And so we continue with the flashbacks, following the life of Betelgeuse back in ye olden times. After all, we have a few more important events to cover. Such as the plague that swept across Europe and wiped out a good chunk of the population. And other moments of his life span. But we haven't reached that point in proceedings. We have to cover what leads up to the plague, demonstrating the formative years that help mold Betelgeuse into his present state.
Remember, any and all opinions that the characters might express do not necessarily reflect those of the author. I probably should have mentioned that sort of thing at the beginning of the story when I claimed not to own a bunch of the characters, but I forgot to say it.
The peasants and working classes tended to marry into their own age and status demographic, preferring to choose healthy women who would bear children well and be fit enough to work alongside him if needed, as well as manage the domestic household. The Lord's permission needed to be sought before a marriage could take place and if marrying outside of his holdings, a fine or merchet may be exacted. Meaning that she had to be bought from the other lord of the manor, the money making up for the fact she was moving to another fief to live with her new husband.
The bride's family was responsible for the dowry which, in the case of the wealthy, was usually money and land holdings. Commoner's dowry would most likely include household utensils, tools, furniture, clothing, and livestock. The marriage contract entailed issues of the dowry paid by the bride as she enters the union, and the bride-price contribution made by groom as he takes away the bride. Proving once again that, in this time period, women were essentially traded for cash.
Wedding rings have been worn for hundreds of years, and the medieval period was no different. The plain wedding band can be traced back to the 11th century where it was worn on the third finger of the right hand. Only in the 16th century was the ring changed to the left. Rings were exchanged amongst the wealthy just like rings are exchanged in weddings today. Among peasants, who couldn't afford them, often the groom would instead break a coin in half keeping one side for himself and giving the other to his bride.
Excerpt from the 9th Grade History Assignment "Life for Women in the Middle Ages: Why We Should Be Grateful To Not Live Back Then" by Sam Manson
Winter was never a pleasant time of year. It was a cold, wet, and miserable time when they were stuck close to the house. They were left with only the food stored from the harvest, unable to catch fish in the streams, the occasional squirrel, or even the crawling beetles. If they weren't careful about rationing their stores, if the winter lasted longer than expected, or wolves managed to snag one of their valuable pigs or their goat, then things could get very difficult for them. The only time either of them left their house at all in the cold, bitter weather was to grab food for the animals. Or, in the case of Remfrey, rising early in the morning to make the long trek to the village to buy Cole's stronger beer.
"How much did you waste this time?" snapped Betelgeuse as the man finally stumbled through the door. "I hid most of our coins."
Remfrey's threadbare clothes couldn't be offering him much protection from the cold, snow coating his shoulders and the hat covering his head. The man shouldn't be traveling long distances, but he just couldn't resist his desire to get drunk. The weather and distance simply wasn't enough of a deterrent to keep him at home.
"Didn't need it. Traded some salt for it," the man mumbled before breaking into a coughing fit.
"Why would you even think that would be a good idea?" he asked sharply. "Salt is expensive and we need it. Unless you want what little meat we have to rot. Do you remember how hard it was to afford enough in the first place? It was a miracle I talked him into a deal."
"Didn't trade all o' it," Remfrey complained, slurring slightly. "Jus' some. We don't need all of it."
"Yes, we do. You can't keep doing this. From now on, if you even think of going near the village without me, I'll throw you out of this house and make you sleep in the hay shed."
"You can't speak to me like that. I'm your father. You will respect and obey me," he shouted before hacking and coughing.
Shoving the man closer to the fire and yanking his soaked hat off his shoulders, Betelgeuse said, "You might be my father, but I am finished obeying you. I obeyed you for fifteen years and that hasn't done us a lot of good. And I haven't respected you for a long time. Listening to the man in charge doesn't work when I apparently have more sense than him. Now we're going to try things my way."
Still coughing, he managed to give his son a stern look. Betelgeuse couldn't care less. He was tired of Father's drinking and gambling always making their lives harder than necessary. No matter what those from the church might say about obeying and honoring parents, it wasn't worth the effort.
Besides, there were more things to worry about at the moment. With Lord Gilbert's death and his son, Lord Bayard, taking control of the fief, they needed to be cautious until they knew more. They needed to keep an eye on the young man to see if he was incompetent or ill-tempered. A violent and foolish lord of the manor could cause a lot of problems for serfs and freemen alike. Thieves, bandits, and soldiers from other properties could destroy their livelihood if their lord of the manor couldn't take care of his property and people. And if it turned out to be the case for Lord Bayard, things could go very badly for them. Betelgeuse knew they wouldn't survive such a lord of the manor if Father kept squandering their resources. They barely managed with a competent and reasonable one.
