February 1347

Dunwich, Suffolk

 

Petra smiled to herself before she even opened her eyes to the new day. She felt wickedly decadent for staying abed for an extra hour, but it was Candlemas, and her employer had given her the day off. Petra hadn’t had a full day off since she started working for Lady Blythe, and she relished the prospect of spending it with her family. Candlemas had always been her favorite feast day, not only for religious reasons, but because it came at a time of year that was dark, cold, and barren. Candlemas, or the Purification of the Virgin, was a time of rebirth, a turning point between the waning of winter and the approach of spring and the start of the new planting. Petra didn’t give much thought to planting, but she did associate Candlemas with the coming of spring. Ever since she was a little girl, her mother always said,

If Candlemas be fair and bright,

Winter has another flight,

If Candlemas brings clouds and rain,

Winter will not come again.

 

Petra couldn’t see what type of day dawned for Candlemas, since there was no window in her loft, but she hoped it was a cloudy one. She would gladly sacrifice this feast day to rain if spring made an early appearance this year. The children would be bitterly disappointed though. They had been looking forward to this day since their bleak Christmas celebration and hoped to enjoy all that Candlemas had to offer. They’d been chattering and making plans for the past week, and Petra encouraged them in their planning, glad to see them happy and animated after several months of subdued acceptance.

Even Cyril had enjoyed Candlemas when he was alive. He didn’t much care about the candle-blessing at the church or the procession afterwards, but he did enjoy the games on the green and the performances by the mummers and minstrels. Cyril was a powerful man, and always eagerly participated in hammer-throwing contests and wrestling, proud to show off his brute strength. For the past two years, he’d even felt benevolent enough on Candlemas to allow Edwin to try his hand at throwing the hammer, despite the fact that Edwin was still too young to officially enter the contest. The hammer didn’t fly far, but Cyril was so pleased with his own results that he almost praised Edwin for his efforts and promised that he’d help him practice so that he could enter the competition once he was of age. Edwin had been desperate to win Cyril’s approval, and Petra was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t mention the competition at all this time, no longer worried about making Cyril proud.

Petra slid out of bed with a sigh of resignation, dressed hastily, and made her way downstairs. Maude already had the fire going, and it was pleasantly warm and snug. Fragrant broth bubbled over the open flame, and yesterday’s pot of porridge stood off to the side, the pot heating without the contents burning or overcooking. Maude poured Petra a cup of broth and busied herself with setting out the bowls and spoons on the table in preparation for breakfast.

“Get the children up,” Maude said as she hefted the pot of porridge out of the hearth and set it on the table. “We have much to do this day.”

Petra didn’t argue. Her mother had her own set routine for most feast days, and Petra allowed her to take the lead. Maude had so few things she enjoyed and looked forward to. Petra knew exactly why Maude was in a rush for the children to rise. She already had the cooking stone warming by the hearth and would begin to mix the batter for the pancakes as soon as they’d eaten, eager to have them finished before they left for Mass. Using flour for Candlemas pancakes was an extravagance this year, but Petra didn’t object. The flat, round pancakes represented the sun because of their shape and golden color, and she couldn’t bear to deny the children this special treat. Perhaps they wouldn’t make as many this year, just enough to mark the occasion. They’d eat a pancake each as they came off the stone, still hot and fresh, and then have one more after they came back in the evening, having spent the day outdoors enjoying all the entertainment that Dunwich had to offer.

When the children were small, they all went to the green together, but now that the children were older, they’d been hatching their own plans, so Petra and Maude would most likely be on their own, at least until supper. Petra gulped down the last of her broth and went to wake the children.

Ora jumped straight out of bed, eager for the day to begin, and hopped from foot to foot on the cold floor as she pulled on her hose and stuck her feet into her shoes before stepping into her skirt and lacing her bodice. Elia, always the last to wake up, pulled the blanket over her head, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep. Edwin rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair as he sat up in bed, his eyes going straight to his grandmother as he reached beneath his pillow.

