Cuthbert Is Punting Over To Me.
‘Hello Cuthbert!…’ I shouted.
My voice echoed across the reed beds. He looked up and waved back at me.
Herons and egrets circled above and the eels were flopping around in the shallow muds.
My wife awaits me as I have just returned from the great abbey….. the news is wonderful Edmund ‘Ironsides’ is to be crowned king and it will happen in Glastonbury. We will enjoy the day away from our toils and go and celebrate on that day!
This morning the abbot was feeling generous, methinks. His bursar gave me a good price for my eels and it means that we shall eat well this month. I hope he stays in a generous mood as my wife will be taking the newly cut reed sheaves to market at the end of the week….. they are stacked and drying in the marshes already… With the income from those we will see out the Winter.
Aaaahhh…. Cuthbert is punting over to me. I wonder what his news is.
Well, my day has soured. Cuthbert has been summoned to our lord the Abbott. He and six others from our village have been conscripted into the fyrd. The Danes are ravaging Dorset and Gloucestershire…..the word is that they are heading towards us and we must fight.
I am thankful that I have not been summoned…Ethel my wife would be most upset, and I fear her more than the Vikings.
My afternoon is spent pleasantly. The mud flies buzz harmlessly around me and the salty, brackish waters lap amongst the reed beds. I watch the smoke rise from our village fires and I can smell the bread being baked in our ovens.
In the distance, the women are busy washing our clothes and gathering the apples from our trees up on the hammock. They sing as they work!
I pluck a handful of sloes and pop them into my mouth, one at a time. Making a mental note to return to this spot upon the morrow as we need to gather a supply of sloes so that we can make the colouring needed for our Winter garments.
I punt up to our home….. Ethel awaits me.
Oh dear!
Next to her is an officer of the Abbott.