Child of the Northern Spring by Persia Woolley

Author:Persia Woolley
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical fiction
ISBN: 9781402245220
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services Inc.
Published: 1987-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter XXV

The Betrothal

During the next year life at Rheged’s court was placid and slow and dull. I stayed with the household at the big house in Carlisle, diligently studying Latin, turning out pieces of neat embroidery, and occasionally doing mathematical problems. This last activity was based on the concepts Cathbad had taught, and it confused Vinnie considerably. That may be one reason I enjoyed it.

There did seem to be an increase in visiting royalty, particularly after Arthur’s treaty with Urien was signed. Mostly our guests were kings looking for a wife for themselves, their sons, or, sometimes, their grandsons. Once in a while women came too: protective mothers or sisters whose eyes assessed everything about me and my surroundings even as they babbled on about inanities. In general, however, the men came alone.

Occasionally my father took me on state visits if the weather was good, the atmosphere right, and he felt I could learn something of value. I appreciated the chance to get away from Carlisle and found the interplay of personalities and politics among our northern neighbors fascinating. It was certainly more challenging than needlework, and I made an effort to learn the various dialects in order to understand the nuances of diplomatic discussions.

When Vinnie began to feel I was well in hand, she attacked the problem of the Church. At one time there had been a notable congregation in Carlisle, and the building they had constructed specifically for holy use still stood, half-roofed and moldy, but a church nonetheless. My governess set about trying to revive interest, not only among the local people but with the leaders of the Church itself. She sent off wooden tablets with letters inscribed inside, begging, pleading, and cajoling any clergyman she had ever heard of, and was eventually rewarded with a letter from London saying that a man from Saint Ninian’s monastery would be sent to Carlisle to act as pastor for the flock. I had never thought of Christians as sheep, or holy men as tenders thereof, but Vinnie assured me that in Rome that was how things were done.

I agreed to accompany her to the festivities surrounding the bishop’s arrival after she promised me that it wouldn’t commit me to anything in the future.

I was hoping the new leader would be Father Bridei, the Pictish monk we had hosted at Loch Milton, but he turned out to be a narrow, crabbed man who scowled at the world in principle and looked through women as though they didn’t exist. I couldn’t help wondering why some Christians were loving and caring toward their fellowmen while others were constantly judgmental and difficult. There didn’t seem to be an answer, and in the end I thanked Vinnie for her concern over my soul and kept a fair distance between myself and her religion.

It was Vinnie’s contention that women must live and work in their own separate world, and more and more I found myself sequestered in what she called “the women’s quarters.” It was

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