Since your hutmates are confined by the rain, they see your calisthenics. They ask what you're doing.
--M. J. Young
I try to remember what my fitness instructor said back when I was young, around ten years old.
"I'm training my body. While this rain is happening, I can't get outside enough to get exercise in, so I'm putting my muscles through strain in here to make up for it. You guys could probably do hundreds of repetitions, considering the physical strain you regularly put on your bodies."
I invite them to join me, because it's easier to do sit-ups with a partner to hold your feet down.
Sorry. They think there's something wrong with the notion of doing work that doesn't accomplish anything, although one of them will hold your ankles for you for a few minutes, if it helps.
--M. J. Young
I thank the man for helping, and continue my exercises. "It's to prepare you for the trials to come. Train your body so you'll be more successful in future attempts."
I will continue my routine, not caring if they want to exercise with me or not.
The rain stays with you, off and on, for a few days. Most of the food is cold, smoked meats but some fresh fruits and raw vegetables. Beer is also brought around by a sodden (within and without) Father Tuck.
--M. J. Young
While I continue with my own personal training schedule, I also offer to go out with the others to gather food, in order to learn the tricks of the trade as well as to make more friends in the camp.
The meat is obtained by hunting. The vegetables are gifts from villagers, in gratitude for the money handed to them to help pay their taxes.
You can help pass out the food, but since the rain has made it difficult to maintain a cook fire (and particularly to maintain one that won't send smoke visible for miles marking the camp's location) there's not much point in hunting meat you can't cook.
The rainy period lasts the better part of a week, but then you get some sunny days and return to the regular schedule.
--M. J. Young
The rainy days had been something to reflect upon, and given me much-needed time to meditate upon the events that transpired during my history as a verser. Already, I had managed to steel myself away and attempt some things that I weren't proud of. The one event that stays in my mind is the betrayal of Mariska. All just for knowledge.
This place seems to be a much better place than the stressful spy world for moral development. I decide to continue to train my body with the regular schedule of quarterstaff, bowyering, and physical exercize; however, I try to set some time aside as well with the Frair one afternoon.
When I'm able to track Tuck down, I ask him if he knows how to read, and if I could see a piece of parchment for the time in English. I want to see if I'm capable of reading the current english writing.
Note: I've had experience in Latin in high school. When I joined this game, I had already also had experience reading middle english, the Canterbury Tales, as well as older english with (untranslated) Beowulf and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.
Friar Tuck has a "prayer book", what amounts to the major litanies of the Church (which is the Roman Catholic Church, the year being sometime around 1200). It includes instructions for confession, extreme unction (a.k.a. last rites), mass for individuals and small groups, prayer for the sick, baptisms, confirmations, marriages, funerals, and similar simple ceremonies. It is in Latin, but with notes handwritten in English. The English is difficult, but you can make sense of it. I believe it is post-Chaucer but pre-Wycliff, but I'm not certain of my Chaucerian dates.
Tuck doesn't have much paper or ink about in the camp.
--M. J. Young
I would like to add in another part of my routine.
At least once during a day, I want to have a short conversation with Friar Tuck in Latin. Also, I express interest to Robin about how I might acquire money to purchase a modern (for this time) book, and where I would go for that.
If Robin doesn't know, then I will pose the question to Friar Tuck as well.
Tuck doesn't actually converse in Latin. He reads it well enough, but wouldn't dare attempt to write it (those verb conjugations are a lot tougher to reproduce than to recognize).
Nottingham is the largest city in Nottinghamshire, which is the shire in which Sherwood Forest is located. You might find someone there with a book for sale. Your better bets are London or Canterbury, both a long journey south. The Cathedral at Canterbury (I want to say it's properly Saint Stephens, but suffice for the moment that it is what you call Canterbury Cathedral, the older portions already standing) has a library and so the Archbishop of Canterbury will know how to contact book dealers. There are almost certainly book dealers in London, but unless you know a wealthy nobleman with interests in buying books you're not likely to find one. (Note that this is still a couple hundred years prior to the invention of the printing press, and that the majority of the population is illiterate, education reserved to the wealthy.)
As far as acquiring money for books, that would be a major challenge. You might find work as a scribe in Nottingham, mostly recording contracts and other legal documents, but you would have to work a long time to raise enough money to buy a book, even if you managed to avoid losing it all to the shire reeve's somewhat uneven tax plan. If there were easy ways to make a lot of money, the Merry Men wouldn't be taking it from wealthy Normans and giving it to poor Saxons to cover their tax debts.
