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Authors: Karen Cushman
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bread.
Jane continued. “I myself use a tea of black alder bark and smut rye to stop excessive bleeding, but I have heard that rubies, either worn on the body or ground to a powder and taken in warm wine, do even better, if the woman is lucky enough to own rubies and rich enough to let them be ground into…”
She never even noticed Alyce as the girl refilled her mug. Alyce returned to the shadows. “Will Russet,” she heard the midwife say to Magister Reese, “a boy from the village, tells me my apprentice is here at the inn. My former apprentice, might I say, for she ran away. You seen her here? Skinny girl with black curls and big sad eyes, afraid to say boo.”
Before Magister Reese could say nay or yea, the midwife went on. “She was not as stupid as some I have had, and better company, but still perhaps her going was for the best. She was not what I needed.”
“Because I failed,” whispered Alyce in the shadows.
“Because she gave up,” continued the midwife. “I need an apprentice who can do what I tell her, take what I give her, who can try and risk and fail and try again and not give up. Babies don’t stop their borning because the midwife gives up.” She landed her sharp glance on Magister Reese for a moment, drank off her ale in one long swig, and was gone.
----
14. The Manor
« ^ »
J ust before the road from the inn turns and makes for the village, there is a hidden path to the manor. Visitors use the main manor road, crossing through the gatehouse and past the apple trees and the stable. Some of the villagers know about the path, but few use it, for it passes too close to the dark woods. Alyce, in her comings and goings through the village, had come upon the path, although she had never before had need to follow it all the way up to the manor. Until one afternoon, when golden-yellow blossoms first appeared on the laburnum trees and Girtle the cow gave birth to her first calf, a sweet and sticky thing Alyce thought to call Rosebud, for she was as red as the hedgeroses near the village church.
As she watched Girtle nuzzle and suckle Rosebud and tuck her against her warm body to give the calf her warmth, Alyce was filled with a sudden longing to go to the boy Edward at the manor and see for herself that he was there, fed and dry and content. Mayhap he was unhappy and longing for her and she would bring him back to the inn and take care of him as Girtle did Rosebud. For days she thought about this, and the more she thought, the righter it seemed.
She imagined Edward’s first sight of her at the manor. “Alyce, you have not forgot me,” he would cry, throwing his arms about her waist. “Have you come to take me away? I pray you have, for I am desolate here without you and as well am starving and beaten and forced to sleep outside in the snow and no one cares for me.” She would scoop the boy up in her arms and they would go together back to the inn and Alyce would take care of Edward and this would make her heart content.
All she needed was Edward and all would be well. She was certain of it. So one day when Jennet had gone to the market fair at Edenwick to buy a copper pot, a young pig, and a bit of lace for her best kirtle, and no guests but Magister Reese cluttered the table, Alyce put the cat in the stable so that he would not follow her and, the sun warming her wintry spirit, climbed to the manor on its gray-green hill.
Passing the village fields, she saw Roger Mustard and Thomas the Stutterer swinging their weed hooks and felt the familiar feelings in her chest and her throat, but turned her eyes away so she would not have to think about what she had had and what she had lost.
The manor was bustling in the sunshine. She went first to the barn, where the men were sharpening hoes and sickles in preparation for the summer hay cutting. “The boy Edward?” she asked a tall, red-nosed man. “The small boy who arrived after harvest to help with the threshing, is he still here?”
The
Jane continued. “I myself use a tea of black alder bark and smut rye to stop excessive bleeding, but I have heard that rubies, either worn on the body or ground to a powder and taken in warm wine, do even better, if the woman is lucky enough to own rubies and rich enough to let them be ground into…”
She never even noticed Alyce as the girl refilled her mug. Alyce returned to the shadows. “Will Russet,” she heard the midwife say to Magister Reese, “a boy from the village, tells me my apprentice is here at the inn. My former apprentice, might I say, for she ran away. You seen her here? Skinny girl with black curls and big sad eyes, afraid to say boo.”
Before Magister Reese could say nay or yea, the midwife went on. “She was not as stupid as some I have had, and better company, but still perhaps her going was for the best. She was not what I needed.”
“Because I failed,” whispered Alyce in the shadows.
“Because she gave up,” continued the midwife. “I need an apprentice who can do what I tell her, take what I give her, who can try and risk and fail and try again and not give up. Babies don’t stop their borning because the midwife gives up.” She landed her sharp glance on Magister Reese for a moment, drank off her ale in one long swig, and was gone.
----
14. The Manor
« ^ »
J ust before the road from the inn turns and makes for the village, there is a hidden path to the manor. Visitors use the main manor road, crossing through the gatehouse and past the apple trees and the stable. Some of the villagers know about the path, but few use it, for it passes too close to the dark woods. Alyce, in her comings and goings through the village, had come upon the path, although she had never before had need to follow it all the way up to the manor. Until one afternoon, when golden-yellow blossoms first appeared on the laburnum trees and Girtle the cow gave birth to her first calf, a sweet and sticky thing Alyce thought to call Rosebud, for she was as red as the hedgeroses near the village church.
As she watched Girtle nuzzle and suckle Rosebud and tuck her against her warm body to give the calf her warmth, Alyce was filled with a sudden longing to go to the boy Edward at the manor and see for herself that he was there, fed and dry and content. Mayhap he was unhappy and longing for her and she would bring him back to the inn and take care of him as Girtle did Rosebud. For days she thought about this, and the more she thought, the righter it seemed.
She imagined Edward’s first sight of her at the manor. “Alyce, you have not forgot me,” he would cry, throwing his arms about her waist. “Have you come to take me away? I pray you have, for I am desolate here without you and as well am starving and beaten and forced to sleep outside in the snow and no one cares for me.” She would scoop the boy up in her arms and they would go together back to the inn and Alyce would take care of Edward and this would make her heart content.
All she needed was Edward and all would be well. She was certain of it. So one day when Jennet had gone to the market fair at Edenwick to buy a copper pot, a young pig, and a bit of lace for her best kirtle, and no guests but Magister Reese cluttered the table, Alyce put the cat in the stable so that he would not follow her and, the sun warming her wintry spirit, climbed to the manor on its gray-green hill.
Passing the village fields, she saw Roger Mustard and Thomas the Stutterer swinging their weed hooks and felt the familiar feelings in her chest and her throat, but turned her eyes away so she would not have to think about what she had had and what she had lost.
The manor was bustling in the sunshine. She went first to the barn, where the men were sharpening hoes and sickles in preparation for the summer hay cutting. “The boy Edward?” she asked a tall, red-nosed man. “The small boy who arrived after harvest to help with the threshing, is he still here?”
The
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