Here you may learn about the lives and tales of divers folke of our Companye…
MARY MILLER, her tale
THE FOOLS’ PUPPET THEATRE COMPANIE, their tale
LADY CECILY, a gentlewoman
ANGHARAD, a Cook
LADY ANNE, a gentlewoman
ANNYS, a basket maker
BESS, a milkmaid
DICCON, our barber-surgeon
LADY ELEANOR, a gentlewoman
LADY KATHRYN, a gentlewoman
MARGERY, a scrivener
MARTIN, a baker
MARY, Goodwyfe to Martin the baker
MATTHEW, a Cunning Man
NED, an archer
THOMAS, Master of the Parish
JULIANNA, a herbalist
NICK, ex-seaman gunner and now Man at Arms
The Tale of Angharad
My name is Angharad Waters (In Wales family names are oft given). I do not have my letters so Margery the scrivener is most kind in writing thys for me in return for some fyne biscotts.
I worked at Caerphilly Castle, the second largest castle after Windsor, where I was first a scullery maid and then a maid of all sorts, in the grayte kitchen. I love to cook and learned many receipts at my Nein’s (grandmother’s) fire. One daie, a group of men came on business with Lord Davyth. One was very fair of face and we did converse at length, as he held his master’s steed. He swayed me with soft words (remember I was of tender years) and told me of the wonders of Suffolke. In very truth, he turned my head and won my heart.
So I followed him and his fellows as they returned to Long Melford, a wool town of much import, neigh on to Gipswick, There we settled in Hall Street. We were not wedded but kept that fact close. All went well, for I worked in the kitchen at Kentwell Hall and my sweetheart became woodman there also. Both jobs were always needed on a Manor. They were glad of my Welsh receipts and I got on right well with the household and have many friends there.
My man took to the ale and often spent all his coins on it. In his cups he became a different man. He would swear and curse and our 2 childer were much affeared of him. One night he slipped and tumbled into the river and drowned. We were saddened but now felt it for the best. I continued wyth my position in the kitchen. Mistress Clopton was kind to the three of us and helped me get over my loss. Now I have many years upon me, and my sight is thick, my bones ache so I am released from the kitchen but did help when there were special affairs there. There are rumours of a royal visit soon, but I think this is idle talk.
I now have a small pension and have taken up with a good man and fellow countryman, Huw Williams. Each being of a like age, we both now travel with The Companye of Merrie Folke, where I make pottage to line their bellies and the Gentles seem to like my sweet meats and cheese tarts. The work is light and I like to be wyth them as they are cheerful and happy folke.
Soon I am afeared I must hang up my apron and sit in a special chair, that is by the side of my fire. Good neighbour Norman has made me thys but for thys year at least I will carry on with my good friends.
May Our Lord send His Blessings upon you and keep you safe.
The Tale of Lady Anne
Good day gentles and all those who hath their letters. I have been asked to set down my tale for thee. I took my first breath and lived in Biddenden, Kent. My natal day being the 26th of February but I have no knowledge of the year as this was not recorded but it was around the turn of the century.
As a young maid I was wont to call upon the poor and sick as is my Christian duty following the true Faith. I would assist the older gentlewomen giving out the Chulkhurst dole of bread and cheese on Easter Monday to the poor and needy. For you folk who do not know about this dole it is the legacy of the twins Elizabeth and Mary Chulkhurst who are famous in Biddenden as being born joined at the hips and shoulders. They went to their reward at the goode age of 34 and left land and monies to bring succour to the poor of the parish, the dole to be handed out each Easter Monday.
My dear father Edward is a wealthy cloth merchant who followed his own father into the trade. He produces fine cloth and supplies the Royal Court. We employ many weavers and people on his land as well as within our household. He is a good and kind master who pays his workers well and looks after them. Father is oft times to be seen at the Old Cloth Hall in the high street conducting business with the other clothiers and farmers who bring their wool to market. The village has causeways paved with slabs of Bethersden marble used by the pack animals carrying wool from the local farms and is said to be the envy of nearby villages.
My mother Elizabeth was a kind and gentle woman of good birth. She taught me my letters and about herbs that can be used for medicinal purposes and how to make salves, tinctures and balms. She was a very accomplished needlewoman and I learnt at her knee, how to broider and sew blackwork. I am able to play the recorder and lute and I enjoy dancing. Mother went to Court to be in the Queen’s household of Elizabeth of York as a gentlewoman but left when the old Queen died. Shortly after Queen Katherine of Aragon married King Henry she was back at Court. When I had some 16 summers mother took me to court also to be in the Queens’ household. The Queen was pleased to see my blackwork which she thought was very fine. This I was greatly honoured by, as she herself is known as the best blackwork broider at Court. I loved being at Court with all the feasts, jousts and excitement that it brought, as well as seeing the most handsome gentlemen.
When I was at court I met and married John. He is a wine merchant to the King and a gentleman. He was knighted for his many services to His Majesty and still travels very oft to France and The Rhineland and is noted for the good Malmsey wine he brings back on his return. To me he has always been a kind and gentle man and a most loving and attentive husband. We have 8 childer – 5 boys and 3 girls two of whom died in infancy.
My good husband and I do live in a pretty cott when not at Court. It has a large garden and an orchard of apple, pear, cherry and mulberries as well as a large physic and roots and wort garden, so we are very well provided for.
I do pray that you keep good health dear reader.
God go with you this day.
Lady Anne.
The Tale of Annys
My name is Annys and I am known now as a basket maker although ‘twas not always thus. My husband was a tailor in the very fine city of York and we had a most comfortable life, there being many a merchant willing to part with good coin for a new doublet and hose, but alas, we lived close by an ale house and, my fellow being rather too fond of its wares, we fell upon hard times. Afore long I found myself a widow, my husband having fallen into the Ouse one dark evening whilst he was in his cups. I beseeched my brother John to take mercy upon me and my two young childer. At that time I thanked God that he had taken unto His care three of my childer in infancy as John is but a basketmaker and could ill afford to take us in, having already a wife and daughters of his own to feed and clothe, together with two young apprentices.
