Working the Fields

I awoke eagerly before first light to begin the spring planting. Winter sucked my energy like being choked in a bog, but with the beginning of spring plowing and planting, I would have no break from dawn until dusk until the heavy snows again. I snatched some small hunks of bread and cheese on my way out the door. I ate only about half of them on my way to the fields.

            I noted during my brisk walk to the other side of the village that Mother and Father could never walk the distance, let alone carry out the hard labor in the fields.  At least they try to take care of the animals while I am away. Sometimes the animals were left to care for themselves, a common practice for our neighbors. However, my mother, too kind-hearted to see our animals skinny and sick, insisted we feed them. As a soft bleat drifted on the air toward me, I remembered how Mother vexed me because of the little food we had as a result. But after raising Tilly myself, I no longer blamed her. Anyway, God seemed to watch over us for our kindness because our animals did not die as frequently as our neighbors’.

As I approached the fields, I joined with more and more villagers. I hailed most of them, and they politely returned my greeting but did not continue a conversation. At least the village will still work with me during planting and harvest seasons, I thought. It was impossible for me to plow my own fields, and the timing of the harvest was so delicate that I could never finish before the grain rotted. The grain had to be cut, dried in the fields, threshed, and finally gathered for storage in the few short weeks between the hot weather and the approaching snow or rain.

Some laborers were already plowing the fields as I approached.  An older man pointed across what resembled countless molehills to where I would be working that day – my own field. I strode across the fields, gathering sticks as I went. Dreading beating clods of earth with the bundle I had created from the branches, I envied the richer villeins with their horses, donkeys, and mules harnessed to harrows instead. The animals dragged the wooden frames with pegs or spikes on one side across the field to break up the big clods of dirt as well as cover the seeds. So much time and travail saved.

Beholding my own empty field, I was grateful again the villeins shared provisions to make plowing as effective as possible. Those fortunate enough to own oxen offered them to pull the heavy plows, while those like me paid with portions of their harvests. All the same, plowing fields was so slow that even with several teams working, it still required an entire day to plow one acre of land. As there were only three in my family, Lord Gilbert gave us little land, and it would only take two days to prepare it. I would still beat dirt or cover seeds in the other fields for several weeks after that. Sometimes we worked over a month to finish all the fields.

 I thrashed the ground alongside Elizabeth and Joan, daughters of the tanner and butcher. After we prepared a few rows, Elizabeth and Joan covered my seeds as I sowed them. I planted barley and oats today; next time I worked my own field, I would add beans or peas.  Wheat and rye had been growing since late last fall.

“He came again last night,” Elizabeth said.

“That’s a lot of times this week,” Joan replied. “Is it serious?”

“I hope so. He’s a good man. I worried I’d end up a spinster.” I tried to ignore the pang in my own heart since Elizabeth was a year younger than I, and Joan three years younger.

 “Who is the fortunate man?” I asked.

Elizabeth and Joan glanced at me. “John, the midwife’s son.” Then they returned to their hoes and chatted as though I had never interrupted.

“I think he’ll talk to my father when the planting’s done,” Elizabeth said. Then she stood tall and gazed several fields away with a smile on her face. “He’s even driving one of the plows this year.”

Joan and I both watched where Elizabeth pointed. The young man gripped the pair of handles angling down to a large v-shaped blade. The bar that connected the harness to the blade jerked with the oxen’s movement as it ran parallel to the ground. A staff hung behind the harness to adjust the depth of the furrows.  Behind the staff, a small blade began to cut into the earth. These parts helped, but it was that awkward rear blade that made the deepest cut and pushed the earth to either side. Keeping the rows straight was difficult for even the most experienced plowers, so none of us mocked John as he struggled with the heavy plow in the hard earth. At least he doesn’t have to turn very often in the long strips of land, I thought.

I tried another conversation. “Joan, do you have any suitors yet?” Joan‘s dark hair and eyes against creamy skin charmed everyone, and I felt sure she would marry quickly. I, on the other hand, looked quite plain (except for my green eyes), and had had no suitors.