"Ungrateful boy," muttered the man when the coughing slowed. "Elinor would be ashamed of such disrespect."
"I am quite sure Mother would be more ashamed of you if she could see you now," he said quietly, grabbing one of their woolen blankets and draping it across his father's shoulders. "Now, sit by the fire until you're dry. You're no good to anyone if you're drunk and shivering."
The man looked like he was about to say something else, but broke into another hacking fit. His son frowned slightly. By that point, Betelgeuse knew it wasn't merely the trip through the cold that was causing problems. It was clearly the start of sickness. That was always a risk in winter. And while it might pass, it could also grow serious enough to kill. Disease was deadly and dangerous.
Perhaps it would pass. Perhaps his father would recover without trouble. Perhaps it would turn out to be a passing ailment. There was at least a chance.
Morning came and Remfrey was no longer drunk. He was, however, worse than the night before. His hacking and coughing shook him, never pausing longer than a moment at a time to draw breath. Chills wracked his body as fever swallowed him up. Sickness truly held the man enthralled.
Betelgeuse tried to get him to drink something while debating what to do. He was frustrated with Father, but he wouldn't wish this on him. There were only a few options of what he could do for his stricken father.
He could seek out help from the village. Anyone from the church would claim that this disease was punishment for his sins and that begging forgiveness would be the solution, but they hadn't liked Remfrey or his son since the day the man drunkenly complained about the tithe and accused them of being useless to save anyone. Needless to say, there had been some avoidance involved since then from both parties. With that in mind, Betelgeuse thought it would better to seek out Sibylla and her children's council. The wisewoman, her son, and her daughter seemed more likely to have advice that would help. She knew herbs, astronomy, and might have a more proactive solution than prayer.
The problem with going to her for help, however, was that it was still a long walk to the village and back. The snow and wind, which were getting worse, would slow him down further. Betelgeuse knew that if he went to get help, he would be leaving his father alone for a long time and he wasn't in the best condition for that. His father needed someone to stay with him.
So the question was, did he run the risks of leaving his father alone in order to find someone to help him or did he stay to care for him and hope it would be enough for him to recover?
As more coughs racked the man's body, Betelgeuse pulled the blanket over him more firmly. He couldn't leave him alone. The fire would go out and the cold would set in. The sickness might kill him, but the cold along with the sickness certainly would. That meant he didn't really have a choice after all. He'd have to stay and watch over his father, hoping that it would pass.
"Father, don't you dare," he muttered. "I didn't go through all that mess of keeping us from starving for you to just give up."
Most of the spring planting was almost done, the pigs and the goat were getting rounder from eating the fresh growths, and he might even be able to afford a couple of sheep this year. There was even tentative talk among the people that this would turn out to be a bountiful harvest in the autumn. It was like the world was trying to make up for the harsh and unforgiving winter and all the suffering that came with it.
That didn't change the fact that Remfrey was now in the ground alongside his wife.
Betelgeuse tried to convince himself that it was for the best. Father was never the same since Mother passed, falling ever deeper into drink and gambling. He'd been handling almost all the required chores for years, so the young man knew he could deal with the property alone. And it might even be easier with only one mouth to feed and no one wasting money and such on the stronger brews of beer. He might not be forced to scrounge for bugs for food anymore, though he was admittedly growing fond of the taste. And no matter how much Father and the church may have hated each other, Betelgeuse made the trip through the cold to drag someone down to say words over his father's grave. Hopefully the drunken old man was with Mother now. Or in one of those heathen afterlives that involved a lot of drinking.
He tried to convince himself that it was for the best. And during the moments he was uncertain, Betelgeuse found ways to distract himself. And one of the distractions he was quickly learning to appreciate was ladies.
There were a reasonable number of women who lived in and around the village, especially if he was unconcerned about them being older than him or being married. They were pretty in a variety of enticing ways, with different features that combined in rather lovely ways. Light, dark, or reddish hair, skinny, short, curvy, tall, with or without freckles, or any eye color, he could appreciate how any of them looked. Even better was how they reacted when Betelgeuse tried to charm them. Some scoffed, some looked repulsed, some laughed, some looked shocked, some blushed, some tried to hide their pleasure while their fathers and brothers glared, and some looked intrigued. There was an entertaining variety to it. He could never predict how they would react.