John is a good and kind fellow and I am much beholden to him but I do my best to earn my keep. He taught me to fashion baskets and helped me to secure apprenticeships for my childer. Jack is now a grown man and little Mary will soon have completed her apprenticeship as a cook.
Alas, I will never make baskets such as those fashioned by my brother. He is a master craftsman and a member of the guild. He forms fine baskets for the gentry hereabouts. I help him by taking small commissions and fashioning repairs for the villagers and, in the summer, I journey with the Comanye of Merrie Folke to fayres where I can set up a stall and sell my wares.
John has the strength to work with hazel as well as willow but I choose to fashion all my baskets from willow which is slender, smooth and pliable. We dwell in Essex and willow is plentiful here, growing along the riverbanks. I help John with the harvest in the autumn, coppicing the osiers, tying the withies into bolts and setting them to dry. I will strip the willow too so John can use the white withies for platters and other fancy wares for fine gentlemen and ladies to use at board.
Betwixt us, we make baskets for keeping and carrying goods, fences for husbandry, traps for fishing, skeps and hoods for beekeeping, armour and arrow baskets, apple pickers and sieves, besom brooms… aught which is needed.
I thank God that I have been able to earn my keep and pray that, as my eyes fail me and my hands grow weary and knotted, I will continue to be useful to my brother and to serve God.
The Tale of Bess
Good Daie to one and all,
I am known in these parts as Bess, I have no learning to my name and the use of letters is beyond my wits, so I have told my tale to good Margery, the Scrivener, who hath writ down my words.
I do not rightly know the number of summers I have had in thys life so far. When I was a youngen I did go with my Mother to the Manor where I helped her with the cows, as she was a Dairy Maid. This was summer work and I got all my learning from my mother.
When I was grown, I met my good fellow and we were hand-fasted and then did marry. I had four childer, who through God‘s grace grew to be good men and women of this Parish. My good man went to his reward when my youngest had but five summers.
My Son, George, is a printer in the far off land of Prussia. Alas, I do not see him now. My daughter Mary lives in the town of Sheffield, this is many days journey from here but I do see her from tyme to tyme as her tasks permit. My other daughter, Kate, has little ones of her own and when the winter doth come I go to live with her to help with the little ones. My last son James was a man at arms and was killed in a battle, I sore miss him and pray that by God’s Grace he has gone to a better place.
As I have told thee I am a dairymaid. This job starts at Eastertide when the cows have their calves and finishes in October when their milk dries up. They are then put to the bull to give us calves at Eastertide. From around Michaelmas I live with my daughter Kate and her good man. I help with the childer. We also spin to bring in more coin. This place where we live is good sheep country. There is little other work for me over winter, so I sometimes join with the good Companye of Merrie Folke, where I can earn some coin as they travel from village to village selling their wares and showing their skills
May God go with you
Bess
The Tale of Lady Cecily
Good day to thee, fare you well?
I am much pleased to be asked to tell thee my story, for I live a life moste happy and full, praise be to God, who doth decide each soul’s station.
I am youngest of three childer, though mine eldest brother Matthew arrived in the world before his time and lived not, which brought much sorrow to my good mother and father.
My dear father holds a fine manor and lands in the fair county of Kent. He tells all that will listen that when he stands on our hill, he can see as far as a man can ride in a day. He employed a very fine tutor for my brother Richard, who is five summers older than I, and my father insisted that I should also benefit from this scholar’s teachings. I learnt my letters so I could read, and then also to write. I learned English, Latin, French, and my numbers so that I should not be at the mercy of any, and be able to run mine own household when I was of age to be wed. My father was moste kynde to me in this matter, and it shall never be forgot.
My lady mother wished for me to live my youth right full, and be much outside in the open air. We would walk in the gardens, and she would teach me about the plants and creatures we would see. She encouraged me to draw and paint these things, though she said she had no skill in this herself. She maintained that fresh air would help keep me in good humour and bring a colour to my cheek. My brother found entertainment in tennis and archery, but I would spend hours riding around the manor on my beautiful black mare Katherine, named after our good and kynde Queene, for she is as full of grace and majesty as her namesake.
When I had but 14 summers my father and mother were summoned to court by his Majesty the Kynge. They returned to Kent to tell me that I was to join the royal household as one of Queene Katherine’s ladies is waiting, a great honor indeed, but I had ne’er been away from home or family, and feared I would not do my duties well.
Soon my clothes and belongings were packed into chests, set on the cart of a tenant farmer paid well to take them to London. My father and I rode to Greenwich Palace where I was presented to Queene Katherine. She smiled kyndly and said she hoped that I would do well within her service.
Being of such tender years, I was the lowest of the Queene’s ladies for quite some time, until of course new maids joined the household, but my time at court was always moste happy. We would sit with Queene Katherine, sew with her, play instruments, read to her and learn from her. On occasion I would be excused to paint in the palace grounds, and the Queene and her ladies would come to see my endeavors. Her majesty was moste kynde in her compliments, and insisted that my paintings be finely framed. When the first were returned from the craftsman, Her Majesty was so taken with one of a wren that I made a gift of it to her. She said it was one of her favourite gifts from one of her favourite ladies.
Those were happy days indeed, but once two particular ladies came newly to court nought was as before, and in private the Queene could oft times be heard weeping within her chambers. Us ladies did all we could to lift her spirits, but though she smiled, she could not be cheered. This brought a heaviness to our hearts, as we did love Her Majesty most dear and it did grieve us all to see her in such distress, when we could do nought to assuage it.
During my service to the Queene, His Majesty the Kynge called for a grand tournament with pageants and masques to be performed by the Court. All the Queene’s ladies were given new silk gowns in pheasant red, and the gentlemen had doublets to match. We each had parts to play in the masque, and many dances to dance. It was here that I first encountered a very fine gentleman named William, dressed in blue velvet and newly arrived at Court. We danced much together, galliards, pavans and branles, and dined full well at the Kynge’s pleasure. My family were in attendance, and my father spake long with the gentleman William during the feasting, and then after Father spake with the Kynge himself. The following day I was told that I was to be betrothed to this gentleman. This news brought such emotions to me that I had ne’er felt before. Excitement aye, but a certain trepidation too. I prayed that I would be a good and dutiful wife and that William would be a kind and loving husband.
