Interregnum Ch. 01

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Odo the peasant and the loss of his virginity.
13.4k words
4.32
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Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 10/08/2016
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Chapter 1: The village of Trevby

Along came the crack of dawn, where sunlight peered through the sky, awakening with the gleam of red like blood across the horizon.

Odo, being that he was nineteen years of age was thoroughly accustomed to the ritual of dressing up first thing in the morning, instinctually reaching out blindly for his braies, those baggy undergarments of a beige-white hue and not a year old with a gusset of hemp sewn along the bias and the legs that were of linen, Odo knew this best because he had sewn them himself from the scrap of what Narla had left over from the fabric she used to make her own dress, it was a frugal life they lived, not desperately poor but not rich either. They were hanging up on a rope line, his eyes closed still in sleep-hunger. The braies were hung up on the same rope line that held up banners of plain cloth, providing Odo a space of privacy around his rush-lined bed. There was a pillow made of hempen fabric filled in with straw and the slight scent of fleabane and lavender pervaded his private space, it being a preventative measure to ensure that no fleas would stay on his clothing or his person.

Odo placed the braies through the legs and up to over his groin, tying the drawstring and affixing the garment tightly round the waist. There were two drooped loops of lace hanging off to the side. These were for tying up his hose to his legs to make them stay up under tension.

Braies worn, Odo reached for the ground to reclaim his light yellow hose. Odo twice adjusted them up to his thighs, making sure all the while that the stitched side ran in-line with the back of his thigh.

Odo drew out the drawstring hanging from his braies and pointed them through the holes at the top of his hose, attaching the drawstring of his braies to his hose, tying it taut in a knotted loop, straining his eyes as he did this process in the dark. The hose encompassed the whole of his feet and stuck tightly to Odo's thighs.

Odo lifted himself from his bed before reaching for his white linen undershirt. Odo pulled his head through the hole before finding and putting his arms through the armholes.

The smell of sweat marred the fabric, and Odo knew that it would have to visit the washerwoman soon, the 'bad air' was a great threat to any man in the kingdom, and bad smells always preceded the disease, or so the wise and learned men of the east had said.

Odo reached out for his cote, and repeated the same process as he did with his undershirt. His light blue woollen tunic remained slightly fuzzy even through the years that it had been worn.

The woollen tunic was rarely washed, but when it was, it was washed with tallow soap alongside water that was without ash or lime, to best preserve the dye that had already partly faded. Good-staying blue dye was expensive to obtain but thankfully there was a source of woad which grew locally in a neighbouring village, and if one was enterprising and careful, a few heaping bunches or even a bucket load could be stolen from the nearby village, though one had to be careful to hide it well from the authorities.

Odo reached for his woollen belt which he tied around his lower belly, leaving the excess amount of belt to fall down to his upper thigh in a decorative way. Odo tied his white linen coif around his chin, keeping his hair held back. To finish, Odo grabbed his straw hat which was hanging off a wooden peg on the side of the wall.

Fully dressed, Odo retrieved his bill, an expensive acquisition well worth the cost of a year's labour, or thereabouts.

Odo took it upon himself to cut down branches to be used in the oven and the fireplace. Any hazel or ash poles that Odo could find and cut could also be sold for a small side profit.

Deep into the morning, Odo apprenticed to the local woodsman who also worked as a carpenter. It was he who taught Odo a trade. Sometimes he also paid on a good job but doing bad earned you harsh words and the promise of docked pay.

The nearby forest was owned by Sir Reginald Osprey. Reginald Osprey was fief-lord of nearby Drarby and thus owned the forests and plots of land near it.

Odo, as a tenant of Trevby, was granted the right to coppice trees and fetch 'small things', tiny branches and such, from the common lands and the nearby forest. It would be a bad distinction if Odo was found carrying wood that exceeded a 'small' size, the crime to be paid with a stiff fine plus a beating from said offending sticks, as the different thickness of wood determined if they were timber or not. Timber was a valuable commodity for the fief-lords of the land, and rich nobles don't like having potential money sources drained away. Odo didn't want a beating or a fine, so Odo always stuck to the law that was told to him.

