I’m not awake before.”
The others nodded and she left toward the passage past Joliffe’s room, to wherever the sisters’ dorter was, Joliffe presumed, while Sister Letice explained to him, “She was up much of the night. One of our men was in pain again.”
“Have you eaten yet this morning?” Sister Ursula asked.
When he willingly said he had not, she pushed a pottery pitcher and a wooden cup toward him along the table, and the woman not yet named to him drew a wooden platter with thick slices of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a bowl of butter from the middle of the table into his reach, giving him reason to look full at her for the first time as he thanked her. She was a broad woman with clever eyes and answered his thanks with a smiling nod as Sister Ursula said, “Sister Petronilla. Joliffe.”
He acknowledged her with a bow of his head that she returned before he took up a knife lying to hand and cut a piece from the cheese while Sister Ursula, apparently going back to what they had been saying, asked Sister Letice, “How much longer does Master Hewstere think it will be?”
“There’s no knowing. Whatever the fever is in him, it’s kept its hold longer than Master Hewstere thought it would. He says all that can be done now is to let the thing run its course.”
“And to pray,” Sister Petronilla suggested.
A little silence fell, maybe for that prayer. For the seemliness of it, Joliffe paused his eating and only began again on what proved to be day-old bread and dry cheese when Sister Ursula said, taking up the day’s business, “There now. So you know, Master Soule will do Prime this morning, but Father Richard will take the rest of the Offices and Mass again today.”
Joliffe did not see why that brought smiles and some smothered laughter around the table, and in answer to his puzzled look Sister Petronilla said to him, “It’s safer for Master Soule that way.”
That widened Sister Letice’s and Sister Ursula’s smiles, although the latter made obvious effort to curb hers as she said, “Enough. It’s time we were on with things.”
The women, done with breaking their fast, bowed their heads, each making her own murmured prayer of thanks. Joliffe again paused his eating until they had done. Then, as Sister Petronilla and Sister Letice left the table, Sister Ursula said to him, “I’ll show you your duties today.”
Mouth full, he nodded to that, washed down his last mouthful of bread and cheese with the ale that was strong enough but not of the best—these women assuredly did not keep themselves in ease here—set his cup down with the others left on the table, bent his head in a quickly muttered grace, and raised his head to let Sister Ursula know he was ready for whatever came next.
What came next proved to be bed-pots.
As Sister Ursula explained while leading him to the hall, emptying and washing and returning the bed-pots to each man’s bed would be his first task every day.
“Now, you must understand that some of the men can rise to
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