Praise God, that it has proved to be so, for we have been man and wife these five happy years, and blessed with two fine healthy boys, though we hope for more childer in time. We dwell but 20 miles from my family, and yet close to Court should my husband be called for by His Majesty. The Kynge has been most generous to William, and at Christmastide bestowed on him the honor of a Baronetcy, and thus I became Lady Cecily.
Daily I give thanks to God for my good fortune, and pray that he will make His face to shine upon my two precious boys and grant them their own good wives when they are of age.
God Bless thee dear reader and God save the Kynge.
The Tale of Diccon
The story of Diccon the barber-surgeon.
I was born in mid-summer in a village outside Great London Town, but in truth I know not the year of my birth. My father was a butcher of some renown, and life was a time of plenty, but those times were not to last. The Grete Pestilence came upon our village, it took my dear mother and forced my father to flee our home, taking me with him. He became a journeyman and plied his trade as butcher as he headed towards the Eastern counties. He settled in Sufolke and set up his stall in the shambles of St. Edmundsbury where he soon became known as an honest trader and made a good living. I assisted him in his endeavours, learning the craft of butchery and delivering flesche to the gentles who bought his wares.
As I grew in years and stature my good father realised that, as profitable as the business was, it would not keep us both, so when I had some 14 summers upon me, my father did prentice me to a barber-surgeon of his acquaintance. For, tis known, that a butcher and an executioner do have more knowledge of the anatomy than doth a learned physician, who doth all his knowing from books, and has never seen the inside of a human body.
I left my dear father’s home and went on the road with the barber-surgeon travelling from village to hamlet curing the poor cotters and learning my healing craft. He was a strict but fair master and I received equal sums of praise and stripes for my good works and my misdemeanours. My master had the good fortune to be recruited by the local Lord to act as surgeon on the battlefield during times of unrest, which position paid him a goodly wage, and as he took me with him as his boy, helped me to learn how to tend to battle wounds such as sword cuts and arrow piercings. It also helped hone my skills at limb amputation.
I was prenticed to the barber-surgeon for seven years, after which I struck out to seek my own living. I had put by me some coin which I had earned from my times in battle, and with that coin I had the blacksmith fashion me some instruments for my craft.
Ministering to the serfs and villaines who have little coin of their own, they pay for my services in kind. Mayhap some eggs, or ale, or cheese, or a bed for the night in a barn afore I move on to the next village. But in times of strife there is always some rich lord who will pay hansomly for the services of a surgeon to minister to his troops. So in this way have I earned my living through times of peace and war.
As I now reach the autumn of my years I am content to travel to country fayres and hirings to ply my healing trade to those who would have it. Should you have need of my skills to remove an errant tooth, or you have cause to call on my healing touch for anything that ails you, you will be sure to find me accommodating.
Diccon, by the Grace of God
The Tale of Lady Eleanor
Good people I greet you well.
There is no record of my natal day but I have an husband of these many summers past, who hath a position of import at Court, and he is want to let it be known.
When not called to be in attendance with my husband at Court I reside in one of my husband’s many Manors in both the counties of Suffolke and Essex, there to oversee the good running and provision of the households. In this I am most ably assisted by the stewards and the housekeepers, with many other divers servants also.
Oft times I will entertain my husband’s many guests, business folke and clients and am invited also to their own Manors and households in return.
I make good pastime with my many friends of the local gentry, oft times, when weather be clement, attending the many village fayres, which afford great entertainment for all. In these places there can be had dancing, games, practice at the butts and many other divers activities.
There also, the common sort can be cured of their ailments by the cunning man or for those with more coin or those wishing more certainty the barber-surgeon, who wilt also be most happy to engage in the drawing of teeth, the trimming of beards, or e’en the removal of broken or withered limbs.
By God’s Will and to our great sadness my husband and I have no childer. Yet to our great joy our houses ring with the raucous sound of many a man-child who, having reached seven summers, come into our household. In thys manner they serve us, in turn learning from our example of how to be the fine gentleman they will become and from their tutors the ways of letters, language, science and other learnings.
My good friend Sir Henry Parker doth assist in this matter by sending his archer Ned Punge to our Manors on occasion to train the childer in the art of shooting in the bow.
If Ned be upon the Manor when my good friends the Lady Kathryn and the Lady Anne be present, then good pastime is to be had at the butts to the great joy and sport of the ladies. Alas, despite the patience and skill that Ned hath, any training in the bow is of no avail to mine own self, as I am confounded twixt hand and eye, to the danger of all about me excepting the target. I think mayhap the French blood that doth course through my veins be the cause thereof.
On Holy daies I make good example to the household and tenants, attending at worship as all good subjects must and also see that the physic that be required to ensure the good health of soul and body of the many divers persons who depend upon our care for the same, be given them in timely manner.
May God Bless you and keep you in good health.
Lady Eleanor.
The Tale of The Fools Puppet Theatre Companie
It has been many a year that The Fool’s Puppet Theatre Companie, have travelled about the country in our cart telling our stories from village to village. Setting up our booth on village greenswards, at fayres and in taverns.
Ah, but where did it all begin?
I first set eyes on Euan when he fell over Mrs Brown’s pig. Euan was enjoying the effects of many a good mug of ale at The Bull Inn. As usual, the pig, which had got out of the garden, was snouting through the bushes by the road. Full on his face Euan fell and did look a right sight. Although his hose were all amuck and there was no sense in his drunken gibberish I was taken by his bright blue eyes and the soft tones of a man of Scotland. ‘Oh yes’ I thought, ‘I like the looks of you’, and he must have thought me good enough, for as tyme hath shown we are well married and love each other much
I was on a visit to Long Melford to help my sister nurse our ailing mother, who had taken a tumble from the cart, while going at an ungodly speed down the highway and into a rut. Although my mother is quite an age now she is a terror of the high way and has much liking for unwanton haste.
Now, at this time, Euan was a gardener at the Hall. Times were hard North of the border with hunger from want of work, as the crops were poor and sheep and cattle were lean on the bone from lack of good nourishment. So Euan travelled the long journey into England to find work. As he had a goodly knowledge of the workings of producing fat and juicy roots and werts, he found employment and took to lodging with a distant relation, right over the way from my mother.
