one day after Saint matthias
My lord takes Anne and me to Dinan this week. He must do business and it is said the duc de Bretagne may be in the city at this time.
Agnès says me that Anne must be found a husband before she becomes too old. I will give it thought.
This first night we lodged near the Val Sans Retour. It is said that the Fairy Morgane laid a spell on the vallée that he who has done wrong or has been faithless may enter, but never return. It is said also that if one finds the hidden lake while the moon still is shining, the reflection seen is of one he is destined to love.
This vallée I wished to see. And Anne also wished it.
My lord promised he would take us.
I replied to him that it was only worth the effort if seen at night.
He laughed and then declared it would be so.
We took with us the men, as brigandes are known to patrol the ways at night.
We rode to the vallée singing and talking and making much noise to warn of our strength and presence.
It was beautiful, this vallée, in the light of the moon and with the lake set into the cleft. We dismounted and bid the men watch our mounts, then we stood beside the lake, all the three, and found in it a reflection. A curious thing then happened.
What began as a reflection of three became a reflection of two. As we watched a wind stirred the waters and the reflection of Anne was slowly erased as the reflection of myself and my lord remained.
Anne ran weeping.
My lord stared at the reflections as if bewitched. He turned to me and made as if to speak, but then heard Anne cry and left me to follow her.
I stayed and watched my reflection and made note of another curiosity. My reflection aged me. I lifted a hand to touch my face, and the reflection also did, but it was not the same face.
Would that I look the same two or three years hence.
I waited for the return of my lord and Anne, but when they did not appear, I made a place for myself by a rock on the edge of the lake. I pulled my cloak around me and slept.
When I woke, my lord and Anne did not yet come again. I found the men and we mounted finally our horses and made the return to the inn.
two days after Saint Matthias
At day, the men of my lord made a search for him and found him, still at the vallée, and brought him back.
We stay here one more night which makes one night the less in Dinan.
I have heard from Agnès that my lord tried to find his way from the vallée but could not.
I demand of myself to whom he has done wrong.
four days after Saint Matthias
On the way to Dinan, we stopped at the Temple de Mars. Some people call this the Tour de Courseul and say it is the most ancient building in Bretagne.
A storm blew in and we were obliged to take shelter in the parish church nearby. I read tombstones to Anne. The most ancient I found looked Roman. It read: Consecrated to the god Manes. Silicia Namigidde who from Africa, her country, moved by an admirable tenderness for her son, followed him, rests in this place. She lived 65 years. Cneius Flavius Jannaris, her son, to her erected this tomb.
I demand of myself what it would be like to live 65 years. I suppose if one lived near those one loved, it might be satisfying. To leave a homeland for a son. Would I dare to do the same? If I did it for a husband, might I do it for a son?
My lord installed me first in my chamber, and then he installed Anne. I did not see the two of them until my lord passed to take me to dinner.
one day before Shrove Tuesday
We have come to Dinan this day. We mounted to the city through the vallée of the River Rance after having passed over a new bridge composed of four arches.
It is a powerful city with strong walls, a city rich from trade. We entered through the Porte du Guichet, with two towers flanking it and thick doors of wood. It looks as if it could withstand any assault. And near to it the donjon where we will rest these coming days.
There are many strange buildings made of stone and plaster, separated by lengths of timber. It seems an odd way to build and not nearly as strong as stone. Perhaps it is a fashion that shall pass in these next years.
My nose is assaulted by the smell of this place and the air is foul. As the wind blows always through these streets, the scent of the fishmongers and tanners comes by times to overtake us. Glad I am that Agnès has commanded me to travel with a sachet of spices. The mace invades my nostrils, leaving no room for the stench of the tanner.
I have pain in the ears from the noise of the city. At home, none speak but speak softly and none sings but songs of gladness. Here men cry in the streets and people shout from the windows and the horses and the carts make much noise.
I surprise myself by longing for the chateau.
Shrove Tuesday
My lord presented me to the duc de Bretagne, François II, which is not a grand thing, as I have already met the King of France. But this, duc has much power and I reminded myself of the position of my father and so I curtsied most deep and talked to him of pretty things.
Ash Wednesday
My lord came to tell me a story this night, but before he did it, I demanded of my lord where a husband for Anne might be found.
He demanded of me why one must be found.
I explained to him that Anne is old and it may be that next year few men will want her. And as he knows those at court it is possible he may inquire.
He demanded of me if Anne does not please me.
