Page 46 of The Forgotten
Even Alfric was already preparing for the future. His mother had arranged for an apprenticeship with Master Carney. Alfric was young, but he was big and strong, and the blacksmith, being short of help, was willing to take him on a year earlier. Alfric would serve eight years, instead of the usual seven, working long hours and earning nothing, but at the end of his term, he would become a journeyman and a member of the Guild. He would be a man in every sense of the word and earn an honest wage, one that would support him and his future family.
“Edwin, Father Avery is a good man and has a mind to help us. Please, don’t throw this chance away.”
“I will NOT become a friar. You hear me? I’d rather die,” Edwin shouted and bolted toward the ladder, leaving his mother staring at him, white-faced and frightened. He yanked off his boots and threw himself face down on the bed, tears soaking the pillow as he gave in to despair. He hadn’t allowed himself to consider what would happen to him, but he could no longer deny the truth.
He’d prayed and prayed, begging the good Lord to cure him and make the affliction go away, but the fit at the fair had been a bad one and, according to his mother, lasted longer than the ones in the past. The rush of fear as he faced his opponent and the burst of aggression he experienced during the fight brought on an attack, and he’d collapsed to the ground, drooling and convulsing for all to see. Edwin thought the Lord had forsaken him, but perhaps he was offering him a way out by bringing him into the fold. Or was he? In either case, the time to decide had come. He’d be twelve come April.
Edwin sat up and angrily wiped his tears. His head throbbed, and his stomach hurt something bad. He needed to go to the privy. Edwin pulled on his shoes and stepped outside. His breath made white puffs in the air as he hurried toward the privy, which was dark and smelly enough to make his eyes water. Edwin felt marginally better after emptying his bowels. The cramps had subsided, and his head cleared somewhat once he was out in the fresh air, looking up at the starry heavens. A three-quarter moon rode high in the sky, its glow bathing the town in a silvery light. There was no one about, but the silence and the sound of the sea in the distance were strangely comforting. Edwin leaned against the wall of the house and gazed at the vast glittering darkness stretching above him. He was cold but not quite ready to go inside. He knew he wouldn’t sleep.
He wasn’t angry with his mother, only with the situation. She was doing her best, and he loved her for it. He would tell her in the morning that he would accompany Father Avery to the priory when the time came and thank him kindly. Perhaps accepting your circumstances was part of becoming a man.
Edwin mumbled a greeting to the friars and smiled uncertainly as he followed Friar William into the room. This was what he’d really come to see, and now that he was here, his heart gave a leap of apprehension. This could be his life. Forever. But, in truth, it wasn’t as awful as he’d expected. His mother was right. A scribe was respected and valued, not to mention comfortable. The scribes were warm and dry, got three meals a day, and each had a cell to call his own. If Edwin became a pack-whacker for Lord Devon, as his grandmother thought he should, he’d spend most of his days out in the open, eating whatever he could get and sleeping rough until he returned home. Also, the wages would be minimal,since any idiot could do the job. Edwin mentally thanked his mother for making him promise that he keep an open mind.
“This is where the manuscripts are copied,” Friar William explained, lowering his voice so as not to disturb the friars. “It’s delicate, painstaking work that requires great concentration, so the friars work only in the morning, when the light is strongest and they are well rested. They then go on to midday prayer and to dinner at the refectory, after which they proceed to their other, more physical chores.”
Friar William motioned for Edwin to follow him toward the back of the room where a long, wooden table occupied most of the wall. “This will be your work area for the time being. You will assist the scribes in whatever they need. Namely, you will make ink and mix paints, replenish the inkwells, sharpen quills, and prepare the gold leaf. You will also measure and cut the vellum to the specifications the scribes give you.”
Edwin reached out and carefully touched some of the earthenware jars and glass vials lined up toward the back of the table by the wall. “What are all these?” he asked.
“Those are the various pigments used for mixing the paints. The scribes use many colors, ranging from vermillion to ochre, to woad, and to verdigris. There’s also silver and gold, which needs to be hammered into very thin sheets or ground into powder and mixed with egg to produce shell gold.”
“What is it used for?” Edwin asked, fascinated.
“The paints are used for the images and the gold and silver for providing an illuminated background. The end result is quite beautiful. Here, let me show you. Come.”
Friar William walked toward a row of shelves and lifted a heavy, leather-bound volume, which he carried to an empty desk. He opened it reverently and motioned for Edwin to come closer. Edwin gasped in wonder. The text was written in beautiful, even lines, but the design that bordered the page and the inset image of a saint were like nothing he’d ever seen in his life. The brilliant colors and gold background made the miniature practically leap off the page. Once Edwin looked closer, he saw that it wasn’t only the bright colors that made the image so extraordinary; it was the exquisite detail and flawless execution. It was perfect.
“How do they manage it?” Edwin asked, unable to find the proper words to phrase his question.
“It’s a long process, my boy, and takes a great deal of precision. You will learn everything in due course, but for now, you will start with the basics. Come, let’s not disturb the scribes any longer than necessary.”