That year there was many a good game of chance to be had in the Bull Inn. Euan was handy with the cards and imagine the surprise when the loser of the game did not have the coin to pay his debt. He did have a wheel fiddle though and that is now in the care of Euan. It is true that we have lost many a dog and cat from Euan’s learning of its ways but as you can now hear, t’is well enough. The current cat, Meg, seems to be not affected by the noise.
A Grate Fayre was planned for the celebration of a newborn boy at The Hall. We had the liking to take part and sat many a night by our fire pondering of what we could bring to the event. Of course the answer was right under our noses and under our finger tips also. I could sew and Euan could play the wheel fiddle most well, so what better way to demonstrate our skill than contrive a puppet play. Fabric was easy enough to find as myself and my neighbours had oddments of material left from the mending of garments and the worn out clothing of the childer. Of course, I could not make the heads out of wood for I had not the skill, so I came upon a cunning plan and mashed linen to a pulp instead. A hasty frame for the theatre was made from garden canes. Then we planned a story and set it to the music of the wheel fiddle.
Come the great day. What a surprise! There was much cheering and laughter as our puppets made their first appearance and the stage fell to pieces about us. But we were asked to perform our play to the Lord and Lady of the Manor. I was much afeared as we had only our Sabbath garb to present ourselves in and the play was but in the making. However there was coin to be made and that was the beginning of our newly found living.
It was not long after this that we fell in with The Companye Of Merrie Folke and did find them most pleasing. We have done many performances with them since, as well as the many we do on our own at privvy gatherings.
Naught is ever as simple as that and through many adventures we have developed a fine puppet show. Would you not visit with us and take witness yourself to the likes of “The Grate Wyrm” and other workings? The childer do give raucous voice to the proceedings but mayhap the elders make e’en more noise?
As told to the scrivener by Harold Brown, image by courtesy of Peter Elgar. If you have a wish to know more of thys Companie, please follow the path given in ‘Historical Links’
The Tale of Huw
Good friends, my name be Huw Williams, but some also call me John of Gwent. I was born I know not when, to my good parents Blodwyn and Thomas (God Rest their souls) in the reign of good King Hal, in the confines of Raglan Castle. There they served as kitchen maid and gardener to the Somerset family until they both sadly succumbed to the sweating sickness but a few years after they brought me, squealing, into the world.
This accursed illness did afflict many at this tyme, and was thought by some to be a punishment sent by God. The mistress of the castle, being of tender heart, and also being fond of my mother and father, did take me into her household and entrusted my care and upbringing to her cook and her husband who had lost their own child to the same dread disease. This did seem a most fortuitous circumstance and I came to love both Meg and Tom akin to myne own parents, and they too loved me in return.
My new mother and father (for thus I came to regard them), treated me right well. Mother Meg did teach me my letters (though I fear I was a poor student), by teaching me words from written receipts that she followed when cooking in the grayte kitchen. Father Tom did also educate me in the way of his forge, though once, I was too eager, and sustained a grayte burn from grasping iron tongs, new from the furnace. I recall the pain to this day, as I also recall the berating of him by my mother after she dried my tears and wrapped my burnt hand with a rag soaked in honey The stiffness in my hand remains with me still.
Under their grayte care, I grew both in knowledge and girth, until I was able to help good Tom with his labours, making cutlery, candlesticks and braziers for the house, forging, repairing and sharpening knives for the kitchen and a myriad of other duties.
The years passed and I yearned for new adventures, as my work in the forge, though it helped to build my body, I found it most repetitive. The master of the castle found himself in need of a strong arm to help protect both his home and family and although short in stature, I had a fiery nature and was right fond of a scrap, as many local fellows could attest. That is how I came to be trained in the sword, quarterstaff, and mace, and took my place as my master’s man at arms in which position, I served for many years. I oft times travelled with the Master when he roamed the country, as being skilled at the lists, he would travel far and wide seeking fresh competition. This is how in my latter years, I came upon my Angharad, a widow and most wondrous cook at Kentwell Hall who also hailed (much to my delight) from the land of the daffodil and leek, We took up with each other and lived over the stick for many a year but as we aged and our abilities began to fail, we were each given a great gift of a purse of silver pennies to comfort us in our dotage and were then released from our many years of service.
I thank God that He was smiling upon us, for at this tyme we came across The Companye of Merrie Folke, a band of travellers who peddle their skills and wares about the villages. They were in need of both a cook and a man skilled with the sword to protect them from brigands and thieves as they toured about. And so friend, this is where you find us still, and I pray God we will continue in this way until He calls us home.
If you have any coin to spare, I beg of you to think of us, and we we will remember you in our prayers.
Image by courtesy of Richard Lincoln.
The Tale of Julianna
My name is Julianna and I am a herbalist. In recent times, I have been travelling with The Companye of Merrie Folk, having learnt the ways of the stillroom at Kentwell Hall, a fine manor in Long Melford in the county of Suffolke, in which place I did stay for many a long year.
My natal day is in the summertime, but I know not the exact year. Being a poor relation of the Clopton family, I first set foot into the stillroom when I had but seven summers. I found this to be a most wondrous place, full of good and wholesome odours. I was dependant on the Clopton’s good graces and set myself to learn how to keep the good health of the manor, both for the Clopton’s and all those that worked thereon. In times past, high-born women would work within the stillroom so as to learn some of the skills to run their own households, but as gentlewomen no longer need these skills to achieve a good marriage, I have been fortunate to have been able to learn the ancient ways.
I married Peter a kind and loving man who did make me right happy. Three living sons followed, all strapping and well-grown men now, each skilled in their own way, one in very truth is prenticed to the Alchemist, a most unusual arrangement as ‘tis usual for a family to pay for the prenticeship but the good Dr Robert did have a liking for the lad, as he had a curiosity and much wits about him.
My good man Peter did die fighting for his county many a long year ago and I have remained in widowhood ever since.
