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Authors: Siri Mitchell
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the sea in the air and hear the gulls cry. I could lick the corners of my lips and taste salt upon them. But I knew it was just the memory of my tears.
In London there was the River Thames and there were ships aplenty, but it was not the same. Where the sea winds sweetened the smells of King’s Lynn, there was no breeze stiff enough to cleanse the streets of London. And winds skimming up off the Thames brought the river’s own stink with them. Scavengers employed by the city’s wards wandered the streets, making certain that people were disposing of their refuse responsibly. There were public cisterns for emptying the contents of closestools and chamber pots. But still the streets were filled with ashes and kitchen stuffs. And though there were common privies aplenty, every alley was used as a latrine. Building crowded against building and together they all leant forward to meet at angles above the centers of the streets. There were corners in London the sun would never reach.
But there was one thing which enchanted me about the city: I loved the swans that floated on the river with their long elegant necks, ever curving, ever swaying, swimming about in games, like so many nobles upon the water. They were so populous that at times the wherries transporting people from one side of the river to the other seemed to part and swirl them into snowdrifts.
One day, as Joan and I were rowed to Southwark to stroll in Paris Garden, the lure of their down proved irresistible.
“May I . . . would they let me . . . pet them?” The oarsman had probably never heard a request more daft.
“Pet them? They’d let you feed them. Daresay they’d let you take them home, except see those nicks in its beak? There’s five.
Means that’s Her Majesty’s bird. She catches you, you’ll spend a year in Newgate.” He barked a laugh, then bent to rummage in a sack. “Here, lady.” He tossed a crust of bread onto my lap.
I reached out a hand to the swan and she reached out her neck toward me. She nuzzled my hand, looking for the crust, and allowed me to pet her for the briefest moment before taking possession of her prize and heading back to her game.
I wished all my hours could have been spent so pleasantly.
Most days I accompanied the earl to court. At least after that second disastrous appearance, he waited for me. And if he could not, then he made some provision for my transport.
In time I became accustomed to my role. It was not a difficult one to execute. I had only to stand, for the better part of the day, at court. Often there was dancing or other entertainment in the evenings. Occasionally there was a state dinner, presided over by the Queen, at which I would take my place at the table next to the earl.
I observed the swift changes in fashion that swept the court with the regularity of the tides. Had some lady worn a particularly pleasing shade of yellow with indigo? Then in the next days, the fashion was echoed by all the courtiers and their wives. Had some lord added extra buttons to his doublet? Then so did another, only he had them done up with emeralds. And another in rubies. And then a third had both emeralds and rubies worked into the hem of his cloak and a new fashion for cloaks had been created. I did not know how the Earth could contain enough jewels to supply Her Majesty’s court.
I also soon discovered that there was one lamentable gap in my training, one area in which I had been left ignorant: I had been told nothing of the life of a courtier. But then perhaps it was because there was nothing of substance to be told.
As I watched the court, day after day, I came to the conclusion that if it was the duty of the women of the court to display the wealth of their husbands, then it was the courtier’s job to seize every opportunity and turn it either to his advantage or to another courtier’s disadvantage. Did the others, like the earl, practice the courtly arts of dancing and playing music, jousting and leaping?
In London there was the River Thames and there were ships aplenty, but it was not the same. Where the sea winds sweetened the smells of King’s Lynn, there was no breeze stiff enough to cleanse the streets of London. And winds skimming up off the Thames brought the river’s own stink with them. Scavengers employed by the city’s wards wandered the streets, making certain that people were disposing of their refuse responsibly. There were public cisterns for emptying the contents of closestools and chamber pots. But still the streets were filled with ashes and kitchen stuffs. And though there were common privies aplenty, every alley was used as a latrine. Building crowded against building and together they all leant forward to meet at angles above the centers of the streets. There were corners in London the sun would never reach.
But there was one thing which enchanted me about the city: I loved the swans that floated on the river with their long elegant necks, ever curving, ever swaying, swimming about in games, like so many nobles upon the water. They were so populous that at times the wherries transporting people from one side of the river to the other seemed to part and swirl them into snowdrifts.
One day, as Joan and I were rowed to Southwark to stroll in Paris Garden, the lure of their down proved irresistible.
“May I . . . would they let me . . . pet them?” The oarsman had probably never heard a request more daft.
“Pet them? They’d let you feed them. Daresay they’d let you take them home, except see those nicks in its beak? There’s five.
Means that’s Her Majesty’s bird. She catches you, you’ll spend a year in Newgate.” He barked a laugh, then bent to rummage in a sack. “Here, lady.” He tossed a crust of bread onto my lap.
I reached out a hand to the swan and she reached out her neck toward me. She nuzzled my hand, looking for the crust, and allowed me to pet her for the briefest moment before taking possession of her prize and heading back to her game.
I wished all my hours could have been spent so pleasantly.
Most days I accompanied the earl to court. At least after that second disastrous appearance, he waited for me. And if he could not, then he made some provision for my transport.
In time I became accustomed to my role. It was not a difficult one to execute. I had only to stand, for the better part of the day, at court. Often there was dancing or other entertainment in the evenings. Occasionally there was a state dinner, presided over by the Queen, at which I would take my place at the table next to the earl.
I observed the swift changes in fashion that swept the court with the regularity of the tides. Had some lady worn a particularly pleasing shade of yellow with indigo? Then in the next days, the fashion was echoed by all the courtiers and their wives. Had some lord added extra buttons to his doublet? Then so did another, only he had them done up with emeralds. And another in rubies. And then a third had both emeralds and rubies worked into the hem of his cloak and a new fashion for cloaks had been created. I did not know how the Earth could contain enough jewels to supply Her Majesty’s court.
I also soon discovered that there was one lamentable gap in my training, one area in which I had been left ignorant: I had been told nothing of the life of a courtier. But then perhaps it was because there was nothing of substance to be told.
As I watched the court, day after day, I came to the conclusion that if it was the duty of the women of the court to display the wealth of their husbands, then it was the courtier’s job to seize every opportunity and turn it either to his advantage or to another courtier’s disadvantage. Did the others, like the earl, practice the courtly arts of dancing and playing music, jousting and leaping?
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