unfinished Medieval tale

I began writing this and don't know how to finish it.. Or even if there's any Point finishing it because it I don't know if it's going anywhere. It'd be nice if people gave me their opinions on it!

Christmas has come to pass! It's weird, I look forward to it every year and then it's gone again in the blink of an eye! It was fun, though, and for perhaps the first time this year, there was plenty to eat for all!

(the crops were really bad this year as it rained and rained and rained and not a spot of sun showed and even when the crops were rotated round in January, they did not grow very well in the too-wet-soil and lack of sunlight.

But then the rain, finally, stopped and the clouds departed and the sun came out and everyone cried 'Hurrah!' and there was lots of singing and dancing and the crops grew well again. So now I am full and happy and content.

I have just finished my lunch: a bowl of pottage, a glass of milk and some rye bread to dip into the stew. Not the most exciting meal, but then, what else is new? At least there's plenty to go around. My two sister's Hildegard and Beatrix are loving it, and my four other brothers; Joseph, Geoffrey, William and Mark are lapping up their bowls like dogs.

Now Beatrix and Hildegard have returned to their chores of washing up the dishes and Hildegard as the spinster on the spinning wheel and Mother has gout out her crafty old broom and has begun sweeping, and I must follow my brothers and father out to the crops again. At least it's not raining, I suppose. Yet.

Out in the fields it is hot and sunny. The sun is beaming down from a clear blue sky and perhaps it wasn't going to rain, after all. We have few farming tools out here and the ones that we do have are clumsy. And since we used the sickles and the scythes, yesterday, to cut and mow the grass, I have a nasty feeling that we will be reaping and binding the harvest today. That feeling was right. Father just ordered us to move along to higher ground. Here goes a long, boring day.

* * * *

It was nearing the end of the day but the slowly cooling sun was still high in the sky. We had worked hard since lunch, and finally we had bound and reaped a harvest of a mere two and a half acres. But we had done well and worked hard and Father looked happy. Usually we got only two acres done but today I had worked especially hard in the hope that I would be allowed an hour or so of free time before tea. I looked down at Father hopefully, who beamed up at me, his grizzly grey face slightly sunburnt despite his large, scabby brown old hat that he had kept for years and the top of his long, plump nose had turned pink.

Although he had to smile up quite away since I had outgrown him by far and as I grew taller and taller he grew shorter and shorter. It almost looked like he was the kid and I the father.

Except sons of still-alive-fathers don't usually have grey hair.

'Walter John Humphrey', he said, still beaming, 'I am proud of you. You have done nothing but work hard all day long and been the main cause of the extra half acre. Unlike some people I could mention'- he turned to glare at Geoffrey, William, Mark and Joseph who shrank back into the shadows of the trees-

'As I was saying'- he paused to cough-'um, where was I?' He looked lost.

I sighed impatiently. By the time Father finished his speech the sun would have gone down.

'Something about the binding and reaping?'

'Ah, yes. Son, you have worked extremely hard today. Unlike some people I could mention', and he turned around to glare at my brothers who sighed in irritation.

'Um, Father?'

'Yes, son?'

'You already said that. Can I go now?'

'Yes, of course, son', then he walked off saying something about how he would have to make an appointment with Will again. Will was an old family friend from way back and the local town physician. Will was great with all kinds of complicated procedures but I knew his advice would just be the same:

'Do things over and over again to make sure you never forget them. Write things down so they get stuck in your head and you have them when you forget something. And remember, sleep is important'.

Although his advice was good I knew I could just as easily said these things myself. It was common sense. Something that my father was sadly lacking in. However, his wooden plates of pictures of all sorts of things to splash his memory was a good idea. So I wasn't going to complain. But just try carrying one of those things around all day and you'll see how easy they are to lose.

As father and sons turned towards the house I leaped across the heather, narrowly missing a fallen tree and skirting past a skunk which leapt off back into the trees. I was free. For at least an hour, anyway. Although it was the late twilight hours of the day and the cool evening was slowly turning into the chilly night I was going to make the most of it before the sun was gone altogether. So I ran past the long, golden barley, glinting in the sun, out of the clear open and into the woods.

It was cool in the woods...

'Walter? Walter?'

'What?' I awoke from my sleepy daze of never-to-be-forgotten memories and sat up from under my thin rug that I used as a blanket on board the deck of the ship.

'Come eat breakfast and then come help wash the deck. Also, the hen's coop needs scrubbing and Captain wants you to polish all his trophies', said Francis Yeules.

'Right', I stretched and stood up. I pulled on my brown jumper over my lightweight- chain mail that Father had insisted I wore and pulled and buckled up my long, pointy black leather boots and fastened the silver buckles on each one. The jumper was very itchy and tickled my neck but you got used to that after a while.

I found Francis eating nuts and raisins and a large, colourless biscuit on the side of the deck.

I sat down beside him and he gave me my share of the food. We ate in silence for a while. The only sound that could be heard was the crunch, crunch of the nuts and the biscuits and the munch of the raisins.

'Where is everyone?'

'They'll be up shortly. But I was hungry and I didn't really want to eat by myself'.