As a herbalist I am gifted to know the ways of plants, being able to treat ought that may ail thee from those plants that are grown for that purpose and also from those that do abound and grow wild in the countryside. Although I do speak well of myself, I have much greater skill and knowledge in this way than any cunning man, who hath been taught but little and peddles his wares based on superstitions and beliefs. or even the barber-surgeon, although I cannot cut off a limb and in very truth I do wretch at the sight of blood and gore.
I have my own copper still, a thing of great beauty and a great improvement on the old stills formed by the hands of the potter, it being right quick, I can make a distillation of sweet water in a short time instead of it taking most of the daie. Distilling is one way to preserve the qualities of the herbs when they are not within the ground and allows me to use them year-round. My time is oft spent preserving herbs into salves, oils decoctions and the like, lest I lose the use of the base plants if they have not grown. I do only need to preserve them, until by the Grace of God they grow again.
God give thee good day and may He grant thee all good health
Julianna
The Tale of Lady Kathryn
I was named after the great queen Kathryn of Aragon and was born into a family of good lineage but was only addressed as ‘lady ‘upon marriage to my first husband. We wed young and soon two childer did follow. My parents were well pleased as I had given my husband sons and carried out my duty twice over. In truth, three daughters and another son have followed.
My father is a wealthy merchant and goldsmith with a house and many messuages in London city and was a kinde father to me and allowed me my letters in order to rise above my station should it be God’s will. In truth this came to be. My husband too is a kind man and will consult with me on many matters, in private, though he does expect me to still my tongue when he conducts his business in the parlour with his collegues. Our London address is close to St Pauls and often when I go abroad with my maid and man at arms, I often dally in the courtyards there to gleen the latest gossip and so keep abreast of what is happening in the capitol. Our country house in Chelmsford (the very wilds of Essex) is quite a different matter as it is large and sprawling and I must keep my household of servants in order.
Upon visiting, my husband’s family sorely wish I would take a birch to them as they appear to them ill- humoured and restless and wishing me to instill upon my servants precise and timely London ways, yet I have not the heart to berate them for being ordinary folke.
Our family time in the country is of great ease and reminds me of my own upbringing. I respect that God, in his wisdom created all in their station and it is no fault of theirs that they do seek honest work from me to support themselves. I give them quarter and only chastise if their misdemeanours be grave. My husband is also indulgent in these matters. – even as I am fond of entertaining a cunning man from Ingatestone when he calls to offer his herbs and strange ‘wisdoms.’
I am a woman with the experience of travel as before our sons were born, I accompanied my husband upon a venture to the Low countries. In truth I found it to be much like Norfolk, flat and wet. Even my home county of Essex has mild hills and ridges that rise gently into the horizon and where upon villages have always stood for safety built by ancient people. I thank God for my position in life. I have fine clothes and respect and converse in Latin with many of my husband’s friends when we dine in London. I am well provided for, not only by my husband who gifts me jewels and fine silks for gowns but my father who ensured I have control over some money protected for me in a jointure, so not everything I brought to my marriage became my husband’s. I thank the lord for my life, though I do not make great play as to my religion. It is a wise woman who keeps her wits about her and her own council. Whilst Kings and Queens may shuffle the cards of fortune I am much more at home with simple pleasures and thank the Lord for my blessings.
Lady Kathryn
The Tale of Margery
I am Margery Bonney, scrivener to any that have need of writing or reading to be done. I will take a little coin or arrange a simple barter as in these hard times there is less coin about. I am most oft to be found in the market on most daies.
I was born around the Midsummer Quarter Daie in the fair month of June and raised to stitch cloth as my father who was a tailor bid me. He had no coin to spare that I might have been taught , also he was one who believed that a maid could not learn so it would be a waste of good coin to try.
I married a tailor in Coxhall and stitched cloth for him also until mayhap some 4 summers since until the vexation that I felt whenever I saw letters which I knew not had grown within me and I vowed that I would teach myself enough to understand. I paid a scrivener to write the letters out for me and I practised each daie until I could write with a faire hand. Word spread that I could do thys and folk began to ask me to write for them as well as to read to them also as there be many who cannot read at all. The same good woman taught me a little to read and I have improved myself in that way also.
I can read most forms of letters as well as to copy for I do not have to understand in order to copy.
I live in a cott with my good man and have some dirt where I may grow roots and worts with some flowers to brighten up the gloomy place inside since we have only shutters to close at night. It is said that a posy of flowers held to the nose will guard against the grate pestilence, so I grow some for thys purpose also.
God did not bless my good man and I with childer but we live a good life with enough tailoring to let us pay rent and for food, as well as what I earn with my quill. I like not to think of the future when perhaps the work has gone, mayhap my eyes dimmed and without childer to support us in our dotage. I know many folk in these parts since I began to go about each daie to walk in the sweet air so mayhap folke will take pity on us if we fall on hard times, as we have shown pity to others.
I commit you to God’s Care
Margery
The Tale of Martin
A Bakers Tale
Many generations past, my forebears were in service to the Earl of Suffolk, Michael de la Pole, who in turn owed his allegiance to the King. So when the call came for an army to be raised to fight the French the Earl took with him 20 men at arms and 200 archers to France in the Kings service, of which my grand parent was one of the archers.
During the morning of the battle of Agincourt the Earl became isolated and under attack from the French knights. My grand father was close to hand and assisted the Earl in beating off the attack by killing a knight to save the Earl’s life. In recognition of his bravery the Earl allowed my grand father to use the knights emblem as his own and so being a baker by trade the Dragons Head Bakehouse was founded. For many years the bake-house provided the good folk of Gippeswick sound bread. The Earl fought again the same day but this time was killed in another skirmish. The 2nd Earl on succeeding his father issued a charter to my grand father to allow him to travel this county to bake bread wherever he settled. This charter has been passed down the eldest male line of the family and it is thus as no county had been named we now travel the land to fayers to provide food for our good Companye under the charter directives.
My good wife has worked along side me for some 34 summers now, during which time, by the grace of god, we have had 4 healthy childer, one of whom is now a merchant, another a builder, our daughter has a love for horses and works as an ostler, and our last studies his numbers to be an accomptant. Our day usually has an early start whether we are in our bake-house or on the road in the Pavilion, for the oven must be made ready to bake the days vitiates so must be made hot early.
