#1320s

[artschoolglasses]

The Hours of Jeanne d'Evreux, Queen of France, Jean Pucelle, 1324-28

From the Met Museum

[soffiisims]

Remembering

Matti Erikinpoika

1291–1327

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[mack-simmer]

1329

(cw: child death)

We're back at the Hazelwood farm for 1329 and Margery is pregnant again!

Alaric couldn't be happier. He loves being a dad and is constantly spending time with his boys when he should be working.

Edward is also very excited to have another sibling!

Meanwhile, the farm is continuing to thrive. Matilda and Oliver do what they can to help out as they get older.

Later in 1329, Piers ages into a toddler and is super cute!

He loves playing with this big brother and likes to run around outside.

One night, he gets up while everyone is still sleeping to go play outside. He ventures over to the nearby pond to splash and look at the fish.

Tragically, he wandered a bit too far into the water and couldn't make it back out. His parents found him early the next morning, but it was too late.

R.I.P Piers Hazelwood, 1327 - 1329

The stress and grief of losing a child sent Margery into labor.

Fortunately, both her and the baby were healthy. It was a bittersweet feeling, being both filled with joy and sorrow. The new baby was another boy, and they called him Randolf.

A few days later, the family gathered to say goodbye to Piers.

[treasuresfromthearchives]

Manuscript Illumination with Scenes of Easter in an Initial A, from an Antiphonary

Nerius Italian, Bolognese

ca. 1320

"Nerius' name is known from his signature on a legal manuscript, for which Bologna, with its great university, was renowned. This example of his work, however, was created for a community of Augustinian monks. The scene weaves the accounts of two Gospels. Following Mark, the women approach the tomb of Jesus to anoint his body but find an angel at his empty tomb. According to Matthew's report of what happened to two holy women on Easter Sunday, they meet Jesus as they leave."

[art1for2the3masses]

Goodhart-Ducciesque Master, Madonna and Christ Child, detail, 1310/1320

[townsenddecades]

1333 – Day 1 – Townsend Farm (2/3)

While the family is still grieving the loss of Malcolm’s and Hawise’s second son, Benedict’s condition worsens. Where before he had still been able to participate in family life from his bed, he seems now to be getting weaker by the day, wracked by coughs and aches. When one of the rest of the family sits beside him – which is almost constant now – it is to keep an eye on him as he sleeps, not merely to keep him company when he is awake.

At this point, they don’t just fear that he is nearing his end, they know that he is. So, they do their best to make him comfortable, to cheer him, and to not indulge in a foolish hope that maybe, just maybe, he might recover. Hoping too much would just make the grief worse.

While Malika sits with him, she reflects on the twenty years that she spent under this man’s roof – on all the reasons she has to be grateful to him, in truth. Benedict, who welcomed her into this family with open arms even after her pregnancy out of wedlock and impromptu wedding to his son. Benedict, who always been a tender, attentive grandfather to her children, a counsellor for her and Benjamin, and who didn’t turn against her even during her ill-advised scheme to seduce Clement Dudley. Whenever she or Benjamin have run into trouble, he was ready to lend an ear or advise them.

She wonders if she ever showed him as much gratitude as she now realizes he deserves. It is partly this which makes her watch over him and tend to him with as much fervour as she is physically capable of.

And she can only hope that he knows how much she appreciates all that he has done for her and her family, because although she wants to, she soon finds her throat closes whenever she tries to tell him while he is awake.

There are times when Benedict feels a little brighter, too.

During one such moment, he even feels well enough to get out of bed for a time, which he promptly uses to approach his son. Benjamin has been quietly stoic about the entire matter, but he already dreads losing his father. He hardly remembers his mother– she has been gone for more than twenty years, after all – but his father has always been there, has always lived with him.

As it turns out, his mother is also the person his father wants to talk about.

“I’d like to visit your mother’s grave and see the priest. But I fear I won’t make it to the chapel on my own in this snow.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? Even with help, that’s a long trip, and you’re still recovering. I could ask the priest to come here.”

At that, his father gives him a sad smile. “I think I should use the chance to visit your mother while I’m still well enough, don’t you think? I don’t believe I have much time to waste.”

Benedict’s sobriety as he says this nearly makes Benjamin’s breath catch. It seems as if there is no fight left in him. He doesn’t even appear fatalistic, just…resigned to the fact that his end is coming. Benjamin wonders if he could be as calm about something like that.