Remembering more, Odo reminded himself why it was a bad idea to defy the law because it was said that Reginald Osprey was a stickler to harsh punishment. People caught killing his deer had eyes plucked out, and even one man, a repeated offender of differing crimes had his penis removed and nailed to a tree for all to see. That man was then tied up to a ladder and beaten to death by a team of men armed with cudgels, his bruised and mangled body left hung up for two weeks afterwards. "You shall defile my lands no more, foul knave, for you have no cock to bugger me with!" Reginald was said to have shouted.

Odo didn't know if it was truth or exaggerated tavern-tale, but it certainly sounded like something that could happen. Odo would count the threat of execution as a great incentive to keeping within the law, whenever he was able to.

It was hard enough that Rolf and the before-reeves paid Odo a pittance for being an orc. It was even worse that his mother earned far less being both an orc and a woman. Narla was a self-made baker, but she could scarcely afford to pay for cribble. Odo noticed Narla's absence on some nights, where he knew she went off to the quern stone to grind her own flour without permission of Martin the miller.

About two or so hours later with two great big shoulders full of branches, Odo decided that it was time to return home. Tied up on his back were three bundles holding poles and kindling and Odo's bill was hanging secured around his belt.

Everything was going fine until Odo heard a commotion up above on the hill near the common-lands.

"Oi, you little shit! stop climbin' through my trees this instant or I'll give you a beating with my waster."

That was the voice of Tommet, owner of the only orchard in the village. It was now a stark field of trees with spindly branches. But, with the right season being Autumn, it grows resplendent with an abundance of pears, enough to fill several barrels worth perhaps... though good luck keeping them fresh. Trevby traditionally pickled the pears in vinegar with cabbage and sold them to neighbouring regions for a profit.

"A pear moulds not a day from the tree." Or so Aegar the 'fine-lipped', one of the village elder's would say. It was not necessarily factual, but the gist was true indeed, for pears went fast in the season.

From the harsh tenor of Tommet's voice, Odo could tell that someone had the bright idea of trespassing through his orchard.

Not too long after, Odo heard scuffling before he felt something brushing past his leg, followed by the appearance of a small tan dyed cote, red hosen and swinging blonde hair. Odo recognised the child as being Johnathon Finnly, whose father was Martin Finnly, the village miller. The boy's mother was Margery Finnly, who worked as a washerwoman, and was known as being the strong-arm of the marriage. A most heinous and cruel woman, when she means to be.

"That's the cursed miller's boy, ain't it?"

Odo canted his head to see the high-cheeked, heavily bearded face of Tommet, or 'two trees' as the village knew him. The nickname was either due to the fact that Tommet owned an orchard, or maybe the branch-like appearance of his moustache, or possibly just from his large size compared to humans, since Tommet came up to Odo's nose in height.

Odo felt like a giant among ants sometimes, he was the tallest in the whole village, and so was his mother.

Odo sighed for a moment before finally speaking. "Yes, that was Johnathon I think. If his mother finds out he will be in for a hiding."

Tommet sighed at that. "Yes, and well deserved; I cannot have him 'round my pear trees again. Going through my orchard is risky and rightly so, you can get killed this way."

Odo thought back to that particular law. If he remembered correctly, the crime of tree picking was worth four and a half silver pennies or so. At least the kid didn't have the bright idea of snipping off orchard branches, which carried the penalty of a harsh flogging, a staunch fine and sometimes a death sentence depending on how malicious the intent was. After all, neighbouring villages were known to hack down their opponent's fruit trees in order to reduce the produce that the other village could make whilst increasing the wealth of their own village. It happened many times, and Sheriff's took men away and hacked their limbs and sent them back as useless as the very tree's they cut.

Odo spoke out in outrage at the thought of it. In Odo's eyes, stealing was a great crime, but men who resorted to branch-cutting were deserving only of death.

"Only petty thieves steal branches, Tommet. At the very least the ones who pick and steal the fruit from the orchard do so for their families, or perhaps out of desperation of others. Those who cut the branches are rotten bastards that do so for the spite of it, taking the branches, and they all ought to be gelded and strangled for it."

Tommet looked Odo up and down for a moment before opening his mouth to speak but paused himself for a second. Tommet took about three seconds longer before speaking.