Baking bread, biscots and manchats take most of our day but sometime if there is no sotler within the company we would also provide the potage as well as bread for the diner for all the companye as all must be fed.
Once the baking is done we must re stock our fuel and search out old wood for the next days firing.
On good dry days and every Sunday we would practise our longbow skills, as all my fore fathers have before me, in case there is again a need for archers to go to war.
The Tale of Goodwyfe Mary
It hath oft been asked of me by my childer what my life was like as a little girl growing into a young woman and whether I have noticed many changes over the decades that my life, by the grace of God, doth now span.
So, I beset myself the task of remembering many things, and telling of such happenings, before my wits become addled with age.
I am blessed wyth both older and younger siblings and though ‘twould have been easy to overlook a small, well-rounded baby born in the midst of a busy family, my loud and persistent desire to babble and talk meant that I was in truth rather a forward child.
God hath granted me a quick mind (and sometimes a sharp wit) which is why Martin was chosen as my husband, as he needed a wife able to manage and support hys business – he is a baker.
After a short courtship we married and were gifted by God four healthy living childer all of whom hath now completed apprenticeships in their chosen trades, tho’ experience continues to create changes and developments for each of them.
As a baxter, a female baker, of many years now, some 34 if my calculations are correct, I am well-versed in anticipating my husband’s busyness needs and we do work well alongside each with the other. Much of the chopping and fetching of wood is done by my husband albeit I usually make the faggots for lighting in the oven. As well as common loaf and white bread manchets we bake many pies, pastries, biscots, scone breads and flatbreads all with a variety of flavours, fruits and spices. Bread can be finished in many ways. Shouldst thou wish a hard crust then water sprinkled on the dough whilst baking, or a pot of water placed in the oven near to the dough will bring a crispness to the top. Milk brushed upon the loaf or manchets before baking will make a soft top to the dough. Brushing with egg will create a shine as well as allow seeds to stick to the top of the dough.
The day starteth early as folk wish to enjoy fresh bread to break their fast. Depending on which oven we are using, a good fire lit within for an hour or more giveth a strong enough heat to do a first bake. Oft times there is little need for the oven to be used by the middle of the afternoon so the doorway will be filled with any faggots or small wood pieces so that they may be exceeding dry to give a good heat on the following morn.
After all cleansing and preparation be done for the next day we will discuss together requirements for the next day before I then set about my own household tasks, such as I may fit in, heretofore preparing things for our supper. Customarily Martin will be breathing most heavily while he resteth his eyes at this point.
And, aye, he doth snore mightily so that I am fearful that the walls of our cot will collapse much as the city wall did in Jericho, or that the pitcher upon the board of warming buttermilk and yeast will crash to the floor making much labour for the succeeding day.
Goodwyfe Mary of the Dragon’s Head Bakhus
The Tale of Mary Miller
Friend, my name is Mary Miller, I was born in the village of Coggeshall, in which year I know not, as both my parents went to their reward when I was but a small child, and I was raised by nuns in a nearby convent. Though I owe them my very life, I hated the strict discipline I was forced to endure. Getting up in the middle of the night for lauds, then again at first light for prime, then sext at midday and so on. My life was an endless round of prayer and chores in the grayte kitchen.Though I was not a nun, nor even a novice, it was thought that a strict regime would be good for my soul and keep me from sin, though what sin I could commit as a young child which would make me burn in hell, I know not.
Each day was the same and the beatings I had at the hands of Sister Angelique bred in me a rebellious streak, I bear the marks of her switch to this day, and I vowed to leave the confines of the convent as soon as I was able to make my own way in the world. Working in the kitchen though I picked up many skills, for as I grew, Sister Boniface gave me more responsibility and I was soon helping her prepare the simple meals for all of the sisters and even the priest when he came to conduct Mass.
Sister Boniface was so kind and understanding, but even so, when I had about fourteen summers, I resolved to leave the convent and strike out on my own. Under cover of night I collected my few meagre belongs, wrapped them in an old rag and crept through the cloisters and out into the world.
I made my way (after many days of sleeping under bushes, in ditches or under carts), living off berries and what fruits I could find growing wild to the town of St Edmondsbury, where, to my shame, I took to begging for food or coin on the streets. Then to my eternal joy, I was found by Alice Wooler, she and her good husband Jack ran The Leg of Mutton tavern. They both were kind and Christian souls and took me in. I told them of my little skill in the kitchen and so they put me to work for them in return for bed, board and the occasional penny. Being without childer, I became as a daughter to them and would have been content to remain so if it had it not been for Will
I had worked for Alice and Jack for a good few years, when Will perchanced to visit the Leg of Mutton on his way to market to sell his flour. As soon as I saw him, the breath did catch in my throat, He was tall with fair hair and well muscled with clear blue eyes and a most handsome face. As I served him ale, bread and pottage (for now I was trusted to serve customers) the very nearness to him brought colour to cheeks. He smiled at me and I felt an unfamiliar glow. He obviously felt something too as ‘ere long he was visiting the tavern two or three times a week and we began courting.
After a year we were hand-fasted and I went to live with him in the mill. Oh what joy. I prayed that we would live together forever, but sadly it was not to be. One winter-time he took our old sow to market and got a fine price for her. This was his undoing, as he spent some of the money on more strong winter ale than he was accustomed to, in the very tavern where we had met. Sadly on his way home he was mown down by a badly driven cart, though in truth I would have thrown him in the river if I had seen him so much in his cups.
Friends, you can imagine my despair. I had to leave the mill and find work where best I could. I would not return to the Leg of Mutton as Alice and Jack had been kind enough to me already, and besides, it held too many memories of my beloved Will.
The Tale of Matthew
I Matthew Daws have been asked to set down the story of my life, but not having my letters I entrust my words to Margery the scrivener and pray she sets them down aright, but why any would want to read of my story is a great puzzlement to me.
I was born around St Crispins Daie (as far as I know), but the exact daie and date I know not, to my father James (carpenter) and mother Mary (dairymaid) in the village of Ingatestone in Essex.
