Ash Wednesday
Agnès says me that if I leave Anne the management of the chateau. I must at least manage her.
I told Anne that I must see menus and read accounts once each week.
Now it might be that Agnès will leave me to my books.
six days after Ash Wednesday
The follow is a story my lord told me: At Chateau de Trécesson, a poacher saw two young men burying a young bride alive. The chatelain arrived and tried to save her, but it was too late. The men would not reply to him why they had committed the offense, and the bride had perished before being able to tell her story.
In demanding around the countryside, it was revealed that the two young men were, in actuality, the brothers of the woman. They were punishing her for having married a man of which they did not approve.
In honor of the bride, the chatelain hung her veil in the chapel. Now young women from all over the countryside come to touch it in the belief that she will help them find a husband.
I told my lord that I was glad I had no need of a husband, for touching the veil of a dead woman does not please me.
He laughed at me and replied to me that some women will do anything to catch a husband. And other women will do anything to keep one.
I demanded of my lord what must become of women who do not marry.
My lord says me that someone can usually be found to keep them. Even the church.
And I demanded of him why women may not keep themselves, as do men. Men may marry, they may join the church, or they may join a war. Why is it that women may not do the same?
My lord replied to me that women are not suited to life alone. They must be kept. And it is for men to keep them.
Or God, I recalled to him: men or God.
But I demand of myself, if women might join in wars, would the battles grow greater or lesser in number? Agnès guards bad thoughts of Anne and has since we have first arrived. I have not been witness to any battles in this war, but it seems to me there is one still the same. A war without reason. Perhaps it is better that women make not war with weapons.
two days after Saint Grégoire le Grand
This is not the country of Touraine. I am habituated to a land that is gentle, divided by rivers and streams. A land of green that gives fruit and wheat, a land on which the sun shines.
This land is savage. It is gray. And filled with trees. And they are mean, these trees. They have none of the generosity of spirit or of shade of the trees in my country. They are thin and spindly and they stand so close that no light can penetrate. And it is rare that I have seen the sun. I have seen fog grow lighter and begin to shimmer and warm with the hint of it, but I have not seen the sun these thirty-nine days.
All is dark.
The forests, the countryside, the people.
I demand of myself how a God who has created the sun and flowers and birds can make also a land so savage as this. Can He take pride in such a thing? Must it give Him so well a pleasure as my country? If it is true, I must not have known Him also as well as I thought.
day of Annonciation
This holy day, we heard mass in the chapel.
At least this one thing changes not. As I listened to the words I know by heart, I felt a tear start from my eye, and roll down my cheek. I closed them and wished myself back in the house of my father and I could imagine his chapel: the smell of the incense and the sound of the priest, and I felt the touch of his hand. But then I opened my eyes and saw it was only my lord, and he had patted my hand as he had seen my tear.
I have heard my lord praying this day, and in a language I could not comprehend. And so I demanded of him if he speaks in holy tongues.
And he did laugh and replied to me that if Breton be considered a holy tongue, then this is what he must be speaking.
I demanded of him why he must pray in Breton when he speaks so well in French and when the masses are spoken in Latin.
And he replied to me that prayer is a language of the spirit. His head may be French and his soul may be Latin, but his spirit must always be Breton.
I demanded of him to teach me Breton. And he replied to me that it is very difficult.
And I recalled to him that I know Latin as well as French.
And he says me that he will find a tutor.
five days after Annonciation
My lord began to tell me the story of the Song of Roland.
I stopped him as I have heard this story and demanded of him please to tell me another.
He replied to me that contrary to the Song of Roland that I have heard, this comte de Bretagne and nephew of Charlemagne did not die in Roncevaux in Spain, but rather at Dompierre near the valley of the Cantache in Bretagne.
This I had not known, so I told him to proceed.
It happened while he was returning from Spain, after having fought the Sarrasins. Roland came to the valley of the Cantache and wanted to leap across on horseback, for she whom he loved was waiting for him on the other side.
With the help of God, he succeeded.
He decided to try it again, in the name of the Holy Virgin. And succeeded.
When he tried the third time, in the name of she whom he loved, his horse slipped and they both fell from the precipice to the valley floor.
My lord says me that one can go there today, and if one looks closely enough, it can still be seen: the marks the horse made as it tumbled.
Nearby sits the Pierre Doutante, a rock from which drops of pure water fall: they are the tears of she whom Roland loved.