"How is you, Odo."

Odo sighed before giving breath to his plight.

"The long winter... it'll mean a short spring and perhaps a long summer. All I ever think about is ensuring that we have enough grown into harvest for autumn to sell in order to get more seed and livestock if we can afford it. That is of course after the 'set-aside' is grown in and given to the lord as payment for dues owed to the land."

Tommet frowned, remembering how bad that year's winter was. Thinking of a way to brighten up the situation, Tommet looked to the tip of his right index finger, held it out to Odo, and laughed boisterously.

"Oh fair maid Avice, how my finger ached that day. You have three geese, Odo, some have none."

Odo realised that Tommet was talking about the three geese that he and his mother owned. There was Avice, who was nicknamed 'maid' Avice in a cruel jest, for she was the opposite of a fair maid, she was always the first to charge and bite and even Odo was afraid to be near her. Avice could be easily recognised by her slightly crooked right foot.

There was also Beatrice, who was the calmer of the three geese, and easiest to prod and to work with. The third goose was Rosaline, who was known as 'Princess' Rosaline by Odo, for she was always the one who Gawk-gawk-gawk-gawked for attention in the night.

Tommet lowered his hand down to grip at his belt and then continued to speak.

"You have three raucous geese in a coup and if I hadn't known better; I would think that your mother might be a bad influence on those Geese!"

Odo laughed, Tommet's positive personality was a great contrast to Odo's own.

A cold wind blew through at that moment, and the feeling of cool across Odo's face reminded him of the coldness of the hearth that he was supposed to be attending.

"I must be off Tommet, I've a fire to start... and cold hands to warm."

Odo turned around and began upon his way to return home, Tommet looking all the while at the back of Odo.

Tommet was about to turn and return back home himself, but suddenly remembered that today was the day of 'Winters end'.

"Odo!"

Odo turned his head, looking towards Tommet with slightly fearful eyes... he was wondering if he had done something wrong.

"Winters end to you, Odo!"

Odo heard the words shouted out from Tommet, then admonished himself mentally for not realising that today was the beginning of 'Winter's end', a two-day long festival in which the stored up winter stock was cooked and served to everyone in the local tavern. It was customary that women of a household bring their own dish to be appraised and tasted. There would also be the usual choosing of the village ruckus-maker, who would make trouble for everybody outside the tavern, in a light-hearted jest of course.

Odo turned back to face Tommet before he shouted out tersely in reply. "Winters end to you Tommet. Will you be at the tavern later?"

Tommet turned around before grinning. "I will because I plan to win. My wife's cooking can tempt the divine himself. I used to be as straight at a ladder, now I am round at the belly..." Tommet began to gesticulate with his hands around his belly, to emphasise his point. "All my wife's doing I tell ya!"

Odo began to leave past Tommet's orchard, every once and awhile jumping over a willow fence, sheep baa-ed in annoyance, and goats took to flight with his passing.

Once Odo reached the particular divot in the landscape, he knew he had reached Ordan's dip as it was known, which was rich with clay. Near Ordan's dip was a small clearing and to the right of the clearing was an abundance of coppiced trees.

Odo knew that he had found the correct way to the village road, as the path was roughly twenty paces to the left of Ordan's dip. Odo walked his way through the pathway for roughly ten minutes.

Odo passed through two village men while he was on the path to the village. They were Ralf the shoer and Alfan 'Long needle'. Ralf was a blacksmith and a farrier, while Alfan was a tailor who made quality linen and hemp clothing and goods for a heavy-handed price. Odo remarked about needing a new shirt, and asked for an estimation of the cost, Alfan of which set the price at roughly a shilling, a vast sum on something so small on Odo's budget, but by Odo's eyes, it was worth every coin, Alfan's work was well regarded, not only in the village of Trevby, but also in neighbouring villages.

Odo engaged in a light conversation with the two as Odo passed on his way through the light dirt path, every step bringing him closer to home.

Upon reaching the central hub of the village, Odo met some well-wishers, Dru, Gale, Herve, Merry, Margot, and Ava whom all said: "Winters end to you.". To which Odo replied back the same with "Winters end to you."

The rest were quiet with tasks or otherwise did not speak to Odo due to his being an orc.

