Friday, July 24, 2015

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Journeying Back

  I take this down as Brigid drives the cart through the summer road made of dried mud and grass. Not the easiest of rides but better than some other roads because there are fewer rock and sticks as well as no wraiths. However, I think I would much like the wraiths more than the stares, whispers and the outright unfriendliness that at times follow Brigid and me as alone we make our way through the occasional village or farming area with the phrase of "Mad Widow Gisborne" called out at times. This has left us fearful but we refuse to show our fear. If anything Brigid, who is dearer to me than any blood member of my clan, has become more protective of me. Considering her age I feel ashamed about making her feel like she needs to be in this position but she has been instant.

  It is after our latest encounter of whispers and taunts through a small village that has left us more frightened than our usual fare. While our horses and cart tried to get through the crowd and their village they threw food as well as taunted us. We looked straight ahead and did not flinch when some of the food hit us. We showed no fear. Now that we are a good distance away from the village and are trying to relax as best we can with talk of this and that and of animals and weather. Polite talk but mainly we drive on in silence. I would like to be able to ask Brigid why we are being treated in such a fashion but I do not for I know she will not have the answer any more than I. Maybe I do know the answer and wish to ignore it. The"Mad Widow Gisborne". I am no more mad than those that throw food at us. I wonder how others in so many different places know of my identity? Could the holy man traveled ahead of us and told people? I do not know and am not certain I would like to know the answer.

  Finally I take the reins from Brigid to drive the horses so she may rest. She fusses that driving horses and a cart is not the proper thing for a woman of my stature. I only shrug and softly laugh while gently reminding her I was not always a Lady. She gives me a look and snorts but says nothing else. so now I quietly drive the cart along the road keeping a mindful eye out for robbers and others that may wish to harm us, as the ever protective and vigilant Brigid not so quietly snores. At this I chuckle as the cart and horses move along on our journey back to Nottingham.