All right, he could predict a little. Due to his and his father's reputations as the sneaky, tricky, young man who could talk his way into anything he wanted while making fools of those who bargained with him and as the hopeless, worthless, useless drunk who squandered everything he owned respectively, none of the ladies within the village were particularly interested. Those who came from farther away on market days were more likely to respond favorably to him than the locals. Some actually responded in a very friendly manner.
Of course, regardless of how nicely they might respond to his advances, there was a limit on how far it could go. Unless things changed drastically, there was no wife in his future. Even if by some miracle he ever saved up enough money for whatever the bride-price might be and the merchet since it would almost certainly be a woman from a different fief, he would also have to earn enough good will with the new lord of the manor. Lord Bayard would have to give permission and the man might decide to reject the requested marriage due to the reputation of Remfrey casting a shadow across his son from beyond the grave. The sins of the father continued to reflect on the son.
And Betelgeuse would have to also get the woman's father to give permission for such a marriage. Again, that would be difficult for anyone from the village since they knew both what he was like and what his father was like. And anyone from outside the village would quickly be informed by the local gossips, ruining any chance he might have of convincing them to let the wedding happen. It just wouldn't work. It would require more money than he would ever be able to afford and earning the good will of far too many people. It would be easier and far more believable for the young man to fly like a bird. So even if he should ever find a woman he wished to marry, it would never come to pass.
But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the wide and varied selection of women he could encounter in the area. Heading back with a batch of Maslin bread, dried beans added to the dough to add some substance until the first crops of rye and barley were ready, Betelgeuse used the opportunity to see which lovely ladies were moving around the village that day. He'd already flirted with those who were trying to bake their bread at the same time as him, though a couple had actually turned around and left at his arrival. The young man didn't allow it to discourage him at all and continued on his way.
His search for an entertaining and attractive young woman to approach was interrupted as he spotted a welcome face among the crowds. Out of all the people who saw him merely as a tricky and mildly manipulative son of the former local drunk, there was at least one who didn't see him as scum and who Betelgeuse actually liked. And he'd heard a recent rumor he wanted to confirm.
"Galeren," called Betelgeuse, shifting his grip on the basket of rough bread. "I heard some interesting news about you and Agnes. Old William gave you his blessing and Lord Bayard said it was all right. Is it true or have the old gossips been waggling their tongues for no reason?"
Smiling, he said, "Yes, we're getting married in a few weeks. They announced it at the church the other day."
"I'm sure no one was surprised to hear that. You've been in love with her for years. Though I'm certain that the other available ladies will be disappointed," said Betelgeuse. "I suppose I'll have to console them."
"You have been trying your luck with them quite often in the past year," Galeren said. "Though you've been particularly enthusiastic about it this spring." He hesitated a moment, giving the younger man a brief pitying look that Betelgeuse hated, but Galeren quickly replaced it with a more cheerful expression. "That one girl from the last market day seemed particularly happy with the attention you were giving her."
That made Betelgeuse smile in amusement. That particular girl, someone from another village who was traveling with her father and brothers to sell their lambs in the hopes of getting better prices somewhere with fewer flocks, was pretty. Blond hair tied with a blue ribbon and a coy smile on her face, she certainly knew how to attract attention. In a reversal of the usual situation, she pursued Betelgeuse the moment she saw him and did her best to keep his focus solely on her. Her behavior was certainly a fun change and he enjoyed himself initially. He'd appreciated the distraction from the events of winter.
But then it became even more entertaining and unusual. The girl, Ermyntrude, decided within in a day of meeting him that she was in love with him. She begged him to speak to her father, to request permission to marry her. She smiled brightly at him, shifting her dress so that the neckline appeared lower and whispering about what a lovely dowry she possessed. It was hilarious. Even if he could afford the bride-price and the merchet to marry someone outside the fief, Betelgeuse had no intention of marrying someone he'd just met. The girl just seemed so odd and overly obsessed with wedding the first available young man she encountered.
And just when he didn't think it could get any more amusing, Betelgeuse turned her down and was proven completely wrong. She could get more amusing. Her reaction to his decision was rather strong. It was enough to make him smile and chuckle even now.
"She may have been happy when I tried to charm her, but she could not handle rejection," chuckled Betelgeuse. "Do you remember how she started shouting? Didn't care that half the village was watching and listening and barely noticed when her brothers tried to drag her away. Ermyntrude just kept yelling."
"What exactly did she say? I can't recall precisely what she shouted that day, even though she was quite the spectacle," Galeren said, smiling slightly as he tried to remember.