There was an elderly woman who was spinning yarn with a spindle, whom upon seeing Odo, spat at the ground and frowned harshly, her face was disapproving and hostile.

Odo knew her as Lady Agne, respectable to all but to himself and to his mother, Narla. Odo did not know how such a kind lady to the human folk could turn into such a vicious crone upon looking at him. Odo looked down to the ground.

Odo's day, while still bright, was now burdened more than it once was.

One time, Odo remembered over a fire in his house a few years ago, back when Eric still lived. Eric had told him that Agne had lost one of her husband's to a Calsadonian warband lead by orcs. Odo could understand her hatred, and Odo respectfully shunned himself from meeting with Agne whenever it was possible.

It took several minutes more of walking before Odo arrived about fifty steps shy of his house. Odo had no idea how his mother came to afford such a house, but Odo wasn't going to question his mother.

On the question of money, Odo had noticed that his mother always got a little on edge when it came up in any conversation.

Odo was mystified just as much by his mother's life as he was with the lands around, and of the nature of the world and the universe, of the stars in the sky and how it all came to be. She was an unbreakable egg with a stick to match. She was someone that you tried to crack through idle questions and other subtleties, and instead she smacked your hands with a stick. She could never break, she is as strong as stone and as frigid as the cold in winter.

Odo turned to gaze briefly at the house, inspecting it. It was not the greatest of houses, but it was large enough and had an oven out towards the right end, separated from the house by a yard and storage shed to prevent the risk of fire spreading to the house. The house did see some attendance by people wishing to use the oven, it even brought in well-needed money, but it also meant that Odo got exposure to the village growing up. As a child, those people viewed him and his mother first with grimace, then with reluctance, and finally something approaching acceptance. Even Thomas was much the same. Aelith was a different story, of all the village children Aelith was the most accepting.

The risk of fire was always a prevalent fear in the house. The floor was made of compacted rushes, thrown away with every new year and replaced with new ones. The entrance and main hall had a hempen mat lined above the rushes. The mat was browned not through dying, but through use and age, and developed many creases.

The lower walls of the house were made of cobbled stones fixed in place by a light mortar, but the upper reaches were made of wood, wattle, and a patchy daub. The roof was made of three parts new thatch to that of one part of older thatch which was more brownish in colour. The result was an interesting intermingling of colours that felt very humble and homely.

The house may not have been a lordly property nor was it a reeve's house but it could certainly compete with a city labourer's apartment, not that he had seen one before.

Odo's gaze then shifted to the oak tree near the house and reminded Odo of the younger days of his childhood. Odo used to climb up that tree every once and awhile to escape life, of course, his mother would find him and beat him down with a broom to get him off and working whenever she noticed his absence. Odo chuckled to himself at that memory.

The tree brought back further images of his childhood.

Of the village children were the Strathen twins John Strathen and William Strathen, who delighted in making fun of Odo. Then there was Hugh Lund, who felt the need to throw rocks at Odo every once and a while, and then there was Aelith who felt the need to run in fear. Thereby Aelith was the most accepting of the village children.

There was Eric as well, but he died in the winter of 1189. Eric was the village comedian, and his loss was missed not only among the village boys but by Odo as well. There had been an intense friendship between Odo and Eric, and Odo still missed him sourly.

Odo remembered the one time when he stated if Narla's nose was thrown in a kettle. His mother's face scrounged up in anger... but she then giggled to herself at Eric's cheeky face. Narla had served pork snout with a pottage of hyssop, nettle, and savory on that day. To this day, it was Odo's most memorable meal, because of Eric.

Odo sighed, he missed Eric and his antics all the time, from farting to sticking fish-glue in girl's hair to singing rude stories about what he would do to the village women. Odo even remembered the time when he smothered Odo's tunic with fish glue while he was sleeping around the hearth. Odo delighted in making Eric pay with a bruised lip and cheek.

It was heartrending to think that such a funny, bright person was now deep in the ground, though Odo knew that Eric would be up above in the clouds, watching down below.

There was also Darcy, though he died of the fever at the age of 12, which was in 1186. Not many people remembered Darcy, he was taken in by the monks at a young age and thus not many saw him that often anyway.

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