--M. J. Young
I don't think verbal conjugations are that hard. You just have to memorize the rules and exceptions to the rules; however, I might have had more formal training than Friar Tuck did (I'd say I was taught by the best teachers and professors for Latin in the state, perhaps the country).
In that case, how would venturing into Nottingham in order to be a scribe effect returning to practice my other skills in camp?
The concern is that if you make the journey too often, you might be followed or might otherwise reveal the location of the camp. If you want to go into Nottingham and find work as a scribe there, no one will object, and you will be welcome to return if you wish; but if you're thinking of traveling there several times a week, that could be a problem.
--M. J. Young
This is a great dilema indeed. I allow myself to meditate on it for an afternoon while completing my other tasks around camp, as a bowyer and training with the quarterstaff. I ask John for assistance with the quarterstaff again.
Finally, I decide to submit to asking Robin for aid. I let him know that I'm interested in acquiring books to read; however, I have neither the resources nor the occupation to do so currently. I ask him for advice, and let him know that I'm willing to help him as well if he's willing to help me.
"Books? I'd wager the shire reeve has a couple somewhere in his stronghold, mostly for writing down what he's collected in taxes and what he's going to report having collected when he contacts Prince John."
The men laugh.
"I think we took a book off a wealthy merchant a year or so back. It was terribly difficult to sell; lost money on the deal, probably--cost more to take it to London and find a buyer than we got for it. I don't think I'd take another; but then, I don't think I've seen another since. What do you want with them?"
--M. J. Young
"I'm interested in simply reading and starting my own collection of texts. I'm not as familiar with this region's dialect. Also, I could help to teach some of the merry men here how to read.
I've just had a thought, as well. If you want to sneak into the shire reeve's place, I could very well look over his ledgers and discover where he gets his supplies and money from. It could help to catch them off guard when they travel."
I'm interested in simply reading and starting my own collection of texts.
Robin laughs, and those with him join. "It seems our guest fancies himself a noble already. He would have a library of books. Perhaps he can achieve such opulence as a highwayman."
...discover where he gets his supplies and money from. It could help to catch them off guard when they travel.
At this, Robin becomes more serious.
"We know where he gets his money--he takes it from the Saxon merchants in the city and the commoners in the villages. Although I suppose if we found any kind of schedule as to when they would attack--that is, collect taxes--where, we might interfere with them directly instead of sending money to them from our forest road tolls." Some of the men snicker at the idea that they are collecting tolls on the forest road. "Some idea of what supplies he is expecting would also be worth having, although most of what he can't get in Nottingham itself comes along our road through Sherwood, and he would not know when it would arrive. But we might know what to watch for if we know what he has ordered.
"More difficult is how to sneak into Nottingham Castle and find the books. Do you have ideas on that?"
--M. J. Young
I take no offense at the laughter. What they say is absolutely true.
"Well, do you suppose that they might be in need of a scribe?" I smirk to Robin, enjoying the thought of venturing into the castle. While it may be dangerous, the rewards far outweigh the risks.
"I just also need a way to communicate with you once I'm inside, and I will also need someone here to look after my animals."
The men look uneasily at each other when you mention someone looking after your animals.
"I think communication would work. If you can get a job in the castle as a scribe, you can certainly visit a pub in the evenings, and no one would question you having a favorite pub nor getting to know some of those who frequent it, so we simply have to select a pub not popular with the shire reeve's men.
"Do you write French? Most of the Norman correspondence and legal work is in French. Of course, they would also need someone who could write in any of the continental languages--German, particularly, and Spanish and Portuguese to some degree, and possibly Italian. And I dare say they might have use for someone who can write Gaelic or Welsh or Scottish, although it's not proved that the Irish, Welsh, or Scots can read. Then again, the Shire Reeve probably doesn't have much contact abroad; English and French would be sufficient."
This gets another laugh from the men, most of whom you realize can't read, either.
--M. J. Young
"Actually, no. I can't read and write anything but English and Latin. Do any of you know French or any other languages? How about the good Friar?"
I see a set of difficulties in this situation; however, if I can contact someone who, over time, could teach me French, then the mission could be successful without a hitch. Maybe I could even learn it from the castle.