That was understandable. After breakfast everyone separated to do their own chores and the captain made sure that we didn't say so much as a word to each other, or even look at each other, so as to be fully focused on the task at hand. We sat in silence for some more. I listened to the gentle flapping of the white sails and the swish-swash of the dark blue sea. I had been here about year now. Only two or three more years to go and we'd be there. I munched and munched some more. The biscuits were dry and tasteless and the nuts and raisins weren't much better. Francis handed me his flask of water; I thanked him, I had finished mine last night and we were allowed only one a day as water was scarce here.

Presently everyone else awoke and as they ate I watched the sea and the sails. The sails were a combination of the triangular sails of the Mediterranean and the square sails of the Atlantic. This, combined with the wood of the sides and underneath the ship overlapping each other which I had learnt was called clinker-built, made all ships faster and stronger and easier to manoeuvre. I found the man who had discovered it very clever; I would never have been able to work it out myself.

After everyone had breakfasted we all lumbered off to do our daily jobs. I walked down the creaky wooden stairs to the storage room. In it were brooms and mops and towels and buckets and long coils of rope and bandages- and- I found what I was looking for- a scrubbing brush, a bucket and an old rag, picked them up and took them up onto the deck. Once there I set to scrubbing the deck with seawater and soap. I soaked the filthy old rag in water and then rung it onto the deck, grated some soap flakes with my pocket knife, and set to work.

By lunch time I had scrubbed the main part of the deck. Ellyn, Eloise and John had scrubbed the front and the back and the sides.

As I lunched on salted beef, a swig of water from my flask and a small handful of almonds and cashews I noticed something sticking out from inside one of the planks. Filled with curiosity I looked all around to see if anyone had noticed and yanked it up and out.

It was a dark red, leather book. I recognised it at once. I had written in my diary for almost a whole year and it was crammed full of my small, irregular writing.

Friday, November the something.

I wonder if Margo Roden will be out in the forest today? She has the most lovely voice I have ever heard. She'll have to be there to do a little washing, anyway, even if not for anything else.

Her sky blue, soft blue eyes pull me in... kind of like a bog, her dark pink lips look good enough to kiss, she's so bright and chirpy and funny and cheery and optimistic and caring and kind and good fun and she's such a talented singer and dancer that I never realised just how much in love with her I was until Raymond said she liked Giotto and Lobelia kept going on about her possibly liking Giotto and how after that I was so, so sad I thought my heart would break and how when she said:

'Walter and Margo. Hmm. What do you think?'

I immediately felt this nice, warm feeling inside me.

And how every time she rushes by me, chasing after her large, brown dog Mary and sais hello, no matter whether I'm expecting it or not my stomach squirms together and my heart splutters and speeds up and I get this very warm feeling inside me.

And at the Yule Ball it was like when I first met her all over again; I allowed myself to be pulled into her eyes and became so overwhelmed with love I almost forgot everything else but her and me and I had to fight the urge to swing my arms around her neck and kiss her passionately.

How truly incredible it would be to kiss her, full on the lips and have her love me too. If only.

Oh Margo how would it fare

If you and I could be a pair

And sit on the bench

And build up the suspense

And kiss until the day goes dark?

Oh Margo how would it be

If you and I could only see

How much we love each other

And love to spend time with each other

Now how would that be?

Because Margo I really love you

I really, really do

If only you loved me too

Oh Margo dear

Monday, 26^th November.

I didn't see Margo today. But the other day I did and she looked so, so pretty. I had this really close up view of the back of her head since I was right behind her; buying cheese and a loaf of bread since we hadn't time, to process the milk yet and the wheat fields wont grow for a good few months yet. And I realise now that I look at her way too much. Like if she doesn't already know I like her from my extreme shyness around her and the time when me and Clarise were munching apples in an apple tree and Clarise whispered, very loudly whether I liked her or not and I just nodded my head when she was standing almost directly below us (then I was saved by a very angry neighbour wanting to know what we were doing up his apple tree) then she'd know by how often I look at her; or rather gaze at her adoringly, my heart full of passion and my brain fuzzy.

And since I look at her a lot and love her, and she barely looks at me at all (and I see her quite a bit from visiting our monk friend Luke and admiring but never buying the works of Donatello and Giotto, Filippo Brunelleschi and Leon Buttista Alberti paintings), I take it as a sign that I do not interest her in the slightest.

Sometimes our eyes meet for a moment and then I break the stare by looking away and blushing.

So I've really got to try look at her as little as possible. Like as much as I look at my fellow companions and friends or she'll notice that something's up. That I'm in love with her. And that would be a disaster.

I only she loved me too. If only. All I can do is wish, imagine and ponder.

Reviews

[Jayhunter]

This is a really amazing story!!!! Hahaha, this is really good writing and if reviewed and stuff, I bet it could get published!!

[mia2014]

well, thanks Jayhunter! That's really nice of you to say! I guess I will have to continue it then!!! :)

[mia2014]

It would be great if people could give me their opinions on this story... Even just to tell me that there's no point in continuing it because I'm not sure if there is... Or to give me some advice on how to improve it