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Authors: Mari Griffith
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herself.
‘Witchcraft,’ she whispered in the darkness.
CHAPTER FOUR
September 1435
––––––––
S eptember was one of the busiest months of the year on the monastery’s manor farm. The harvest was barely home when Michaelmas was upon them. Hiring fairs were in full swing and not only were the quarterly rents due to be paid, but Abbot Harweden would also want to see the accounts for the whole year, and reckoning was not one of William Jourdemayne’s greatest talents. He hated doing it so much that he always found something else to do instead, putting it off until the very last moment, then becoming agitated about it. So he was more than grateful the new dairymaid had proved her claim to be able to keep account. Surprisingly, she appeared to be quite at ease with reckoning.
For her part, Jenna had been delighted to help, pleased to be entrusted with the responsibility of helping the Master in this way, even though she had only been working at the farm for little more than two months. Though the old days at Kingskerswell were slipping further and further into memory, she would always be able to use the skills she’d learned under the enthusiastic tuition of Parson Middleton. She could read moderately well, but her real talent was for figures and she was easily able to add up simple numbers in her head. But these days, when it came to more complicated calculations, she relied on using an abacus. Since she had never had occasion to use one before arriving at Eybury farm, it had taken more than a little determination to master the techniques required. But, having been shown the basic principles, she could now achieve correct answers to the most complicated calculations with impressive speed and unfailing accuracy.
In the small room behind the brewhouse which served as the tenant-farmer’s office, she sat across the table from the Master, a small frown of concentration on her forehead and a quill pen held awkwardly in her hand. The abacus lay on the table to one side and she was checking a column of figures on an accounts roll in front of her, her lips moving silently.
William watched her for a moment. ‘I do appreciate you doing this, Jenna,’ he said. ‘I confess it doesn’t come easily to me.’
Jenna looked up from her work. ‘That’s all right, master,’ she said, ‘though it’s much more difficult reckoning than I’m used to. The milk tallies are easy compared with this. But it does make sense eventually.’
She took a breath, hesitated a moment, and then spoke again. ‘You know, master, looking at what you’ve got here, I’m sure we could do better with the hens and geese. I do know about those. Each hen should be laying enough to give you four silver pence a year at market and if you were to buy another four dizzen –’
‘Dozen?’
‘Yes, four dozen hens, that would be a profit of one hundred and ninety-two pence a year for the farm, not for the monastery. The monks keep their own hens up there to provide for the refectory.’
‘Haven’t got time for hens,’ William said.
‘But ... just another three or four dozen birds...’
‘Neats are our main concern,’ he said, ‘then sheep. We only keep hens to provide eggs for the kitchen.’
‘Well, I’d look after them for you, and maybe I could take the extra eggs to market in Chelsea each week. Young Kitty could help me. It would teach her a bit of responsibility.’
‘Perhaps, one day,’ William said. ‘We’ll see.’
That seemed to be an end to it. But William’s expression softened. ‘By the way,’ he asked, ‘how is Kitty? I haven’t seen her lately.’
‘Kitty seems very happy,’ Jenna said, putting the abacus away tidily in its box. ‘She’ll make a fine dairymaid when she’s a bit older.’
‘Her mother was a good dairymaid. And if Kitty is half as good as Elizabeth was, she’ll do well. Perhaps she’ll be nearly as good as you are.’
Jenna smiled. She’d had to concede the argument about
‘Witchcraft,’ she whispered in the darkness.
CHAPTER FOUR
September 1435
––––––––
S eptember was one of the busiest months of the year on the monastery’s manor farm. The harvest was barely home when Michaelmas was upon them. Hiring fairs were in full swing and not only were the quarterly rents due to be paid, but Abbot Harweden would also want to see the accounts for the whole year, and reckoning was not one of William Jourdemayne’s greatest talents. He hated doing it so much that he always found something else to do instead, putting it off until the very last moment, then becoming agitated about it. So he was more than grateful the new dairymaid had proved her claim to be able to keep account. Surprisingly, she appeared to be quite at ease with reckoning.
For her part, Jenna had been delighted to help, pleased to be entrusted with the responsibility of helping the Master in this way, even though she had only been working at the farm for little more than two months. Though the old days at Kingskerswell were slipping further and further into memory, she would always be able to use the skills she’d learned under the enthusiastic tuition of Parson Middleton. She could read moderately well, but her real talent was for figures and she was easily able to add up simple numbers in her head. But these days, when it came to more complicated calculations, she relied on using an abacus. Since she had never had occasion to use one before arriving at Eybury farm, it had taken more than a little determination to master the techniques required. But, having been shown the basic principles, she could now achieve correct answers to the most complicated calculations with impressive speed and unfailing accuracy.
In the small room behind the brewhouse which served as the tenant-farmer’s office, she sat across the table from the Master, a small frown of concentration on her forehead and a quill pen held awkwardly in her hand. The abacus lay on the table to one side and she was checking a column of figures on an accounts roll in front of her, her lips moving silently.
William watched her for a moment. ‘I do appreciate you doing this, Jenna,’ he said. ‘I confess it doesn’t come easily to me.’
Jenna looked up from her work. ‘That’s all right, master,’ she said, ‘though it’s much more difficult reckoning than I’m used to. The milk tallies are easy compared with this. But it does make sense eventually.’
She took a breath, hesitated a moment, and then spoke again. ‘You know, master, looking at what you’ve got here, I’m sure we could do better with the hens and geese. I do know about those. Each hen should be laying enough to give you four silver pence a year at market and if you were to buy another four dizzen –’
‘Dozen?’
‘Yes, four dozen hens, that would be a profit of one hundred and ninety-two pence a year for the farm, not for the monastery. The monks keep their own hens up there to provide for the refectory.’
‘Haven’t got time for hens,’ William said.
‘But ... just another three or four dozen birds...’
‘Neats are our main concern,’ he said, ‘then sheep. We only keep hens to provide eggs for the kitchen.’
‘Well, I’d look after them for you, and maybe I could take the extra eggs to market in Chelsea each week. Young Kitty could help me. It would teach her a bit of responsibility.’
‘Perhaps, one day,’ William said. ‘We’ll see.’
That seemed to be an end to it. But William’s expression softened. ‘By the way,’ he asked, ‘how is Kitty? I haven’t seen her lately.’
‘Kitty seems very happy,’ Jenna said, putting the abacus away tidily in its box. ‘She’ll make a fine dairymaid when she’s a bit older.’
‘Her mother was a good dairymaid. And if Kitty is half as good as Elizabeth was, she’ll do well. Perhaps she’ll be nearly as good as you are.’
Jenna smiled. She’d had to concede the argument about
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