my thirteenth year
year thirty-seven of the reign of Charles VII, King of France
one day before Saint Dominique
I am Alix de Montôt. I have thirteen years. I am the only child of the first wife of my father. I was left motherless at two years. My father has been married these seven years to Hélène, his second wife. She has had three children. Sons.
But I am the one who was taught the magic of letters by the hand of my father. I am the one to whom he chose to reveal the mystery of numbers. I was betrothed at birth to honor an ancient promise my before-before-grandfather made during the Crusade.
It was said between he and the comte de Barenton, his companion in battle, that their offspring should marry. For two hundred years, the families have had only boys. I am the first chance that the promise can be kept.
And fortunate for my father. After these years of strife between France and the duchy of Bretagne, and France and England, it is a wise match; I am promised to a Breton. If Bretagne turns to England as some say she will, or if Bretagne turns to France, as the king wishes, there will be ties of marriage to Bretagne through me. And father will profit from it. This he has explained to me.
I understand my value.
I am to be fiancéed next month.
one day before Saint Matthieu
My fiançailles will take place tomorrow. I am to marry Awen de Kertanuan, comte de Barenton. He is Breton and so he must be rich from trading by sea.
Agnès, my woman, says me that I shall always have beautiful gowns and will wear only blue and gold.
He has thirty years, which is very old, but I shall be glad if he has still his teeth.
day of Saint Matthieu
My fiançailles took place today. I wore an houppelande of leaf green and lined within and without by fur of gray squirrel. It ceintured about my waist with a length of willow green velvet fastened with a green jasper. Hélène says me that this is to symbolize my faithfulness in fulfilling the ancient promise of my family.
I have been told that my lord does not live near the sea. He is inland, south of Dinan. My lord is dark, as Agnès says me that Bretons are. He is more tall than father and he has his teeth, of which I am glad. And they are still white. I did not speak to him, but as a gift of our fiançailles, he gave me a chest which is studded with nails. And inside a crucifix cloisonné and threaded with gold. I should rather have liked a necklace of gold, but Agnès says me that the gift is very pretty.
The trunk at least is practical. I can place in it this journal, with room for many more.
one day after Saint Matthieu
I spoke with the comte today. I curtsied and said, “My Lord,” in the pretty way I had been taught to do. He said nothing for so long that I rose.
He looked at me so strangely. Then he gave me his hand and drew me near. He touched my face and says me that he had once a sister my age. He spoke it so quietly I could hardly hear him. He seemed to me sad.
I demanded of him if she had been gay.
He smiled and replied to me that she had been quite gay. He looks kind when he smiles.
two days after Saint Matthieu
My lord left today. Hélène says me that I shall join him when I become grown.
five days before Saint Dionysius
Something happened today. My insides started falling out. I screamed and would not be quiet until Agnès had come.
Agnès told Hélène what was happening.
Hélène had fear. I heard her tell Agnès that this means I must leave soon.
two days before Saint Martin
I am being sent to my lord, the comte.
My father says me that I must go. He will give me Agnès.
I do not know how to speak the language of Bretagne. I do not know the people. I feel myself alone. I begged father to let me stay, but he replied to me that he is bound by the contract of fiançailles.
four days after Saint Martin
I spend this week in preparation.
day of Sainte Cécile
Father has given me a present of the most valued possession of my mother. It is a small circular baton made of leather. Twelve jewels the color of violets ring the top. There is a curious ‘N’ inscribed on front with a curved line set on top of it. I shall treasure it always. He has given me also the Book of Days of my mother. I had not before seen it, though my father says me that she read it each day.
From himself he gives me the books of King René d’Anjou, the brother of the King of France. These are the Livre du Cuer d’Amour, Espris, and Mortiffiement de Vaine Plaisance and these please me.
Agnès recounts me still stories of the Emprise de la Joyous Garde at Saumur, the famous tournament of King René. This happened before I am born, but my mother went to see it and Agnès says me that she was more beautiful even than Isabel d’Anjou, the wife of King René.
I have seen, from not so far away, Jeanne de Laval, the present wife of King René. They tell me she is Breton. She is pleasant, but I have heard it said that she is not so gay as Isabel. Perhaps it is because she misses Bretagne the way I shall miss France.
two days after Sainte Cécile
I am sent away. At least I have been given Agnès. She was the woman of my mother, and now she is mine.
We passed by Chinon and I could not stop my tears. Will I never again see the chateau, which projects so mightily from river Vienne? Will I never again walk its infinite length, never visit the home of Richard the Lion-Heart or imagine the persuasion of Jeanne d’Arc on Charles VII against the English?
Chinon is my heart. Touraine is my country. I wish for no other.
two days before Saint Andrew
There has been little time to write these five days. We passed by Saumur. I wished to stop and demand of Jeanne de Laval would she go to Bretagne in my place. We stayed the night before at Chateau de Montsoreau after having passed the Abbaye de Fontevraud where Richard the Lion-Heart and his mother and his father lie entombed. The chateau is all new. The square towers are more like Saumur than Chinon. It is much less big than the both.
We crossed the river Loire the next morning. We lodged at the Chateau de Treves.
This next night we stayed at St. Remy la Varenne.
And now we have gained Angers.
I have never seen a chateau so formidable. It is immense. And outside it is striped by stones of lighter colors. The towers cannot be called well-portioned or graceful and the ramparts are low and ugly. Inside I changed my mind. This is the place of birth of King René. How could it not be pleasing? There are many gardens, pavilions, and galleries. Had it not been so cold, I might have made a promenade about the grounds.
Would that I could stay forever in this city of books and songs and learning.
Time presses. My lord awaits.
four days before Saint Nicolas
Angers is but a memory.
These days between Angers and Chateaugiron are difficult. The more long my journey, the more strange the countryside appears. I miss being able to see the land. And the river. There is nothing here but trees. And more trees. They press themselves up to the road and I cannot breathe.
The songs of the birds are strange. Even the sky, when I can see it, appears different.
three days before Saint Nicolas
My jennet enervates me. She has no mind, only following the palfrey of the man of my father, who rides first. She is too quick and too eager to finish this journey. This means that for every step of the palfrey, she takes two. My brain is so shaken by her gait that it is numb. I can no longer think. The trees, the hills, the road, the villages pass. And ten minutes later, I cannot remember what it is that I have seen. I am become dull.
two days before Saint Nicolas
I have gained Bretagne.
Agnès says me that I am blessed by fortune to be married into the line of Barenton.
I have only thoughts of returning to Chinon. My soft, gentle country.
I do not like it here.
one day before Saint Nicolas
We gain Chateaugiron. The man of my father says me that it is one of the nine great baronies of Bretagne. The chateau is being restored, and so we pass by. It pleases me, with round, tall towers made of stone from the countryside.
Perhaps one day I will come back here and visit with my lord.
I hope my chateau will look the same.
day of Saint Nicolas
This night we lodge at Rennes. We entered through the stout Portes de Mordelaises. Passing between the two squat, round towers, I felt as if I were being swallowed up by the country of Bretagne. My jennet fought for rein to move forward and into the city.
I have been met by the man of my lord, the comte. From here he rides with us.
one day after Saint Nicolas
This day we passed the river Ille and many millers, launderers, and tanners who do work upon the banks. This night I am told we are two days ride from Chateau de Kertanuan.