Still chuckling at the memory, he said, "She yelled a lot of things. She accused me of leading her on, of being a heartless monster, and of not deserving her and her dowry. At one point, she tried to accuse me of being a demon who sought to lead virtuous women astray. Then she decided to risk a bit more by trying to curse me with misery. She was ranting like a madwoman, saying that I shall be 'cursed to lose any love I might seek in life, to never have the happiness of marriage, and to be trapped by my wretched nature in misery and solitude.' It was surprisingly creative, if pointless."
"She is lucky that no one took her seriously. Others might have taken her words as an admittance of witchcraft," Galeren said. "I've heard tales of the fates that befall wisewomen and wisemen in some places when accused by their neighbors."
"If she tried to curse anyone else, they might have been more upset by her words. As long as it was me that she was yelling at, they were satisfied simply dunking Ermyntrude as a public nuisance and letting her father take her home dripping." Betelgeuse smirked, "Hopefully your bride won't cause as many issues as Ermyntrude did."
Galeren gave him a scowl that didn't completely disguise the way he was fighting against laughter. After all this time, the young man knew Betelgeuse didn't mean anything negative about the black-haired young woman. He was merely teasing. It was nice speaking with someone who understood.
"Betelgeuse," a voice called. "Galeren. It is so nice to see you this fine evening."
Waving at the pair, Sibylla approached them with two of her children. Her third and eldest daughter had left the village a few years ago after marriage. The woman, even with the wrinkles and graying hair, was still attractive. Not that he would flirt with her too much since she was married and, as she seemed to enjoy reminding on regular occasions, she was there when he was born. Of course, she'd been present for a large number of births. As the best midwife and wisewoman in the village, she made it her business to be there for as many as possible to ensure that both mother and child had the best chance to survive. Perhaps things would have been different if she wasn't out of the village the day that his mother… Well, dwelling on the past never helped anything. Regardless, Sibylla was a lovely woman and a welcome sight within the village.
Her daughter, about four years younger that Betelgeuse, showed signs of matching her mother's looks someday. Avelyn's hair was a lovely chestnut shade, her eyes were a grayish-blue, and she always seemed to have a pleasant smile for everyone. She was learning her mother's skills already and would undoubtedly become a similarly skilled midwife someday. Holding her basket with one hand, she freed up the other to wave.
Her son, Derrick, was less happy to see them. The boy, who was only a year younger than Betelgeuse, was scowling. His hair was a darker shade than his sister while his eyes were a murky green shade that seemed intent of staring down the serf. He used his basket to keep his distant, keeping the woven container filled with herbs between him and Betelgeuse.
"It is good to see you as well, Goodwoman Sibylla," said Galeren. "How have you been of late?"
Smiling, she said, "Quite well, thank you. Even with my body growing a little slower and a little stiffer, I'm still managing fine. My children and I just returned from collecting some herbs that just don't seem to grow as well in my garden as they do in the forest." She paused briefly, glancing at Betelgeuse, and said, "Not the forest where you live. The less marshy, boggy one that is closer to the manor."
"Though I'm sure there are some nice plants near your house," added Avelyn, clearly afraid he would be offended otherwise.
Betelgeuse shrugged, "You're welcome to look around my property if you want, but I doubt you'll find anything useful for your herb lore. If you do venture into the marshy forest, be careful not to get lost or stuck. It is far too easy to get turned around or trapped in the muck."
"Sounds like a foul and vile place," muttered Derrick. "You must feel right at home."
Sibylla glared at her son harshly, but Betelgeuse didn't care. He'd heard worse directed towards him and his father all the time. It was just the way it was. Why bother caring about what everyone thought when he knew they were just spiteful and foolish? If the young man wanted to hate him and assume the worst, Betelgeuse didn't care. It didn't change anything.
Shifting his load of bread, Betelgeuse said, "I must be heading back home, I'm afraid. There is still much to do before I can retire for the evening."
"Of course," nodded Sibylla. "Take care, Betelgeuse."
"Let me know if you need any help, Betelgeuse," added Galeren. "I'm sure we can work out a deal if necessary."
"Good bye, Goodman Betelgeuse," Avelyn said, waving as he turned to leave.
Heading out of the village, he couldn't help thinking about the strangest thing. He turned the thought over and over in his head. Actually, it was two separate thoughts that just somehow felt connected.
The first was that he was now the age that Galeren was when he first began to gain feelings for Agnes. The second and far stranger thought was that, someday in the not-so-distant future, Avelyn would be a very pretty young lady.
All right, I know this wasn't the most action-packed and intense chapter. But this one sets up a few things, covers the loss of Remfrey, and shows Betelgeuse becoming more interested in women. He's gradually becoming the character we're all familiar with. And soon we'll have a plague and some death.
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