But then again, his father has lived a long, good life. Only good things can await him in the Watcher’s embrace. And isn’t that what they all suffer this oftentimes hard existence for?

“It’s too late in the day now”, he says. “Let’s see how you feel tomorrow, alright?”

The next day comes, but with such heavy snowfall – even this late in the season – that it’s impossible even for the (relatively) young and healthy among them to venture out farther than is necessary. Benedict, in his state, is in no condition to go out at all. And before the weather breaks, his health worsens again, and any plans to visit the chapel are put on hold.

His health doesn’t improve again, and Benjamin knows exactly what it means when his father asks him to summon the priest.

Benedict Townsend, father, grandfather and great-grandfather, passes away on February 16, 1333, at fifty-seven years of age.

It’s a proud age, for a peasant, and his death it far from unexpected. Maybe that should make it easier to bear for his family, but it doesn’t. He dies in his sleep, so even Amye and Adeline, who are sitting with him at the time, don’t immediately notice his passing, but they gather the entire household once they do.

It doesn’t seem real, at first. Most of them – excepting, of course, Hawise – have lived with him for most of their lives. It is strange to see him still and cold, and Benjamin especially doesn’t want to believe it. His father can’t be gone. He can’t. What is he supposed to do without him?

He asks himself the question but doesn’t dare give it voice. If his father’s spirit yet lingers, he doesn’t want him to deter him from seeking the afterlife. His father has always given him, and his siblings, every possible support. And Edith and Simon and Helen and their mother are surely there to greet him, along with the many grandchildren he has lost. It’s only just that he should be allowed to go there without regrets.

In life, his father had put his entire heart and soul into being there for this family. In death, Benjamin owes it to him to take that place.

He vows to himself that he will make his father proud.

Previous: 1333, Day 1, Day 2/4 <--> Next: 1333, Day 1, Day 4/4

[timesimmer]

TW: Violence, Torture, Murder

The damp, stone chill of the King's guard barracks pressed against King Philip's skin as he watched Earl Henford dragged before him. The man, once a figure of considerable power, now knelt in the dirt, his fine clothes torn and stained, his face bruised and swollen. Sir Tristan, Philip's sworn sword, held him roughly, the iron grip a stark reminder of Henford's diminished status.

"A long way you have fallen, Earl Henford," Philip said, his voice laced with a cold satisfaction.

Henford lifted his head, his eyes burning with a mixture of defiance and fear. "Your Majesty, I have done nothing wrong. I am being held without due process."

Philip gave a harsh, mirthless laugh. "I am the law of the land, Henford. What I say, goes."

"Then why?" Henford pleaded, his voice trembling slightly. "Why am I being held?"

"It has been reported," Philip said, his eyes narrowing, "that you have spoken ill of myself and the Ashdowns. Furthermore, you have corresponded with my traitorous wife, offering her gold and men for her war against me."

Henford's face drained of color. "Your… Your Majesty… those are lies."

Philip turned to Sir Tristan. "Sir Tristan, is this man correct? Are these reports lies?"

Sir Tristan tightened his grip on Henford's bound hands, pulling him upright. "No, Your Majesty. They are not lies. Not only have his servants confirmed his actions, but his younger brother has also testified against him."

Henford spat, his voice thick with venom. "No doubt he sold his own kin for bags of gold."

Philip smiled, a cruel, predatory expression. "And your title, Earl Henford. He tells us the truth, and the truth deserves reward. You, however, deserve punishment."

As Sir Tristan began to drag Henford away, the Earl's composure crumbled. "Please! Your Majesty, I am sorry! I will do anything! Please!"

Philip followed them down the winding, torchlit passage to the dungeons, the stench of damp stone and despair filling his nostrils. He watched with a detached curiosity as the guards prepared Henford's demise, the clang of iron and the rasp of ropes a grim symphony.

When it was over, Philip rewarded his men, his voice ringing with false benevolence. He outlined his plans: the capture and interrogation of other nobles who dared to oppose him and the Ashdowns. The whispers of rebellion would be silenced, the dissenters crushed beneath his heel. The Stagfield banner would fly high, not on the wings of affection, but on the chilling winds of terror.

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Jug, 1325-75, Western Europe.