Monthly Archives: August 2019

Letters from Armorica- Town Matters- (23 May 35 AF)

First Letter

Dear Journal,

It is ironic, I suppose. I spent the wagon ride to Bois-de-Bas alternately pondering how best to study Master Grenadine's writings and wishing for a peaceful soak in the hot springs—for I may say that while traveling by wagon is much quicker than walking, it has its own discomforts.

But I have been bogged down in town matters since my return. Mme. Golombaque, it seems, has been stealing flowers for her table from the garden of Mme. Poquerie. M. Alemagne's dog has been terrorizing chickens at local farms. My goat, Patches, has…but I do not want to think of my goat, Patches. I am simply grateful that Patches did not take it into her knobby head to join me in Mont-Havre, or I should be getting complaints from Honfleur or even Petit-Monde as well.

It seems that no one in Bois-de-Bas can settle any dispute without my aid.

I did get my soak this afternoon, of course, but no peace, for the town matters joined me there. I am increasingly attracted to the notion of moving my family to Mont-Havre. There, at least, I could continue my studies in peace! I said something of this to my Amelie just now.

"Oui," she said. "In great peace, between visits from the servants of le Grand Parlement and those of Lord Doncaster, and visits to the tailor for les vêtements de cérémonie, and invitations from tout le Monde, n'est-ce pas? For you are the Grandmaster, and there you must play le Grand Homme."

I believe I shuddered. I saw the beginnings of that dance myself at my meal with M. Archambault—and I have been familiar with the body of it from boyhood.

"Mais non," she said decisively, and kissed me on the cheek. "You will stay here, where you truly are le Grand Homme."

Ah, well. There will doubtless be further matters to settle tomorrow, and then perhaps I shall be able to settle down to my reading. I will take some time! Master Grenadine's grimoire is neatly written (at least in the earlier pages) but poorly organized, as grimoires generally are; and his Sur la Thaumaturgie has proven to be entirely opaque to me so far. I understand the words, but they seem to have no relation to anything in my experience as a former. But it is a book of reflections; and perhaps it will grow more concrete as I proceed.

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Letters from Armorica- The Political Question (20 May 35 AF)

First Letter

Dear Jack,

This is goodbye for now, for I must soon go meet M. Frontenac's wagoneer for the ride back to Bois-de-Bas. But I could not leave the city without telling you some of what has been happening, and some of what I've learned.

First, the Guild Hall is in excellent condition, far better than I could reasonably have expected, and now that it has been cleaned it wants only a few items of furniture and a goodly supply of food and new linens to be livable. I have not yet procured these things—I am not sure when I shall return, and I do not wish to encourage the mice. However, I did have M. D'Aubigny change the locks so that I shall be to enter without his help on my next visit.

I was sitting in the main room of the Guild Hall yesterday, pondering Master Grenadine's grimoire while a workman patched a mouse hole or two—I wonder, is there something I could form that would repel mice?—when to my surprise a boy in livery came to the door. It is a thing I have not seen since I left Cumbria! To be sure, there are a few servants in Mont-Havre, in the wealthier houses; but according to M. Suprenant they are generally younger sons and daughters who take a position for a few years to earn some money before heading out to build a new life in the provinces. And even these wear no livery; in thrifty Armorica, who would waste money on such things?

And yet here was a young lad in livery. He saluted me, handed me an envelope, and stood, waiting expectantly. I handed him a coin, which he took quickly enough, but said, "I am to wait for a response, monsieur."

I could see at a glance that his attire was quite new: a tight-fitting blue jacket and trousers, a white shirt and stockings, all topped off with a small blue cap. He had an emblem pinned to his cap and a matching bit of embroidery on the front of his jacket.

"That is quite an outfit," I said.

He regarded me proudly. "It is because I am in service to le Grand Parlement, monsieur!"

"And this is a new thing?"

"O, non, monsieur. I have been running messages for le Grand Parlement for many months."

"And yet I have not seen your uniform before."

He laughed. "O, that is quite new, c'est vrai They say it is because of Lord Doncaster. He dresses up his servants quite fine, and le Grand Parlement will not be outdone."

And so it begins. I am not sure what I think about it.

The message proved to be from a M. Archambault, a member of le Grand Parlement, asking me to dine with him that evening.

I will not weary you with a detailed narrative of the meal. M. Archambault is a tedious gentleman of the sort I am all too familiar with from my father's table in Yorke. He wished to meet with me in his role as representative of le Grand Parlement, and he used a great many words to inquire out what my plans were for the Guild and to whom I am loyal. I used a great many more words, loathing myself the while for speaking my father's kind of language, to say that I am loyal to my family in Bois-de-Bas, that I planned to continue my work in a quiet way, and that it would be a long time before the Guild had a regular presence in Mont-Havre.

"So you are not here as a representative of Cumbria?" he asked in so many more words.

"Hardly," I said. "Armorica is my home."

He did not ask me whether or not it was my intent to play politics; he can hardly think otherwise given the example of the guilds in Yorke and Toulouse, and his own proclivities.

I suppose it was inevitable that Archambault and his ilk would take notice of my presence here, but I mislike it, Jack. I mislike it.

Your cousin,

Armand

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photo credit: Mike Bonitz Ground via photopin (license)