"If no one here knows French, then where could I possibly learn it from? It's a language that indeed is needed for the mission. Do you think that I could still get work in the castle without knowing the language? Could I get in with just my knowledge of English and perhaps they would try and teach me French to make me more useful? That would extend the length of the mission, but it might still work well. Even better, if it requires I spend more time at the castle."
I ask the gentlemen for their thoughts on the plan.
bump
Friar tuck says, "Oh, I'm afraid I'm English and Latin, too, my son."
Robin says, "We're all Saxons; English is our language. I could give you a few French words--Mansion is what they call their houses, pork is what they call their pigs." His pronunciation is very English, not at all French. "But I've no idea about speaking the language."
"You could go to France," Will says. "I mean, I've never been there, and the King of France is not too happy with our own Royals, but you could learn French that way."
"If you can write Latin," Tuck says, "that might be worth something, along with English; and if you can give a credible account of yourself they might hire you to write Latin and English, and you could pick up the French while you're there. I don't know that they'd exactly teach it to you, but they talk it quite a bit, and if you listen and make the connections you might be able to pick it up."
--M. J. Young
"A credible account of myself?"
I address Robin, in private, about this. "I don't truly know what I should tell them. My adventure spans beyond simple travels accross the country. What do you propose I tell them in order to convince them to hire me? I could lie and present them that I originally come from London under the tutelage of a former friar in Latin, and then travelled down, finding myself in Nottingham. What do you think I should do?"
"Well, with your accent, you might say your were Welsh; but they might expect then that you could speak Welsh--not that anyone within a hundred miles of Nottingham does, so I suppose that would be fairly safe, and would explain why no one knows you. If you learned your English in Wales, it would be close enough and account for your idiosyncracies."
Incidentally, Nottinghamshire is both north and uphill from London, so it would have to be that you traveled "up"; but that's a small point.
--M. J. Young
"That sounds like a solid plan. I'll do it, then."
While following my regular exercise regimen and bowyer practice, I make sure to try and pick up any Welsh words that my comrades might know, no matter what they are. I'll write down everything I learn, fitting it into a logical structure (separating nouns from verbs, adjectives, and putting definitions next to them).
I look around once more for someone who might be able to care for the bear cub while I'm gone. How is the bear growing?
Robin says he's heard Welsh spoken, years ago, and it might be that Alain (who you recall left some weeks back to carry and collect news) knows the language some, but it's rarely heard this far north. It's sufficiently unlikely that the shire reeve would need anyone who can speak or write the language that you can use it to explain your accent. "If someone insists on hearing the language," he says, "make a lot of indistinguishable gutteral noise with some rolled R's and hard K's, and spit a bit, and you'll probably discourage them from asking again."
--M. J. Young
I laugh heartily at Robin's description of the Welsh language, and decide to take it as it is. "Alright, then. I shall head to the reeve's."
I stand, and then comically turn around, fully, and ask him, "Which way is the castle, exactly? I don't know my way around these parts."
If Robin finds it to be a good idea, I take Harry with me; however, I leave the bear behind, asking Robin to please find some way to care for him. I put emphasis upon its potential use later in Robin's struggles.
"John," Robin says with a laugh, "help our guest find the road to Nottingham."
"Get your gear," the big man says, "and something to eat on the road; it's at least another day by foot."
Apart from the bear, are you leaving anything here?
--M. J. Young
I'd like to bring all of my supplies with me yes.
Also, I adopt my x-ray glasses for a moment while still in camp, and attempt to use them to determine if they work in this world or not. I leave my quarterstaff (or makeshift stick) behind as well as the bear. I don't want to be associated with the merry men when I'm at the castle.
I ask Robin the name of the bar where he'd like to meet, and who exactly I should expect to meet at the location and when I'll be meeting them for the first time there.
I request some trail rations from the good people of the camp before taking my leave with Harry in the early morning, after going to sleep early the night before.
Harry was a fat cat before coming here. How is he doing now? Thinner? What does he generally do now?
Harry has trimmed down a bit and gotten a bit more muscular. You've been feeding him scraps, but he's been supplementing his diet hunting small birds, mice, moles and voles, and other small animals.
The glasses do work, although not as well as you remember. Still, you did not get that much use out of them before, so their use is still somewhat new to you.
He tells you the name of the bar, and says he doesn't know who will come but they will recognize him and introduce themselves appropriately. It will be one of the men you've met in camp.
