not lit, but I can pull the feather bed up to my chin and write in peace, even though the candle flame spits and sputters in the wind and I have twice overturned the ink.
The magpie's water was frozen over this morning, so I have covered all the cages with kirtles and gowns and mantles to keep my birds warm. Mayhap they will think it night until God warms the world again.
9 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Wolfeius, first hermit in No folk
God's knees! A person can only wear one gown and one kirtle at a time, so why are my mother and her ladies making such a fuss about my covering the bird cages with their spare ones! I
cannot believe they would want my poor birds to freeze to death.
I will have plenty of time to think on this, for I am imprisoned in the solar, brushing feathers and seed and bird dung off of what seems enough clothing for the French army. I see no deliverance. Perkin is busy with his grandmother. Aelis is in London with the king. George and Thomas are from home much these days, riding and drinking and amusing other people and not me. God's knees, I might as well be an orphan.
10 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Eulalia, virgin and martyr, who spat at her judge and was burned alive
God's nails, Morwenna is in a sour temper today. Every time I open my mouth, she cracks my knuckles with her spindle.
11 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Daniel, who lived thirty-three years atop a pillar
Morwenna threatens to truss me like a goose and dump me in the river if I continue in my quest for the perfect profanity. God's chin! She treats me like a child.
12 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saints Mercuria, Dionysia, Ammonaria, and the other Ammonaria, holy women killed by heathens
I have chosen. God's thumbs! What a time I have had in deciding. I chose God's thumbs because thumbs are such important things and handy to use. I thought to make a list of all the things I could not do without my thumbs, like writing, plaiting my hair, and pulling Perkin by his ear, but now it seems to me to be a waste of paper and ink, for I can think of no purpose for such a list unless some heathen Turk came from across the sea and threatened to cut off my thumbs with
his golden sword and I was able to convince him to spare my thumbs by reading him my list of how important thumbs are, but since it seems unlikely both that a Turk would threaten my thumbs and that a list would stop him if he did, I shall save the time and the ink and not make a list.
13 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Judoc, whose hair and heard grew after his death and had to he trimmed by his followers
Storm again today. George and Thomas are still gone, but we are cooped up in here like chickens in a hen house. I stayed out of Morwenna's sight so she would not set me to some lady-task. I used the time to wonder and have made a wondering song:
Why aren't fingers equal lengths?
What makes cold?
Why do men get old and bald
And women only old?
When does night turn into day?
How deep is the sea?
How can rivers run uphill?
What will become of me?
14 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Hybald, abbot of our own Lincolnshire. I wonder if he is a relative
I am in disgrace today. Grown quite weary with my embroidery, with my pricked fingers and tired eyes and sore back, I kicked it down the stairs to the hall, where the dogs fought and slobbered over it, so I took the soggy mess and threw it to the pigs.
Morwenna grabbed me by the ear and pinched my face. My mother gave me a gentle but stern lecture about behaving like a lady. Ladies, it seems, seldom have strong feelings and, if they
do, never never let them show. God's thumbs! I always have strong feelings and they are quite painful until I let them out, like a cow who needs to give milk and bellows with the pain in her teats. So I am in disgrace in my chamber. I pray Morwenna never discovers that being enchambered is no punishment for me. She would find some new torture, like sending me to
The magpie's water was frozen over this morning, so I have covered all the cages with kirtles and gowns and mantles to keep my birds warm. Mayhap they will think it night until God warms the world again.
9 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Wolfeius, first hermit in No folk
God's knees! A person can only wear one gown and one kirtle at a time, so why are my mother and her ladies making such a fuss about my covering the bird cages with their spare ones! I
cannot believe they would want my poor birds to freeze to death.
I will have plenty of time to think on this, for I am imprisoned in the solar, brushing feathers and seed and bird dung off of what seems enough clothing for the French army. I see no deliverance. Perkin is busy with his grandmother. Aelis is in London with the king. George and Thomas are from home much these days, riding and drinking and amusing other people and not me. God's knees, I might as well be an orphan.
10 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Eulalia, virgin and martyr, who spat at her judge and was burned alive
God's nails, Morwenna is in a sour temper today. Every time I open my mouth, she cracks my knuckles with her spindle.
11 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Daniel, who lived thirty-three years atop a pillar
Morwenna threatens to truss me like a goose and dump me in the river if I continue in my quest for the perfect profanity. God's chin! She treats me like a child.
12 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saints Mercuria, Dionysia, Ammonaria, and the other Ammonaria, holy women killed by heathens
I have chosen. God's thumbs! What a time I have had in deciding. I chose God's thumbs because thumbs are such important things and handy to use. I thought to make a list of all the things I could not do without my thumbs, like writing, plaiting my hair, and pulling Perkin by his ear, but now it seems to me to be a waste of paper and ink, for I can think of no purpose for such a list unless some heathen Turk came from across the sea and threatened to cut off my thumbs with
his golden sword and I was able to convince him to spare my thumbs by reading him my list of how important thumbs are, but since it seems unlikely both that a Turk would threaten my thumbs and that a list would stop him if he did, I shall save the time and the ink and not make a list.
13 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Judoc, whose hair and heard grew after his death and had to he trimmed by his followers
Storm again today. George and Thomas are still gone, but we are cooped up in here like chickens in a hen house. I stayed out of Morwenna's sight so she would not set me to some lady-task. I used the time to wonder and have made a wondering song:
Why aren't fingers equal lengths?
What makes cold?
Why do men get old and bald
And women only old?
When does night turn into day?
How deep is the sea?
How can rivers run uphill?
What will become of me?
14 TH DAY OF D ECEMBER ,
Feast of Saint Hybald, abbot of our own Lincolnshire. I wonder if he is a relative
I am in disgrace today. Grown quite weary with my embroidery, with my pricked fingers and tired eyes and sore back, I kicked it down the stairs to the hall, where the dogs fought and slobbered over it, so I took the soggy mess and threw it to the pigs.
Morwenna grabbed me by the ear and pinched my face. My mother gave me a gentle but stern lecture about behaving like a lady. Ladies, it seems, seldom have strong feelings and, if they
do, never never let them show. God's thumbs! I always have strong feelings and they are quite painful until I let them out, like a cow who needs to give milk and bellows with the pain in her teats. So I am in disgrace in my chamber. I pray Morwenna never discovers that being enchambered is no punishment for me. She would find some new torture, like sending me to
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