I told him that she does. That if Anne were not here that I would have no friend. That if it were to me, I would have her stay forever, but that this is too much to demand of her, for she would make someone a good wife.
He bid me to speak of this to Anne to discover what she will reply to me.
And the follow is the story that my lord told me: There was one time a King called Gradlon. He had great riches and a fleet of boats of war. There came a time when his sailors became fatigued from fighting in cold, strange lands. They left King Gradlon, took the boats, and returned to Bretagne.
The King was very sad, but felt a comforting presence. He looked up and saw a woman with hair red like a fox. It was Malgven, Queen of the North, who ruled the lands where it is always winter. She told the King that her husband was old and that if Gradlon helped her to kill him, then she would return with him to Bretagne.
They killed the husband of Malgven, took a chest filled with gold, and leapt onto Morvarc’h, the horse of Malgven. The horse made a path over the waves of the sea, galloping through the night, and delivered them to one of the boats of the king and they lived there a full year, on the sea.
And at this point here, I demanded of my lord how the horse Morvarc’h can be in two stories at the same time. I recalled to him that Morvarc’h also was the horse of King Marc’h who was killed by the hind he had chased.
And my lord replied to me that Morvarc’h is the magic horse of the sea who can gallop on water as well as on land. And then he made as if he would continue.
And I told him that even if Morvarc’h gallops on water it does not mean that he can be the horse of every king.
And my lord replied to me that perhaps it may not be so in Touraine, but in Bretagne these things are possible. And he continued with the story.
Malgven came to give birth to a girl child she named Dahut, and then became ill and died.
King Gradlon took his child and returned to Bretagne. The child grew to be more beautiful than her mother. The only pleasure of the king was his daughter, but the only pleasure of Dahut was the sea.
One day Dahut convinced her father to build her a city beside the sea. Thousands of workers labored to build the city. The city became the most beautiful of all the world. To keep the sea from engulfing it, a high dike was formed. It was closed and locked by a brass door; King Gradlon was the guardian of the key. The city was named Ys.
Ys soon became known for great feasting and mariners came from all over the world to take part in the revelry. But Dahut bored herself with these fêtes.
It came to be that each day she would choose from the men a favorite and place a black mask around his face. She would take the favorite into her bed and he would stay with her until the rising of the sun. At this point here, the mask would tighten, suffocate the favorite, and he would die. A rider on horseback would take the body from Dahut and throw it into the sea.
One day, a chevalier arrived in Ys. He was clothed in red. Although Dahut smiled and spoke to him, he did not respond. As evening approached, he at last consented to speak with her. She took him as her favorite and took him to her bed, but he would not wear the mask.
A storm rose from the sea and began to batter the walls of the city. The chevalier demanded of Dahut if there was not some way to open the door of the dike. Dahut explained to him her father kept always the key around his neck. The chevalier suggested to her that as her father. King Gradlon, was asleep, she could take the key from him without trouble.
Dahut this did.
Immediately, a wave washed over the chateau and woke King Gradlon. Dahut realized that the sea had pushed over the dike and that the only escape was on the horse Morvarc’h.
The King and Dahut mounted the horse, but the sea was too violent and the horse began to sink. Dahut cried for the king to save her. At this moment there, a lightning flashed and a voice called for King Gradlon to throw Dahut to the sea.
The voice was Saint Guénolé. He told the king that Dahut was being punished for the sins she had made Ys to commit. Saint Guénolé repeated for King Gradlon to throw his daughter to the sea. The waves had almost over risen the horse Morvarc’h, so the King pushed his daughter into the sea.
Immediately the horse mounted the waves, and reached the land, and delivered the king to Quimper, the city of seven hills.
All from Ys were drowned. It is said that when the sea is calm, if you stand on the shore, you can still hear the bells of the disappeared city ringing. My lord says me that Lutèce was formed on an island in the middle of the River Seine. It is called Paris because “Par Ys” in breton means “Like Ys.” One says that when Paris is engulfed by waters, then the city of Ys will re-emerge from the sea.
I told my lord that it is better to live a life of purity than to live in a wicked but beautiful city.
I told him also my secret, that I repeat Ave Marias each day that I might bear a strong son for him. I told him if he will come at night more often, then God will see and send a child.
He looked at me then and kissed me on the cheek.
I demand of myself what did Dahut do all night with her favorites?
Is it possible that they told each other stories? My lord has told me his stories are ancient. Perhaps they are the same that Dahut was told.
one day after Ash Wednesday
I demanded of Anne this morning if she does not want a husband.
