Love Traders

(A tale from the journal of

Lucien the Poet)

By

Mike

Throughout the centuries and spanning all creeds, cultures and races, there have always been matchmakers. These are the people who trade in love. For the most part they were just messengers, chaperones and sometimes the drawers up of contracts between two lovers. In the background was one other and this was the poet or minstrel. Mainly unknown, this poet trod the well-worn paths from village to village, hamlet to hamlet where, should the need arise (and often it did) he would ply his trade. He would look upon the intended bride and learn much about her from those close to her. From this knowledge he would prepare and present his prose, his poem, to the intended bridegroom so that he (the bridegroom) may surprise and delight his bride in the wedding chamber. To continue, I will share a tale with you about one of these wandering poets

Lucien, son of Smith,; was educated and brought up by the local monks within the shire where he lived. He was chosen (and many were not) because he showed a desire to learn. As a child he was light of stature and build and his father knew he would never make a smithy and so he agreed to let his son learn letters and other things within the walls of the monastery. Of course a little silver in his hand helped make up his mind, for the monks had need of the boy. As he grew, he learned. He was not pampered and often toiled in the monks garden or fished, then helped to prepare the fat carp for the Friday meal. Lucien was a handsome boy and grew to some six feet of gangly youth who had a propensity towards words. While he worked the garden he could often be heard rhyming to himself and although some of the monks thought it unbecoming, they never discouraged or remonstrated with him for doing so. Then one day he asked to leave the monastery, for he was no brother and had taken no vows and his wish was to see more of this wondrous country. The father abbot although disappointed, agreed to his wish and set him on a course of worldly ways for six weeks before his departure. Lucien would make his way around the country and would keep a journal for when he returned, which he had every desire to do so. For his bread and ale he would read and write letters for all that needed the help and would only take enough to keep him in provisions and serviceable attire. The day came for his departure and a few gifts were afforded him. A strong sack with sewn pockets, some warm clothing and of course writing quills, ink, chalk and parchment. With thanks and love in his heart for the brothers all, he set forth, stopping briefly to bid farewell to his family and thus done he set to and began his journey. Through the many years and miles of his travels he had seen much and learned more and always he had noted in his journal for remembrance. Now, some more years hence, he found himself here, in the hamlet of South Woodham in the shire of Essex, the squireship of Sir William de Ferrers. He had been waylaid by the moaning of a youth that had sat by the side of the wagon trail that leads to the hamlet. He had stopped and enquired as to what was amiss. The tale was burst forth with such gusto that it fair frightened poor Lucien. The lad had been promised to a lass in the bigger hamlet of Basildon some four hours walk away. The youth was inconsolable because he had no love for this lass. Oh, he had met the lass and she was fair and comely but his heart was set on another and woe was on him from the day of his betrothal. Lucien listened and ignored the rumblings of his stomach (he had not eaten since he had broken his fast, some twelve hours ago). He knew from many experiences that the lad would be inconsolable and he sympathised with him. When at last, the lad stopped talking, Lucien suggested that they retreat to the local hostelry. Sadly the lad arose and bade Lucien to walk with him the two chains to the inn on the rise, which Lucien did. Once there the lad declined to enter and left, sadly and sullenly. Lucien entered and bade the innkeeper good day and then asked for ( and this was most unusual for him) bread and potatoes and a dish of roast mutton. It had been a busy week for him as there had been four weddings and a funeral ( Lucien did those very occasionally) in the parish of Brentwood and his services were needed by all as the local scribe was taken to is bed by the shivers. Thus, Lucien could afford a meat dish, which were few and far between. After his repast, he relaxed close to the fire and supped his second mug of ale. He was a little tired and would, more than likely have dozed off had not the door of the inn been banged open wide and a loud voice emitting the word ?scribe? been boomed forth around the inn. Lucien left his draught of ale on the table and answered the query. It appeared that the owner of the voice was the father of the betrothed lad and on hearing there was a poet abroad, came to seek his services. Or it was his wish the on the wedding night, his son would bedazzle his bride with a poem of her beauty. The two (Lucien and the father) sat and discussed terms and a contract was made. Lucien would travel by ox cart to the hamlet of Basildon the next morn and there would be introduced to the brides father and then set about the writing of the wedding poem. A fee well over the norm was offered, accepted and sealed with a fresh draught of mead no less, for both. Deciding that his fortune was indeed healthy, Lucien inquired as to as room for the night rather than sleep in the hedgerow. He also paid the extra farthing for the luxury of a hot tub of water for it had been awhile since his last bathe and scrape, though not having much of a beard he oft or not, let it grow. Thus, come the morning he left the inn, and boarded the waiting cart, breaking his fast with cheese and bread on the journey. Once there, Lucien was met by the intended brides? father and her description followed along with other titbits that were meant to help the poet. He was offered a resting and writing place in the barn and should the need be, he could also tarry and sleep there. Lucien accepted gratefully and ensconced himself thus.