“Don’t even think of putting that on,” Maude growled at Edwin, who was studying a bear mask with ill-hidden glee. “Tis a Pagan rite, and you won’t be participating in it. Not now, not ever.”

“Oh, come now, Grandmother. Tis nothing Pagan about it,” Edwin protested as he set aside the mask. “All the lads have one. And it’s just to mark the awakening of the bears, nothing more. Alfric made this for me. Just look how lifelike it is.” Edwin held up the mask, showing off to all proudly.

Maude frowned and was about to say something when Petra cut in. “There’s no harm in it, Mother. What’s Pagan about bears leaving their dens? Let the lads have their fun this day. They’ve earned it.”

Maude clearly didn’t agree, but said no more about it. There were those who lit bonfires and prayed to the goddess Brigid to purify and bless the land before planting in celebration of Imbolc, but wearing a bear mask was hardly the same thing. Petra knew that what her mother was really worried about was Edwin drawing attention to himself in any way. She feared for him, and wished to keep him by her side where she could look after him.

“Let him go,” Petra insisted, earning a look of gratitude from Edwin.

“I’ll stay out of harm’s way, Grandmother,” Edwin promised as he set aside the mask. “We’ll only wear the masks for a short time anyway. Alfric and I wish to see the contests and watch the mummers. I hope they have the same mummers as last year,” Edwin said as she pulled on his breeches. “I nearly split my sides laughing.”

“Me too,” Elia put in as she finally consented to rise. “And there was that old man with the dog who did tricks. Remember?”

“The dog danced while he played his lute,” Ora chimed in. “I felt sorry for it.”

“Why, you silly goose? The dog got his reward in the end,” Elia said, always eager to annoy her sister.

“Yes, I suppose he did, but it looked so skinny and sad,” Ora replied.

“Much like its master,” Edwin said. “It can’t be an easy life, always traveling from place to place and living off people’s charity. Imagine never having a place to lay your head or anyone waiting for you at the end of the day.”

Petra smiled at Edwin as she spooned porridge into the bowls. Of the three children, he was the most sensitive to people’s suffering, and felt a kinship with anyone who was different. Neither Ora nor Elia would give much thought to the old man who’d likely been on the road for years, depending on his aging dog for his bread.

“Come have your breakfast, then see to your chores. Ora, collect the candles to take to church for the blessing. And Elia, help your grandmother mix the batter for the pancakes once you’re finished. Edwin, bring more wood for the fire and fetch some water.”

“Yes, Mother,” the children answered in unison.

Petra climbed back up to the loft and applied herself to braiding her hair and pinning it up beneath her headpiece. She had two spare veils which she would lend to the girls for the day since it was customary to wear white on Candlemas. They didn’t have white gowns, but white linen veils would do. They could wear them for the procession.

Petra sat down on the bed and folded her hands in her lap. The friars usually joined the townspeople for the celebration after conducting their own Mass at the priory. Petra couldn’t help wondering if she would see Avery this day. He used to love feast days when he was a boy, always opting for the mummers and minstrels instead of contests of strength. He loved the music and plays, especially if they were bawdy in nature. Would he be there today to enjoy the performances or would he avoid the revelry as most of the friars did since it was unseemly for a priest to indulge in such entertainments?

Petra sprang to her feet when she heard church bells. It was almost time to go. Mass would begin shortly. She grabbed the veils for the girls and climbed down, her mouth-watering as the aroma of sizzling dough enveloped her. Petra accepted a warm, golden pancake from Elia and inhaled the heavenly smell. The pancake was lightly spread with butter, and it melted on the tongue as Petra took her first bite. The children had already had theirs and were looking at her with envy, but the pancake wasn’t enough to share four ways, so they would just have to wait to have the rest later.

Maude had removed the shutters, and Petra gazed at the brilliant blue square of sky visible through the unglazed window. Winter wasn’t ready to release its grasp on this part of the world, but this didn’t upset Petra. She had a whole day to enjoy herself, her family was thriving, and the sun shone brightly, lifting her spirits. She would put both Avery and Lord Thomas from her thoughts and make the most of this gift. Tomorrow and its worries would come soon enough.