was even smart and capable. Throughout history,
however, women had little say in their lives, less power, and no
credit for doing anything interesting. No, thank you.
I took Anna’s hand and she and I trailed the
maid down the hall, down a flight of stairs, and through a door.
I’d heard the voices from halfway down the stairs and guessed I’d
find many people where she was taking me, but was still completely
unprepared to step into a cavernous hall at the foot of the stairs
populated by more than a hundred people. The noise level didn’t
really change at our entrance, but plenty of heads swiveled toward
us and away again as the maid led us to an empty spot at the end of
a twenty-foot table.
The room was huge—a great hall in every
sense of the word. Window slits started at head high, and a
fireplace took up a portion of one wall, big enough for half a
dozen people to hide. Thick tapestries that looked like rugs filled
in the spaces between the windows. The room smelled of smoke,
unwashed bodies, roasted meat, and beer. Great. Just like that frat
party Elisa took me to in October.
A smaller table stood on a dais about six
feet away. Dafydd sat at it, accompanied by four men, all dressed
as he was in mail armor, cloak, and boots. He raised his glass to
me, the smirk thankfully absent, but I looked away and didn’t
return his greeting, turning instead to Anna. When in an awkward
social situation, having a little girl on your lap is an excellent
distraction.
“Are you ready to eat?” I asked her.
Anna nodded. The activity in the hall had
struck her uncharacteristically dumb. I hugged her close and talked
to her to fill the gap and put her at her ease. “It’s okay. We’ll
have some breakfast and then maybe we can go outside and see if
it’s a nice day.”
A serving maid brought a plate of biscuits
and another of fried eggs. Next to those she laid a carafe of an
unspecified liquid (mead?) and another plate of bread—flat and
unleavened. I glanced surreptitiously at my neighbor to my left. He
was using the flat bread as a plate.
“What’s that?” Anna asked.
“A trencher,” I said, without remembering
where I’d heard about them.
I pulled one to me and spooned the eggs onto
it. I offered Anna a biscuit with honey, which she took, moving off
my lap to kneel on the bench so she could reach the table better.
She wore a simple, undyed, linen dress, little boots, and cloak of
her own. Her hair stuck out all over her head in a curly mass that
we’d tamed with a head band. She also wore something that bore only
a passing resemblance to a diaper. She’d peed in the chamber pot
earlier, as she’d started waking dry more and more often at home,
but I wasn’t holding my breath about her being potty trained in a
day. If we stayed here very long, it was I, I suspected, who was
going to be trained, not her.
And then I shuddered, terrified that we
might stay here longer than a day. The more I surveyed the room and
these people, their total immersion in the thirteenth century
became more apparent.
Did they even have a phone? Were we going to
have to walk to the nearest town? Anna had mentioned horses, so
maybe we could ride, not that I had any skill in that
department.
“Are you okay?” I hugged Anna around the
waist and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She nodded, big eyes again. “I don’t see
Gramma.”
“If she were here, it would be hard to spot
her in this crowd,” I said. “But I don’t think she is. We’ll see
about finding her after breakfast.”
Covertly, I studied my neighbors, needing to
abandon this charade, get up and leave, but not sure how. No one
paid me any attention, even Dafydd, who now conferred closely with
a man on his right, his face turned away from me. Relieved, I slid
off the bench, picked up Anna, and sidled away from the table.
I really wanted to walk out the great front
double doors at the end of the hall. To do it, I’d have to cross a
fifty-foot gauntlet of people,
however, women had little say in their lives, less power, and no
credit for doing anything interesting. No, thank you.
I took Anna’s hand and she and I trailed the
maid down the hall, down a flight of stairs, and through a door.
I’d heard the voices from halfway down the stairs and guessed I’d
find many people where she was taking me, but was still completely
unprepared to step into a cavernous hall at the foot of the stairs
populated by more than a hundred people. The noise level didn’t
really change at our entrance, but plenty of heads swiveled toward
us and away again as the maid led us to an empty spot at the end of
a twenty-foot table.
The room was huge—a great hall in every
sense of the word. Window slits started at head high, and a
fireplace took up a portion of one wall, big enough for half a
dozen people to hide. Thick tapestries that looked like rugs filled
in the spaces between the windows. The room smelled of smoke,
unwashed bodies, roasted meat, and beer. Great. Just like that frat
party Elisa took me to in October.
A smaller table stood on a dais about six
feet away. Dafydd sat at it, accompanied by four men, all dressed
as he was in mail armor, cloak, and boots. He raised his glass to
me, the smirk thankfully absent, but I looked away and didn’t
return his greeting, turning instead to Anna. When in an awkward
social situation, having a little girl on your lap is an excellent
distraction.
“Are you ready to eat?” I asked her.
Anna nodded. The activity in the hall had
struck her uncharacteristically dumb. I hugged her close and talked
to her to fill the gap and put her at her ease. “It’s okay. We’ll
have some breakfast and then maybe we can go outside and see if
it’s a nice day.”
A serving maid brought a plate of biscuits
and another of fried eggs. Next to those she laid a carafe of an
unspecified liquid (mead?) and another plate of bread—flat and
unleavened. I glanced surreptitiously at my neighbor to my left. He
was using the flat bread as a plate.
“What’s that?” Anna asked.
“A trencher,” I said, without remembering
where I’d heard about them.
I pulled one to me and spooned the eggs onto
it. I offered Anna a biscuit with honey, which she took, moving off
my lap to kneel on the bench so she could reach the table better.
She wore a simple, undyed, linen dress, little boots, and cloak of
her own. Her hair stuck out all over her head in a curly mass that
we’d tamed with a head band. She also wore something that bore only
a passing resemblance to a diaper. She’d peed in the chamber pot
earlier, as she’d started waking dry more and more often at home,
but I wasn’t holding my breath about her being potty trained in a
day. If we stayed here very long, it was I, I suspected, who was
going to be trained, not her.
And then I shuddered, terrified that we
might stay here longer than a day. The more I surveyed the room and
these people, their total immersion in the thirteenth century
became more apparent.
Did they even have a phone? Were we going to
have to walk to the nearest town? Anna had mentioned horses, so
maybe we could ride, not that I had any skill in that
department.
“Are you okay?” I hugged Anna around the
waist and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She nodded, big eyes again. “I don’t see
Gramma.”
“If she were here, it would be hard to spot
her in this crowd,” I said. “But I don’t think she is. We’ll see
about finding her after breakfast.”
Covertly, I studied my neighbors, needing to
abandon this charade, get up and leave, but not sure how. No one
paid me any attention, even Dafydd, who now conferred closely with
a man on his right, his face turned away from me. Relieved, I slid
off the bench, picked up Anna, and sidled away from the table.
I really wanted to walk out the great front
double doors at the end of the hall. To do it, I’d have to cross a
fifty-foot gauntlet of people,
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