They came back out into the cloister and then crossed the courtyard toward the massive arch in the stone wall through which he’d come earlier with Father Avery. Edwin hadn’t seen the priest since Father Avery introduced him to Friar William and rushed off, but Edwin was sure that they’d meet again soon. Father Avery seemed to have a keen interest in his future, which was odd but also comforting. God knows, his own father never did. Edwin felt as if a heavy load had been lifted off his shoulders since his father died. It was a disloyal thought, especially in this holy place, but it was the truth. No one ever spoke of it, but Edwin was sure that they all felt the same, except Elia, who’d been closer to their father than anyone else in the family. Edwin glanced up when he realized that Friar William was speaking to him.
“Edwin, since you are not a member of the order, you will continue to live at home. You will arrive in the morning and leaveafter the midday meal, which is included as part of your apprenticeship. You are, of course, welcome to join us in prayer, and should you decide to join the order, Prior Jacob will be most happy to speak with you. Father Avery has indicated that you are considering dedicating your life to God. No one here will pressure you into making a decision, but we will all tell you, as one, that there’s no greater glory than devoting yourself to the Lord and spending one’s life in his service. I will see you tomorrow. God be with you,” Friar William said as he placed his hand on Edwin’s shoulder in a gesture of benediction.
“Tomorrow then,” Edwin replied, raising a hand in farewell.
He passed beneath the arch and started back toward town. This part of the road was deserted, since few people came out to Greyfriars Priory on days when the brothers weren’t giving out alms. Edwin enjoyed his solitary walk, using the time to mull over what he’d learned. Edwin had envisioned the work of a scribe as tedious and mind-numbing, which it probably was, but seeing that beautiful text made him see their labors in a whole new light. To create something so splendid had to be very gratifying, perhaps even divine. It was certainly more rewarding than sweating in a forge or cutting one’s hands to shreds as a carpenter’s apprentice. Those beautiful books would remain behind long after the scribes were gone, their legacy to the world surviving for years, maybe even centuries.
Had Edwin been offered this apprenticeship outright, he’d have no reservations, but there was a condition attached to Edwin’s tutelage. He had to consider joining the Franciscan order by the time he turned thirteen. The prospect of becoming a friar was enough to make Edwin want to walk into the sea, but seeing the splendor in which the monks lived and worked and experiencing the serene atmosphere of the monastery had been a revelation.Edwin liked solitude. He wasn’t someone who had many friends or longed to spend an evening drinking in a tavern. And now that Alfric was starting his apprenticeship with the blacksmith, he wouldn’t have time for Edwin anymore. He’d make friends with the other apprentices, and his life would revolve around the forge, now and forever. Edwin would be left alone, but although he’d miss Alfric, he didn’t really mind. Perhaps it was his affliction that set him apart, but he enjoyed his own company. Dwelling and working in a place that encouraged that, but still provided a comfortable living and companionship didn’t seem so dire now. Perhaps becoming a friar wasn’t as far-fetched of an idea as it had been only that morning.
Edwin stopped and sat down on a fallen log, looking out over the cliff toward the placid sea. It was as still as glass today, the water sparkling in the winter sunshine and stretching as far as the eye could see. It was cold sitting there on the log, but Edwin hardly noticed. He was used to being cold. He closed his eyes and inhaled the brine-scented air, filling his lungs to capacity. He hadn’t felt so peaceful in weeks, and it was all thanks to Father Avery. Edwin had no idea why the priest took such an interest in them these days, but whatever motivated him to want to help was much appreciated. A few tasty tidbits appeared on the table on the days when his mother was at home, and there was plenty of firewood to keep them warm.
Grandmother Maude didn’t seem pleased by Father Avery’s visits, throwing him stealthy looks as he tried to engage Edwin in conversation and teased the girls. Edwin couldn’t understand his grandmother’s displeasure. Father Avery was a man of God, a priest of the Church. What harm could his presence do? Edwin looked to his mother, who seemed lighter somehow. She even looked younger these days, the groove between her eyebrows gone, and the dead look in her eyes replaced by one of hope andhumor. His mother could use a friend, and after today’s tour of the priory, it was clear that so could Edwin. He’d refused to come to the priory for nearly two weeks, but his objections had been for nothing.
Edwin got to his feet and began to walk quickly to ward off the chill. He looked forward to returning to the priory tomorrow to begin his training. Sure, he’d be making ink and sharpening quills, but he’d also learn about mixing paints and grinding gold. It was the first step to creating something wonderful, and the prospect made him smile.
FORTY-TWO
“Mistress Ordell, won’t you join us?” Thomas asked as Petra set down a platter of honey-roasted pork on the table. He gave her an expectant look, willing her to agree.
“I have much to do, my lord,” Petra replied as she caught a look of disapproval from Lady Blythe.
“Surely it can wait, and you must eat. Come now,” he said, patting the chair next to him in invitation. “Nan, set another place,” Thomas called out to Nan who’d gone back to the kitchen to get a flagon of wine.
Petra obediently sat down and accepted a slice of pork accompanied by stewed apples. She took a small bite of pork, uncomfortable under Lady Blythe’s unwavering gaze. She could almost hear what the old woman was thinking.You are beneath my son, and there’s no place for you in this family. Do the right thing and reject his proposal, or I will make your life a living Hell.
Petra averted her eyes and stared into her plate, wishing that she’d declined his invitation to dine. Thomas finished his wine and refilled his cup. He had a hearty appetite and ate with relish, oblivious to the undercurrents passing between the two women.
