As you know from previous blogs, I am a member of a medieval living history organization, the Society for Creative Anachronism.
We frequently have events and gatherings to teach and learn and share our knowledge. One such event is happening this week, Gulf Wars.
I frequently write letters about my experiences at events from my persona's point of view. It is a type of creativity I much enjoy. This year, I am not able to attend... yet still wanted to write...
Image from Huntington Library Ms HM 60, f°7, 15th C.
Letter from Home
Written this 12th day of March
Anno Societatus LVII
Being 2023 of the Common Era
Good tidings unto my dear friend Sibilla, from your good friend Nesscia.
I received your most welcome missive on the eve of war.
Our King has called for the Army and the good citizens of Calontir to travel to the Southern reaches of Gleann Abhann on campaign to the Great Gulf War. Troubles there seem to ebb and flow like an expansive tide, ever reoccurring.
I have oft journeyed south to give ease and aid to our kinsfolk in their mighty efforts. My heart fair sings, in the midst of the misery of battles, to encounter others I thought long gone. In days past you and I have bent the elbow together and shared much laughter when answering the King's Call.
It is loathesome to me to disregard our Monarch's Summons. Even so, I must needs visit my daughter to the west of the war. My wagon was fairly packed in plan to travel with kith and kin to the conflict when I received word from my daughter in Ansteorra. She also had need of aid at her estate. Oh! to be torn between loyalties! Duty to King and kinsfolk or faithfulness to blood of my blood.
In truth, I knew my answer before I spoke it. Choices are few in response to needs of teaghlach or clan or tribe. Yet, my heart ached for commitments uttered then broken. As a consequence, I trekked still to the south, though not toward the great war.
The journey was both tiresome and full of wonders. As I turned my wagon off the land I call home, the geese were flying on high for their annual migration to the far northern reaches. I could hear their wild calls to one another through the billowing clouds. The land lay around me brown and barren, and I wore my plaid woolen coat as I drove.
The road itself was well maintained and rode easily, so my time in the driver's seat was no great burden, though uneventful. Watching the tree leaves issue forth and the multitude of varigated flowers push up from the earth as I set aside my woolen coat was the best part of the southward journey.
Here spring is but a month earlier, yet I do enjoy these extra weeks of warmer weather. While my daughter travels abroad, I tend to her gardens and oversee the care of the beasts on her estate. My tasks remain simple, though necessary, and I brought with me mine own fabrics and fibers with which to sew and embroider and weave.
A courier brought me word this very morning from my good husband. He eagerly awaits warmer days. With the ground beginning its thaw, mud and debris daily encrust his boots. He has a weary task indeed to slog through the yards to care for the livestock.
Yet springtide mocks him there. One day fair and sunny the next day windy and snow covered. Green things peek above ground, tempting him with thoughts of summer to come. Our lands are rich and the gravid kine waddle in expectancy, our small lot should bring another 15 calves to the fold.
Ever does his mind turn to the task of planting and harvest. Though many moons hence, he has already bartered with a countryman to lend hand with the reaping come the fall.
Enough of my prattle, how fare you and yours? Do the farm fowl grow? How goes the weary task of fencing, in preparation for the piggen? How many sow do you expect? Does your own needlecraft bring comfort when the sun travels beyond the horizon?
Oh, my friend, this missive grows over long, and I must needs tend to my morning duties.
I pray this letter finds you and your loved ones with good humours. I look forward to when next we meet and I much desire that is not too distant a time. As I send this with a rider, he carries with it also, much love.
~N
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