They provide supplies for the trip, including a skin, which the good friar has filled with wine from one of his casks. He says it's a pity beer does not do well in wineskins, but the wine will keep well for the trip.
--M. J. Young
I accept the supplies graciously and take my own, heading down the road with Harry. I leave the bear cub with the camp, in hopes that they won't try to kill or eat it while I'm gone.
I wish everyone to take care of themselves before I leave, and follow the directions as well as I can that were given to me.
Little John leads you for about half an hour along game trails and ravines, reminding you of your stealth skills ("You should leave less of a trail than that cat of yours, if you want to avoid being caught in the forest"). He brings you to a road, and points you in what he says is roughly west.
"There are a few smaller paths off the main road, but they're easily recognized as such; simply follow this for about a day and a half and you'll come out in sight of Nottingham Castle.
"Good luck to you."
You walk the road without incident all day until darkness begins to close on you.
--M. J. Young
Have I picked up any nifty camping skills in my time with the merry men? What sort of examples might I follow right now in order to stay warm and with a marginal amount of safety through the night?
Basically, what can I imagine that my tent-mates would suggest in a situation like this?
Oh, indeed, you've picked up some basic wilderness survival training, and so have a rough idea of what you need--fire, water, shelter, food, and warm dry feet. You know how to make a mattress of mulch. You don't have much in the way of gear, but it's clear weather and you manage a camp for the night using the food and water you packed.
You're a bit dirtier at dawn, but none the worse for wear and you slept reasonably well under the forest canopy, your fire having died to coals and then to ashes before you awoke.
By midday you are leaving the forest and can see wide expanses of fields, grazing sheep, and the walls of a large town within a few miles.
--M. J. Young
The combination of the rest through the night and the city walls in the distance renews what vitality I have, and I begin walking with a little more umph in my pace to the great walls in the distance.
I beckon for Harry to follow me closely, and I decide to actually start carrying him when I find an actual gate to the city.
How does Harry look? Dirty? Mangey?
Since my notes on Harry do not say he is long-haired, I'm assuming he's short-haired; and my experience suggests that short-haired cats manage better with grooming when they are outdoors (as contrasted with long-haired, not indoors). I take it from that that he's no worse than you, and probably a bit better, because he doesn't need a tub or shower to keep himself clean.
The wheel ruts that comprise the road continue across the rolling pasture to a gate in the wall--which is not really a great wall, possibly eighteen feet high with limited crenelations, a fortification not needed for defense in some time probably now mostly maintained to keep sheep and wolves out of the residential neighborhoods. There is a guard at the gate, but it is evident that he is perfunctory, not interested in who comes or goes during the day and not even putting on much of a display of attention while out of sight of his superiors.
Just inside the gate is definitely a commercial district, with stalls and carts selling agricultural products ranging from vegetables to milk and eggs to chickens and pigs. Further in you find durable goods--clothing, cloth, tools, but also bakeries and cooked food. Most of the cooked food amounts to bread baked around cheese and/or vegetables, occasionally with meat.
The roads are crowded, more from the fact that carts and wagons seem to have stopped anywhere to do business than from the heavy foot traffic bargaining with them. Most of what is for sale is priced in pence, some even in farthings.
--M. J. Young
I've never really been a money connoisseur; however, I start to consider how the ample amount of franks in my pocket are surprisingly useless in this place, and that currency will always be a problem in these worlds. This either means to collect all that I can or that all of it is useless.
After this short-lived thought, I pick up Harry for the trip within the city, not wanting to lose him in the hustle of the city. I also keep a lookout for any thieves or pickpockets in the city, uninterested in being robbed of my possessions so early. I try and keep my body relaxed to feel for vectors, specifically if any move from my person in another direction.
While keeping this up, I approach the castle (if its position is obvious). If not, then I ask a guard for directions and make my way there.
The general direction to the castle was obvious before you entered the gate, although it is not so easy to spot now in the bustle of the marketplace. You can strike out in that direction and hope to see something useful, or you can ask someone. There are a couple people who might be guards--or armed bullies, it's hard to tell the difference when they help themselves to food without paying.
--M. J. Young
I decide to backtrack to the front gate and ask the guard there for the directions to the Castle.
Am I hearing people talk about how this is Nottingham?
I'm not quite sure what your question means. Are you looking for someone saying that it is Nottingham to confirm that's where you are, or something else?
You return to the gate and disturb the inattentive guard.
"The castle? What do ye want with the castle?"
--M. J. Young