“A few,” she replied.

Elizabeth finished the conversation. As usual, most girls my age did not want to talk to me, so I listened instead. “What about the miller’s son?” she said.  “I heard he comes over a lot.”

“Yeah, but he’s a churl. And a knave. I’m worried my father will accept him ‘cause he’s richer than the blacksmith’s son.”

“Adam is interested?” Elizabeth asked.  “I didn’t think he was interested in anyone. He’s so quiet. Not like his mother at all.” They both giggled, and I smiled at the thought of Mrs. Smyth trying to get me in trouble, and how her face fell as my parents hurried her out of our house.

Joan turned red. “He’s come a few times. Once he stopped when my parents weren’t home. I tried to get him out fast so no one would talk. At least my sisters were there. But he did kiss me as he left.” She brushed her cheek, a far-off look in her eyes.

I wonder what it would be like to kiss a man? Marrying age had nearly passed me by, and the only man who ever visited was William.  But that was not courting.

I finished my row and moved to the next one, which happened to be next to Sarah and Dorothy, twin eleven-year-old daughters of the midwife. “Good morning, girls.”

“Morning, Anna,” they answered together.

“How are you two today?”

“Well,” Dorothy answered.

“Forsooth, a little tired and sore,” Sarah added. Dorothy quieted her complaints. I laughed.

I pretended a whisper. “I am starting to get a little sore myself.” Then I raised my voice to normal. “The first couple of days of planting or harvesting are always the worst, but then your body gets used to the work. I hear your brother is courting Elizabeth.” I nodded in the direction of the two older girls.

“Aye, I think so,” Dorothy said.

“He’s just waiting until planting is over to ask for her hand,” Sarah said. Dorothy elbowed her in the ribs. “Ow! What? It’s true.”

“But we aren’t supposed to know. If Father and Mother knew we spied on those two, they’d flay our hides for sure.”

“It’s not like we’re the only ones. I’ve heard Tom and Edward too.” I laughed at the two girls bickering.

John was the oldest of seven children. Their mother was the village midwife because she had had so many living children, including these very different twins. Dorothy was quiet, but I really liked Sarah a lot. She acted much like me, although she could control her tongue better. “Do not worry, girls. Your secret is safe with me.”

We beat and planted all through the morning. Sweat poured down my body even in this early spring. At least full summer has not arrived yet. I was sure my face was filthy from using dirty hands to wipe the moisture out of my eyes.

Tired and sore, I stretched my back and breathed deeply. I savored the scent of the earth again after so many months of only smelling smoke near the houses and the bitter cold in the open. The rich scent stirred up by the plows lingered in the air long after they had passed. But planting season also marked the time of year when the village reeked of filth: unwashed bodies, sewage, the stench of animals, the tannery, and all kinds of other rubbish. The heat of summer only increased it. If you were rich, you could purchase smelling salts to wear around your neck to block the stench. One more reason I wish I were rich, I thought as I leaned back over the dirt.

Villeins broke for dinner when the sun was directly overhead. Now that I had a moment, I realized I was starving. I gathered with the others in the same field and pulled out my remaining bread and cheese. Sarah and Dorothy sat near me, so I tried to continue our talk. As Sarah answered my questions, her gaze drifted to behind me, then down to the ground, and finally, she shortened her answers. After a few times of this, I turned to see what was behind me. Joan and Elizabeth sat a few rows over, seemingly involved in a dialogue themselves, but I could see their eyes still shifting. I gave up, resolving to eat in silence.

A few minutes later, one of Lady Margery’s servants, Alice, wound her way toward me. She told me Lady Margery wanted to have dinner with me on the morrow.

“I would love to, but I am working the Lord’s demesne tomorrow.” I was fortunate to plant some of my own crops so early, but I still had to work Lord Gilbert’s land as payment for our own fields.

“That will be even better,” Alice said. “The demesne is closer to Lady Margery’s home. She will bring a meal out to you.”

I noticed villeins return to the fields. I sighed at the shortness of the meal, and accepted Lady Margery’s offer gratefully, but could no longer chat.