I had my own tears when he had finished telling this story.
He dried my eyes and demanded of me why I cried.
I demanded of him if he could not imagine the sadness of she whom Roland loved. The comte was so close, but then had slipped away and was lost forever. I think that the grief of the woman will stay with me forever. I demanded of my lord if he did not think so.
He told me that the only thing he thought was that Roland was stupid for trying to jump the valley three times when the first had done well enough. Then he rolled himself up in a fur in front of the fire and told me to go to sleep.
nine days after Annonciation
I demanded this day to see the accounts and the menus. This I should have done two months past. Anne has kept these since three years. I know not what is normal for quantities of food or for prices, but the handwriting of Anne is poor.
In the future, she will bring me receipts and I will keep the books. I promised to make time each week for these accounts.
This has satisfied Agnès.
thirteen days after Annonciation
The priest has come to teach me Breton. I took many notes of explanations, but after he left, I found I could not remember the sounds the letters must speak. They look the same as my own, but they speak with different accents, and sometimes so different an accent that they might as well be another letter entirely.
sixteen days after Annonciation
I worked all the long of the day on Breton, but I cannot guard it in my head. The structure is strange. The sounds are foreign. The words have no cousins in either of the languages I know.
seventeen days after Annonciation
Again the priest has come. I have fear that I do not please him: I had translated the phrases he had left into sounds using my own letters in the manner I am habituated.
And he says me that I cannot learn this way. And that it is not worth the effort to educate a woman. And if it were, why would I not wish to learn to write in Latin or in French.
And so I have shown him my journal, in which I write in French, and I have shown him my books, which I read in Latin. And I have told him also that he must keep his language for himself. There is no value in knowing a language which is no longer spoken at court.
day of Saints Jacques et Philippe
This day was a feast of which I was ignorant. On waking, Anne says me that this is the day of Saint Brieuc, but she had not the time to tell me of this saint, nor what he had done. And so I found my lord and demanded of him to tell me of this saint.
He replied to me that this is a founding saint of Bretagne. One of the seven who had given Bretagne the Christian faith. Saint Brieuc was taught by Germanus and performed many miracles and converted Cynan.
And I demanded of him who is Cynan, for of him I have heard nothing.
And he says me the follow:
Cynan was the son of the brother of Octavius the Old of Wales. And when Octavius will die, Cynan had thought to take the place of his uncle. But the daughter of his uncle was wed to a Roman, Magnus Maximus, and so Cynan must defeat the Roman before he can gain power. And this he tries, but in this he also fails. And so in place of becoming enemies, the Roman and Cynan become friends.
When the Roman takes the decision to travel to the Continent to become Emperor of the West Cynan takes the decision to come with him. And so Cynan kills the ruler of Armorica, here in Bretagne, and takes this position, and he and his men stay. But one problem is that they have no wives. And so Cynan demands of Donaut, the friend of his uncle, for many Cornish women. And it is decided that Cornwall and Armorica will be united when Cynan marries Ursula, the daughter of Donaut. But Ursula had wished to be a nun, and so she demands of Cynan some time to make a pilgrimage with eleven thousand girls. And this done, she and Cynan are wed in Rome by the pope.
But Ursula dies and Cynan does not marry again for many years, but becomes very powerful. And as his second wife, he takes the sister of Saint Patrick of Ireland. And when Cynan is dead, Armorica is divided in two to give to his sons who are Gradlon and Gadeon.
day of Ascension
This day I reminded myself that I have not learned of the other founding saints of Bretagne. And so again, I have searched my lord and in finding him, demanded the identity of the saints who remain. They are:
Saint Samson of Dol, who has the same day as Saint Nazaire. It was King Childebert who had named him bishop of Dol. Like the Samson of the Holy Bible, he had refused alcohol.
And there is Saint Pol Aurelian, also a bishop, who has the same day in spring as Saint Grégoire le Grand. He is said to have performed many miracles.
And Saint Tugdual, whom King Childebert named bishop of Tréguier. He had come from Britain with his mother, sisters, and other relatives.
Saint Patern, who shares the day of the Vénérable César. He is come from Wales and was much known for his charity and mortifications.
Then Saint Malo who came to Bretagne with Saint Brendon himself.
And the last, Saint Corentin, the first bishop of Cornouaille.
My lord told me that the large part of the saints have come from Britain. Perhaps they will have sympathies with me, who has come to Bretagne from France.