She began to cry and prayed me not to turn her out of the door.
I began to cry also and promised that I inquired only after her happiness and that I would never send her away. Only if she would want a husband for herself
I promise myself to write to my father demanding of him if there is anyone in our family who will suit Anne. And I will keep his reply against the time when Anne will want to marry.
two days after Ash Wednesday
We visited la Cohue, the shops where we found materials and friperie for new robes for Anne.
Agnès says me that I should have at least as many as Anne and one more.
I told Agnès that the robes I have do well. It is only three years since I have come to Bretagne and my robes were all new at that moment there.
She says me that if Anne has new, that I must too.
I told her that if she desires it so strongly, then she must pick the materials and have done with it. And also that a more comfortable hat would please me.
I passed from the dressmaker to the bookseller.
This evening, Agnès showed me the materials she has bought for me. They please me. There are several good silks, one of which is the color of turquoise through which gold threads are woven. Another is the color of thrift.
She has bought also a velvet of green which reminds me of spring and a second velvet the color of lavender. And the last length is of fine wool the color of a ripe peach. For these, she found some furs of sable, for which I am pleased, as these have become rare. She has also squirrel and fox, and then some lengths of gold braid and of the most delicate lace from Bruges.
Tomorrow, we quit Dinan.
three days after Saint Grégoire
My lord made a gift to me of a trunk filled with books! They have cost a fortune. I know this as I have made note in the accounts, but they will keep me for the next year. I am blessed with good chance.
To Anne he made a gift of a collar of pearls. They show well against her high color.
Agnès shook her head as she saw this and says me later that better pearls to a wife than a cousin.
I told her it should please her that my lord knows I value books more highly than jewels.
day of Easter
The mystery was performed this day. And all did well, save for one man who had inversed several of the verses. I had thought I would wish that all would know that I had written it, but in the end, it did not matter. Much more important to watch the faces of the peasants as they listened to the play. To realize that they cared not who had created it, only that it had been created. It made no difference the color of a horse, or how many oars had been broken during a storm, only that God allowed a miracle to have taken place.
But my lord says me that he has much pride in his little comtesse, that she should create such a wonderful work.
And if he is the only one who knows this, then perhaps it is the only thing that must matter.
six days before Ascension
Agnès is angry. I have received my new robes this day from the materials she bought for me in Dinan. The colors please me, but the fashions please not Agnès. She says me that they are not of the styles the most current as Anne has had made.
The styles most current have a small difference of neck and a small difference of skirt. The underskirts of Anne have broderie of flowers and vines. Anne says me that this is because I am still young.
It makes the least of things to me. I care not.
But Agnès will not be calmed. She claims Anne conspires against me.
This I cannot believe.
two days before Saint Jean-Baptiste
My form has taken shape.
Agnès says me that I am as lovely a girl as she has seen.
My hair falls still to my waist. It still is golden and curls. My eyes are still gray, but my cheeks have become more sharp. My chin has become more pointed. My chest has more at the same time my waist has less.
I wish still the high color of Anne.
My skin is pale.
At least it is clear.
And I suppose that I can pinch my cheeks for color when I have need of it.
nine days before Sainte Marie-Madeleine
Apropos of my lord: his men respect him. I know it by the way they stand near to him, always ready to hear what he commands, to respond to what he demands of them. And why should they not? He is clever, I have seen this when he plays at chess.
He is strong, I have seen this when he plays at soules.
He is wise in money, for all in his house are cared for and his table is neither that of a miser nor that of a spendthrift.
He has also a temper, though it is rare when he shows it. It is kept in control by a clenching of his square jaw, but is betrayed by a glint in his dark brown eyes. And glad I am that I have never received his harsh words, for words such as those, he chooses very carefully so they cut into the heart and leave wounds as lethal as that of a knife.
The woman of Anne watches him. But for this, he cannot be blamed, for he is tall, he stands a head above his men, and he has the grace of a lynx. And the carriage of a mastiff.
He is well-wrought and well-thought.
three days after Sainte Anne
We have come to hear that King Charles VII is dead. May God guard his soul. He is disappeared the day of Sainte Marie-Madeleine from a long maladie. One first heard news of his troubles since three years.
Louis, his son, will be King.
My father will not be pleased.
Louis had been the cause of many problems for his father. He was not permitted to live in France since many years. Even now, he must come from the north, from the Low Country, to take the throne.
I find myself content to be living in Bretagne, for who can tell what this new King will make of France.
May the King live long.