Wicked Weaves (34 page)
Authors: Joyce Lavene,Jim
I didn’t know if Ham was going to agree. There was a moment when he looked at Chase with the hammer in his hand and made me cringe. It would only take one hit from that instrument to cause terrible damage. How was I going to live with that guilt, especially if I was wrong?
But Ham put the hammer down on the forge and stepped back. He smiled at Chase, then took off running out the back of the smithy.
“What the hell?” Tony couldn’t believe it.
“Where are we going now?” Grigg demanded before he took off after him.
Chase ran with him, but Jah stayed with me. “I don’t believe this. He’d never hurt my mother.”
“Listen.” I stood still and tried to hear that scratching sound I’d heard earlier. With everyone silent, I heard it again. It sounded like it was coming from behind the storage panels. I ran to the first one and tried to open it. I looked up, and Tony was coming toward me with a crowbar.
“This is crazy,” Jah complained. “This isn’t happening. Nothing is behind there.”
He was right about the first panel. There was only some old gloves and blacksmith aprons stored there. The second panel came off easily, and there was nothing behind it.
“You see?” Jah scoffed. “You ran my uncle away for nothing.”
“Then why did he run?” Tony took the crowbar to the third panel.
The area behind the panels was a tight fit for the man who tumbled out as we removed the piece of wood. Abraham sprawled on the floor, covered in sawdust. He was alive but barely conscious. His fingernails were bloody from trying to escape from the storage area.
“Call 911,” I yelled at Jah. He stood there, not moving. He looked unable to grasp what he saw. I hit him hard in the arm. “Call 911! Get some paramedics here right now!”
But instead of doing what I told him to do, he started tearing at the storage panels like a madman, finally understanding that his mother was probably behind one of them. The only hope I had at that moment was that Abraham was still alive. Ham didn’t have time to do much to his sister.
Tony used the crowbar again and again to empty out the storage areas behind the panels, but there was no sign of Mary. Jah started screaming and fell on the floor.
She had to be here. I looked at the big pile of straw someone had almost tried to hide Ham in. He’d used that as a ruse before. Maybe he’d tried the same thing with her. He didn’t have much time to hide her. He knew we’d come when we missed her.
I fell on the straw and started brushing it away. It only took a moment to see her face. She was roughly bound and gagged. Jah ran up to help me untie her and get her off the floor while Tony went to find a phone.
By the time we’d helped Mary out of the straw, Chase, Grigg, and Roger were back with Ham between them.
Ham was crying, sobbing hysterically. He was barely walking, held up by the three men. “I never meant to hurt you, Mary. I didn’t want you to go back with Joshua and ruin both our lives. I didn’t think about the police accusing you of killing Joshua. You know I’d never hurt you.”
I sat down in the sawdust next to Jah, who was cradling his unconscious mother in his lap. The plan had worked after all ... it had just worked on the wrong person.
Mary and Abraham were fine, and Renaissance Faire Village recovered from the bad press it received. Ham confessed to the murder of his brother-in-law. Joshua had visited him before he’d gone to see Mary. Joshua had told him he wanted to bring his wife home and had accused Ham of keeping her away so long. Ham had only wanted things to go on as they had for the past ten years when he made the decision to kill the other man. He insisted he wouldn’t have killed Mary, only kept her away until Jah had left.
The police accepted Mary and Roger’s statement that they had been together in her apartment above Wicked Weaves when Joshua was killed. It wasn’t something I liked to think about, but it was a good alibi.
I sat with Mary on the back steps at Wicked Weaves the morning I left to go back to my normal life. She was humming and working on a fanning basket that was rich with multicolors of tawny bulrush and rusty pine needles. It was a work of art as unique and beautiful as any painting in any museum.
“You done good,” she commented on the ten baskets I was taking home with me. “I didn’t think you’d do it at the beginning. You surprised me, Jessie. A good surprise. I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” I started to hug her, but her dark face said that wasn’t allowed. “I’ll be back next summer. Maybe I’ll have a few more baskets and you can sell them for me.”
She made a noise from the back of her throat that I took to mean,
No way.
I laughed and told her I was only joking. “Is Jah back at school?”
No way.
I laughed and told her I was only joking. “Is Jah back at school?”
“Yeah. He left yesterday. But he’ll be back, too. He said to tell you good-bye.”
“I don’t think he liked me very much.”
“People never like folks who show them the hard truth about their lives. Finding out about Ham was a hard truth. I’m not giving up on him, either. The doctor says he can be well again. I’ll wait.”
