Ascent

Easter Sunday, April 12th, AD 890
Bayeux, Neustria, Kingdom of the West Franks

Poppa wriggled her toes. They’d become numb inside her tightly laced boots during the endless sermon that followed the earlier procession across town. Keeping still for so long was simply not for her. Around her, the congregation stood in silence; people kept their gaze downcast, as if contemplating the Father Peter’s words. But none of them understood a word, and she forced herself to hold back a giggle when she heard the odd snore. Now, she sighed again as Father Peter droned on in Latin. Only recently had Poppa begun her lessons in the dead language, and on the rare occasion when she recognised a word, it gave her no inkling of what the priest was talking about. Obviously, he was reading from the Holy Scriptures, and it must be something important. But if there was indeed a message in his ramblings, its meaning escaped her.
The celebration of the Easter feast – the most important event of the Christian year – was always a solemn occasion, as befitted Christ’s death and resurrection. She knew that. But after the third of the nine Kyrie Eleisons that opened the mass, Poppa’s thoughts had begun to drift. Like everyone else, she recited and intoned when prompted, but she much rather wanted to meet with her friend, Landina, by the water mill on the edge of town. The stream and the meadows were like heaven, unlike this crowded church where not even the cloying incense could not hide the stench of so many unwashed bodies.
Where were they, anyway? She cast glances to either side of her, but saw neither her friends nor their father, the miller. Perhaps they were behind her. Briefly, she considered turning around, but Father’s rigid stance changed her mind. Huffing, she shifted her weight to the other foot and winced at the tingling in her toes.
“Shh!” Father sent her a dark glance through lowered eyelids. He took sermons seriously, and his strong faith was the main reason she studied boring Latin with Father Peter.
Poppa knew Father was in part fulfilling Mother’s dying wish by providing her with a religious education. Mother had wanted for her to join a convent. But Poppa also knew that she – as the only daughter of Count Bérengar of Bayeux – would soon become an important marriage pawn. The notion filled her with trepidation. On her fourteenth birthday, Father broached the subject for the first time, indicating there were several potential suitors for her in mind. She’d been praying Ranulf was amongst them, but his family were far below her own in station. Her hopes faltered, even though Father had promised to heed her opinion.
He indulged her, that was all. Then he would follow through with his plans. Much to her annoyance, he’d mentioned names of several men at the Frankish court. Men or boys of noble birth, all of them. Resigned, Poppa’s heart had sunk.
Her childish snort at his pledge was drowned out by a loud “Alleluia!” from the gathered crowd. Swiftly, she followed Father’s lead and crossed herself, else he would chide her for her straying mind.
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