Dinan In Brittany
“Last night we moored down in the harbour…. We had a rough but short voyage across the channel and sailed up the mouth of the Rance just in time to catch a late supper.
I and my friends are on our way to Bordeaux so that we may pick up a cargo of wine for my Lord Salisbury. Not wanting to waste the outward trip we are selling some sheep to the farmers, here in Brittany. Our local Romney sheep feed on the salt marshes and farmers in Normandy and here in Brittany value them, so it was a no brainier for me.
My vessel is a simple three masted cargo caravel….I purchased her in Bristol two years ago for a fair price and she works well for me. We can run fast and she carries two hundred ewes… I’ll get a good price for them… a very very good price.
Walking up the steep hill that leads into Dinans town centre, I am assaulted by the sight, smell and sounds of humanity….. it always makes me wish that I were back on the sea with the fresh sea wind in face. This is a busy town. Merchants, traders, farmers and pilgrims are everywhere. I know to walk under the towns gates and head up to the abbey. There I will find my contact…the man who will purchase my sheep.
A merchant tries to sell me some of his sausages…andouille, he calls them. Made from intestines, they aren’t something I will indulge in today….but there is another trader selling some Breton cake. She calls it ‘far breton’ and I love it. Washed down with the local cider it makes a good breakfast.
I purchase and consume both, and then move on up the hill.
A soldier, probably a member of the towns militia, greets me as I steadfastly climb the cobbled street.
And there is the abbey. I walk across the courtyard that sits in front of its main gateway…. The great oaken and studded doors are closed but I spy a small bell in a recess to my left… I ring it”