When I was old enough, I helped my good father with his work repairing carts, making crude furniture, and the many other diverse duties requiring his skill.
My good mother died of the sweating sickness when I had but seven summers and my father did quickly follow her. Some say he died of a broken heart. I was sent to live with my fathers brother John in his cott two miles outside the village, and I came to hate him right well. He was a tall stocky fellow and a tanner by trade and was overly fond of the drink, so always stank of ale and stale piss. He had no love for me and did sore abuse me. From the time I went to live with him, he treated me like a slave, keeping me short of food and working me right hard. Oft times I would cry myself to sleep as a child, curled up on his dirt floor my hands bleeding from scraping the fat from animal skins, stinking like my Uncle with my empty belly growling and my body aching from lifting raw sheep and cow skins.
Whilst my Uncle was a cruel and lazy man, his wife my Aunt Meg, was a gentle, kindly soul, oft times telling me of the various herbs and charms she peddled from their cott and which earned her the reputation of being a wise woman. Many times she had healed my hands with various salves, balms and simples and eased the stinging welts on my back I had received from my Uncles regular whippings. It was only because of her kind intercession, that my Uncle finally realised he would not get much work from me unless I was better fed, and so my situation improved a little.
The years passed slowly and my punishing work gradually built my muscles and strength until, by the time I had eighteen Summers I was able to best most of the fellows in the village when we met on our rare spare time to take part in wrestling on the village green. It was then I decided that my Uncle had beaten me for the last time. The next time he came at me with a hazel switch in his hand, I not only took it off him, but I gave him the hiding of his life. It felt so good to vent all the anger and hurt he had inflicted on me over the years, though I did feel sorry for my Aunt, as I felt he would turn on her once I was no longer under his roof.
I left my Uncles that very day, and struck out on my own, peddling the small carpentry skills I had from cott to cott and village to village, increasingly ministering to the sick and needy using the knowledge I had gleaned from dear Aunt Meg.
Over the years I added to that knowledge and so today I am known as a Cunning Man and whilst I do not have much coin, I can always find a bed and food in exchange for my ministrations. I pray dear reader that thou keep thyself well, but if illness or bad fortune beset you round, come seek me out and I will do my best to assist thee.
God Be with thee
The Tale of Nick
Good day to thee, one and all,
It was asked of me some weeks past, to set my life story down in letters. It has taken I this long to find a man of letters who I am willing to trust to set down my words faithfully as I would speak them, though why any folk would wish to know of me is beyond my understanding.
I was born in early summer around the year 1520, I know not the exact month, day or year.
Ramsgate was the place where I first drew breath. It is in the County of Kent by the coast and has a good harbour.
My father worked on the fishing fleet at the harbour, attending to the rigging of the ships. Mother gutted cleaned and sorted fish for shops and markets, sometimes she did smoke the fish also.
All I remember from my early days is the smell of fish and sea air. My father named me in hys stead as he was Nick also. I had two beloved sisters, Dawn and Rose.
When I had about five summers there was a great to-do one day at the docks. A great three-master called The Good Ship Jesus had tied up alongside the harbour wall. All were rushing about as the ship was being supplied with food, water, cordage, and the like.
Now my father’s brother Bill, who he had not met for many a year and in truth, I had never afore seen, was a crew member of the Port watch on The Jesus, and he was granted shore leave whilst the ship was in Dock. He came to our home with a couple of bottles of rum. He was right full of stories of the sea and places he had been and said, if my good father agreed, I could go with him as they were right short of a powder monkey or two, as the ones they had were now too old and were to be set to work the big guns. So it was set that I would go with Bill two days later on the Jesus and he would look after me as best he could. I was seasick to start with but soon got over that but sleeping in a hammock and sharing it with others took some getting used to.
The Captain of The Good Ship Jesus (we all called her, The Jesus ), was Sir John Hawkyns a right pious and religious man who read to the crew from his bible twice each and every daie, come hell or high water and an extra reading before every battle. He was a fine sailor and a fair captain as the cat o’ nine tails was rarely given to it’s use. We were a happy crew that worked well together, Bill made sure that I kept out of trouble and as I grew in years, I worked my way up to the gun deck as part of the gun crew on number one gun, “Old Nick”, on the Port side with Uncle Bill as gun captain.
Whilst aboard The Jesus, the French tried to sail into the Isle of Whyte and take her from us. The Jesus was to stop them. During the battle, Bill was killed outright by a ball entering our gun deck and I was left sore wounded, with a wooden splinter the size of carving knife stuck in my leg. Once the surgeon had attended me and I had healed, the bosun, who had been good friends with Bill, gave me Bill’s chest, with all his stuff within and his job also as gun captain. That same year the French came again to us this time in the Solant close by Portsmouth. The Jesus was already at sea awaiting the French to move (as they had the benefyt of wind), when an almighty cheer was heard around the fleet. We were told that the Mary Rose was out, sailing to be with us, King Henry VIII’s best ship of the line and the King Hymself was at Portsmouth watching the confrontation. I know not what went wrong as I had limited vision from the gun deck, but the orders were to withdraw from the line and stow all guns fast then go up on deck. On reaching the deck, to our horror we could see the Mary Rose listing hard on her port side slowly sinking, Men were trying to lower boats. We came about, but by the time we reached her it was too late. We tried with another ship to keep her afloat but she was too heavy for us and was lost to the deep. The rest of the day was spent looking for survivors. This was the turning point for me and the sea, having seen so many fellow sailors killed or just floating around and me still not able to swim. I turned my face and my ambitions towards the land.
After gathering all my kit and with the Captain’s blessing and all my back pay in my pocket, I headed off to find a new life on land. With coin about me, at first, I took to wandering our great land until one day in a tavern in the village of Ingatestone I found myself talking to a cunning man. I did wonder if he had a cure for the dullness in my ears, as after so long on the gun decks, I found it hard to hear what was being said. Rightly telling me there be no cure he offered me a rabbit’s ear on a cord to be worn around the neck, which would, he said, at least help in some manner.
And in truth it works right well as people talk louder when they see the ear. Having quaffed a few more ales I thought it aright, that I could use my coin to buy some armour, join The Companye of Merrie Folke, that I may sell armour if need be, or become a man at arms for the gentry on a daily basis when required. In this manner I could make my way in the world until The Lord calls me to my reward.