It was late after noon when a wench disturbed his thoughts. She came into the barn with a basket to collect vegetables for the evening repast. It was certain that she did not know of Lucien's? occupation of the barn for she was quite taken aback and remonstrated with him for imposing himself so comfortably without so much as a by your leave. When once this wench stopped to breathe, Lucien explained that he had been invited and was to work for his lodge. Though he did not reveal what this work was just in case this beauty before him be the intended bride for he had not yet seen the lady in question. Lucien was struck with love but did not know it. It had never occurred to him, that in all his wanderings and services he had never met a wench that took his fancy. Now he felt strange and shy yet bold and imaginative. For the very first time there was a stirring in his body and a fear came over him. Of course he had been in such a state before but thought it natural, only this time he had no desire to answer the call of nature. The wench bade him good morrow and left leaving a thoughtful and worried Lucien in her wake. Lucien's? mind was filled with wondrous thoughts, poetry flowed like never before. He wrote parchment after parchment about the vision that disturbed him so but of his contract verse he had nothing to show. In his mind he could not sully the image of his new love by presenting the intended brides groom with a poem written for his comely wench. Thus so, he bent to his task and the candle was low to the stub by the time he had finished his paid task. The hour was one past the midnight but he felt no tiredness or more surprisingly, no hunger. Lucien made dark the candle and lay down upon his hay bed, hands under his head as he looked through the barn doors at the clear sky and to the myriad of stars in the heavens and he drifted into sleep. Came the morn Lucien presented himself at the break fast table and ate heartily. When his repast was done he declared to the father of the intended bride that his contract was fulfilled and that he would present the work at South Woodham that day. He declined a kind offer of an ox cart by declaring that such a fine day deserved a walk and thanking his host for the hospitality, bade good morrow and departed. His journey had but just begun when once again he espied the vision of loveliness of the day before, musing on a fallen log by the side of the marshland boundary. She seemed to be watching the sway of the bulrushes in the soft breeze that moved through the valley. Her hair, like the wind was soft and fresh. Her skin light and youthful. Her contours comely and stirring, which had set off once again the feelings that Lucien had felt the previous eve. Lucien moved his sack to his front, for his embarrassment was strong and on show for all to see. The wench noticed him and called hello and then expressed her sorrow at the way she had spoke to him before. They spoke for such a time, Lucien often reading and embellishing accounts from his journal to which the wench was enthralled at the stories he related but time takes away the joy when needs must and soon the wench departed, with regret, to attend her daily tasks. Lucien resumed his journey and used the time thoughtfully. On arrival at the inn, weary and slightly despondent, he took a draught of ale and resigned to the seat by the now extinguished fire and awaited his patron. The innkeeper?s son had been despatched to inform him of Lucien?s return. On his patrons arrival, the poem was presented, approved and his payment proffered and accepted with gratitude. Lucien received an invitation to join the wedding party and celebrations at the church this coming Sunday. With only a day to wait Lucien accepted gratefully for he had not the heart to travel for the moment and besides he may well cast his eyes yet again on the wench from Basildon. Staying once again at the inn that eve, Lucien had supped one or two draughts of ale more than was good for him and thus he was carried to his bedchamber and unceremoniously dumped on the bed by the innkeeper. Come the morn, Lucien felt so bad as he had never felt before and it was not only the effects of the ale he had supped. There was, inside of him, an ache. Something was missing in his life that he had not realised before. He took time to reflect on what it may be and the only answer was that he was in love. The emotion that he was forever