Set in 14th century, rural England, this is the second book of the Meonbridge Chronicles. Like the first it’s set in fictitious Meonbridge, a few years after the Black Death passed through Europe, wiping out large segments of populations and leaving rural England with a shortage of labour. You would think that at such a time women might be employed to fill the gaps, but according to this book that was not the case.
There are several protagonists, all women. They are married with children, with the exception of Eleanor. They are ambitious to improve their ‘lot’ but are stumped by their men. Agnes wants to do woodwork, but her husband holds her back. Henry Miller doesn’t even want his wife to set foot in the mill. Eleanor is looked on with suspicion because she has the audacity to own a flock of sheep without a husband to control her. Attitudes are polarised, particularly among the men when a woman is tried for bashing her husband with a cooking pot. She is subjected to the ordeal, banned a century earlier (as the author notes) and survives. The women aren’t sympathetic because she is a scold. But when another woman is accused of murdering her husband, admittedly on little evidence, they are caring and supportive. In a similar vein, there is a sheep-stealing incident at the beginning of the book. One of the perpetrators is 21 years-old and viewed as a troublemaker, the other an 11 year-old who is ‘simple’ and easily led. The village is sympathetic to one but not the other, who is subjected to the full rigours of the law: loss of a hand.
The charm of this book lies in the characters. They are so ordinary, and I mean that in the best possible way. They are your neighbours, your friends, facing very different circumstances, of course. There are the good and the bad. They gossip about each other and support each other. They have their dreams, frustrations, disappointments, prejudices, joys and sorrows just as we do. They face the challenges life throws at them with varying degrees of success.
I have one little grumble. I realise the author was trying to maintain the ‘voice’ of the characters throughout the narrative, but I found the use of the contraction ‘d, as in Ralph’d said, instead of had or even would, a little irritating. Also, the phrase ‘so many fewer’ jarred me. It is an oxymoron
That apart, the book is a thoroughly enjoyable slice of 14th century life, and I hope there are many more tales to be told of the folks of Meonbridge.
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DIGGING INTO THE PAST 