I also met my own good lady Bess, who be a dairymaid and doth accompany me in my travels to events. Do, I pray thee, come and speak to us if you have a mind. I hope all that is written is as true as my word.
May the Good Lord bless thee and look over thee. Amen.
The Tale of Ned
I go by the name Ned Punge and I am an archer in service to Sir Henry Parker, 10th Baron Morley as part of hys retinue these few summers past. I am learned of my letters, and have even some knowledge of my numbers. Thys is part of my story up to thys tyme.
My first bowe was fashioned for me by my Father, when I reached my first seven summers, as the Law decrees. Two arrows also were mine, though she that bore me insisted they had blunt piles. After Church each Holy Daie all the men would shoote at the butts, me along too wyth all those of low age. We childer would pretend to sharpen our points on the Church walling as the elders did, though blunts were all we had. The men shotte to much over 220 paces but we childer shotte as we could, mayhap 40 or 50 paces was our mark.
My beloved Father was a goode archer as was hys Father before hym, who indeed endeth hys days in the rank of Centenar (Captaine of 100 men). Both had fought with our Kings, one in France wyth King Henry V and one in England with the Yorkist Kings Edward IV and Richard III. Both had lived with many a lively and ribald tale to tell. I was showne well by my Father and prospered in my skill. I would practise betwixt tymes by shooting blunts at the massed armies of hens that charged round the cotts garden, perchance in the hope my kin would let me join the hunt. Thys practise led me to trouble upon the eventual murder of the best layer in the village – Nellie, my skill having prospered much. My excuse of it being an unlucky accident was laid bare when a second murder happened upon another fyne bird shortly thereafter. My dam, being most vexed, broke my bowe for the salvation of her hens but grandfather made another. A goode ell and a half (68”) in length, more fyne and of greater draw, for in truth he had much wit as a bowyer. He made me swear a feilty to hym and make promyse not to shoote any more hens.
In tyme I was allowed on the hunt but still had only blunt piles. In plain truth all on the hunt had only blunts, for to be caught abroad in the woods with sharp piles such as broadheads was a crime under the law, the Reeve would be told and the bailiff close behind. All we poor folke could take for the pot were birds of the air, squirrel, hare and the like. Blunts have many goode qualities, they do not dig themselves below the turf, nor bury themselves high in trees but fall plain to the ground. They overcome small game well by knocking the wits or breath from them or by the breaking of bone.
Another ten summers passed, and as I grew, my bowe had grown with me (now an ell and threequarters 78”) as grandfather had made my and hys last before he passed on of the sweats. The bowe had such strength and draw that I could dangle my young brother from the string whilst I had lift of the stave, much as in the shape of a crossbow but with the string down most, the full draw still not reached. My brother had ten summers and a goodly weight upon hym. At the butts the distance of 220 paces demanded of those over 18 summers was easy and I could share the best of the marks with the elders.
It was not long thereafter that mine own good Father went to hys reward, and I was left to govern the household as best I could. Not gyven much to farming but much gyven to the bowe I set to the earning of coin. A good archer could mayhap earn 3d a day, if mounted perchance 5d or 6d. My grandfather had been a Centenar so why not I a Ventenar (Captain of 20 men) or somesuch.
Of late, my Lord hath tasked me to go about the village fayres and other divers gatherings, as before, with The Companye of Merrie Folke and bring to those who have lapsed in their archery some learning of it. The Kynge is in grievous poor humour and hath become much vexed by the decay of archery among the people of Hys realm, though it is the Law for all men twixt seven and sixty to shoote in the bow of a Holy Daie. Mayhap we will meet one day and I will put thee to the test.
God Save thee and may God Save the Kynge
The Tale of Thomas
In light of recent events I feel that as your Master, I should advise caution in the matter of our faith, for there was never anything under Heaven, so well devised, or so sure established, which in the fullness of time has not been corrupted by the wit of sinful man. And so it is with good men upon the working of The Word of Our Lord which I support and beseech all good folk to pay heed this day, and not be swayed by the corruptors of our religion…
I am Thomas. Some men have given word of me as a God-fearing merchant, while others make note of my relations, who would make such claim upon the royal line, as to be near treasonous, was it not found to be true.
Others would find in me a conscientious son of the church who would discharge his duties in the affairs of business in an upright and honest manner. Thus it is my God-given role to support my local community, providing much needed labour, succour and wealth, to the local neighbourhood, whilst strengthening our faith in Our Lord and our King.
God has favoured me with the strength to create such a wool business as to support some 40 souls in this parish, and has blessed me with a fine wife and two healthy daughters, along with their brother with whom to pass on the line. They find themselves learning their path in life, with such courtly skills as befits those who may, upon a future date, find themselves in such company that would require these skills and graces.
In my day-to-day travels I can be found oft times upon the road to London from our manors in Essex and Suffolk, as I do have occasion to visit and conduct such business as needed. Take heed of the vipers nest of commerce. As Our Lord did say, “He that entreth, not by the door of the sheep-fold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber. But he that entreth in by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the porter opens and the sheep hear his voice: and he calleth his own sheep by name and he leadeth them out”. I would fain have my people to gain a more abundant and God-fearing life if that be Gods’ will, while guarding them from the vagabonds and thieves of this world.
We are blessed within our community of such fellows as would assist with common ailments, the barber surgeon and herbalist who hath many a device and posset to assist those who fall ill. I give thanks also for such fellows who give training to assist and support our archery practice upon the Sunday after church.
Of myself, I fear I do not suffer steadfast fools, our family having supported the house of York and our King at Bosworth and again at Stoke Field in years past, and I in turn, would have supported him also at Flodden, had the call reached our community. Hereunto I would not have you waste time upon the manor if you have no business being here other than to support our good community. That said, good reader, mayhap, if thou would’st choose to visit and bring Gods Grace with thee, thou would’st find me a gracious host, and I would fain hear of thy tales and deeds that bring us together.
God Give thee good day!
Thomas, Master of the Parish
The Companye of Merrie Folke 