writing about for others and had not experienced, until today, for himself. As the morning grew he recovered and as he dressed for the wedding ceremony, his thoughts strayed to Basildon. He made his way to the church early, hoping to gain a pew to the rear so he may slip away as soon as the deed was done but as he walked the path he saw anger and consternation among those gathered. The father of the intended groom was red faced and looked as though he was close to apoplexy. From bits of conversation that Lucien had over heard, it appeared that the intended groom had eloped with the one love of his life and that the intended bride was nearing the church ignorant of this fact. The father of the intended groom was facing scandal and ruin plus a hefty bill for recompense for there was a contract betwixt the two families. In due course the haywain, all covered with flowers and coloured cloth, arrived carrying the intended bride towards the church. Both fathers? met and such shouting and crying began. The jilted bride sat veiled on the haywain and any emotion that she felt as she was told of the elopement, was as such; hidden Lucien, who had set himself apart from the throng, felt both pity for the jilted bride and joy for the lovesick lad. As he sat on the church bench pondering on his next journey Lucien felt a presence beside him he turned and to his right he saw the wench from Basildon seated beside him. She was dressed all in white and a veil was resting on her crown of daisies. Lucien was shocked to discover that she had been the intended bride. Her lovely face showed no concern at being left at the alter and explained to Lucien that it had been an arrangement between the two fathers and not of her choice. She was also glad the intended groom had eloped and wished him well with his love. Also and brazenly so, she told Lucien that since their meeting she had come to realise that he (Lucien) had stolen her heart and that it was he that she had been waiting for when they met once again at the marsh. With a courage that he conjured from deep inside him, Lucien declared his own love to the wench and professed that he was ignorant of her name. She leaned forward to whisper it to him when her father came close and begged her to seem inconsolable as this would undoubtedly increase the recompense that was due for such a slight to the family and because the contract had been broken. Lucien jumped up from the bench and faced the jilted brides father and told him of the love he had for his daughter and begged for the hand thereto of his new love. The wench also spoke of her new love for Lucien to her father, who was stunned and consternated by these revelations. He was in a quandary torn betwixt his love for his daughter and her happiness and also of his love for gold. Meantime a crowd had gathered around and murmurs of pleas for consent for the jilted brides fathers blessing were cast as it was obvious to all that love was in effect betwixt the wench and the poet. The jilted brides father, amongst such pleadings at last relented and gave his consent to a joining of the two in matrimony. On that day in his twenty-sixth year of life, Lucien son of Smith married the love of his life, the wench from Basildon in the county of Essex and on that night Lucien delighted his bride in the wedding chamber with a poem of his making.

To My First Love Seen

Whence first saw I the vision of you

As I lay betwixt hay and corn

I saw only beauty and loveliness

And not the expression of scorn

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Without a word my heart leapt forth

I felt excited and suddenly shy

I saw your beauty but did not understand

About such were my feelings and why.

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That night my dreams were filled with your grace

Of sweet kisses and soft caress

I am touched by your voice and taken with your eyes

I feel humbled and somehow lost.

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?Twas later when I realised I was in love

Then my soul fell into despair

For I had lost all chance to tell you

Oh woe, life is so unfair.

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Thus now I write this addendum

For married were we, in a whirl

Thus you are my bride and I am filled with pride

Now it?s your name that I want. Please tell?

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Mike e-mail [email protected]

©1999