I stood up to go, hoping to see Chase again. We’d said our good-byes last night and again this morning. I wanted to see his face one more time, but it didn’t seem to be in the cards. It was probably just as well. I already missed him more than I should have. This was going to be a hard summer to put behind me.
Mary and I said good-bye, and I picked up my backpack to leave. Roger, who’d become chummier in the past few weeks, said good-bye and told me he’d put my apprenticeship application on top of the pile. “Thanks. I think I’d be good at glass blowing.”
Mary made that sound again. “Except instead of bleeding all over, you’d be full of burns. I don’t think you’re cut out to do anything that involves fire, Jessie girl.”
I ignored her. I knew in my heart I was meant to be a glass blower. I was right about being a basket weaver. When you’re determined enough, not even a lot of pain can stop you.
Epilogue
It was the end of October. The weather was getting colder, which meant I was scrambling for sweaters. After the warmth of the summer, the autumn winds were too chilly.
Debby was in my second-year history class. We’d been sharing lunches as well as reminiscing about the summer at Renaissance Faire Village. She was texting Fred the Red Dragon, ignoring my sage advice about leaving him behind.
I was going to meet her with a thermos of soup in my hand as I walked across the campus of USC-C. I was having trouble with my advice about Chase. I thought about him a thousand times a day. Myrtle Beach wasn’t that far away. I could’ve driven down any weekend, but I held myself back. It would get better on its own.
There was a hint of rain in the air and piles of brown leaves on the ground. I walked across them, listening to them crunch under my feet. If I’d been a poet, I would’ve likened them to the brown crunchy thing my heart had become. I missed Chase. I wanted to be with him again. I wanted to forget my stupid rule about leaving the summer behind me. For the first time in five years, I wanted to wallow in my misery for the man I loved.
I heard someone call my name and turned, smiling. What I saw took my breath away and destroyed my thermos as it crashed on the sidewalk.
“How about lunch?” Chase was dressed in a black suit with a striped tie and a crisp white shirt. He was leaning against his shiny BMW as he opened the passenger door for me.
“What took you so long?”
Ye Village Crier
Greeting and salutations!
It is fall again and time for another Renaissance Faire Village newsletter! I had a great time learning to weave baskets with the help of master basket weaver Mary Shift. I created several of my own, wrought from sweetgrass, a plant that grows wild on the Southeast shore. It was a painful process, but I mastered it.
Basket weaving is the creation of any container made from vegetable fibers and formed into whatever shape you choose. It dates back at least 12,000 years, earlier than any pottery ever found. All of our ancestors, no matter where they were from, had basket weaving in common. They were used as tools of life: to carry eggs, fish, flowers, and bread. Baskets were even used as burial vessels.
Basket weavers like Mary Shift still gather many of their own materials. Supplies in some cases have grown short as development has displaced many native habitats. There are five types of basketry: coiled, as I learned this summer, uses primarily rushes and grasses; plaiting uses wider, flatter materials like palm or yucca; twining uses roots and tree bark to create baskets; wicker and splint, probably the best known, use reed, cane, and willow.
Basket weaving has never been duplicated. While many crafts can be made with machines today, baskets are still handmade. Most basket weaving techniques date back hundreds, if not thousands, of years and are still done much like they were by our ancestors.
My next apprenticeship at Renaissance Faire Village will be with Master Craftsman Roger Trent at his shop, the Glass Gryphon. Next summer, I’ll learn to make glass art.
Jessie
Little-Known Facts of the Renaissance
One question I am frequently asked by first-timers at Renaissance Faire Village: Why is there so much ale?
The answer to that lies in the Renaissance time itself. Most water was not filtered or purified, and many people bathed in it and let animals drink from it. What was left was used for the basest kind of sanitation. No one wanted to drink water and get sick.
So we at Renaissance Faire Village like to keep this tradition. Even the lowliest peasant could have small beer, a weak form of ale that probably tasted like warm dishwater. Full ale was only consumed at taverns and pubs with neighbors or on special occasions. Wine was only consumed by the wealthy lords and ladies.
Prosperous English peasants in the sixteenth century had a limited diet. They might eat two to three pounds of grain as bread or pottage, a few ounces of protein, and three pints of small beer per day.
The common grains to eat were rye, oats, and barley. There wasn’t much wheat. Meats were expensive and usually only appeared at special feasts.
Eggs, cheese, and vegetables were common. The peasants used herbs, onions, leeks, and garlic to season their food. Cabbage, turnips, parsnips, peas, and beans were also staples of the kitchen.
Fruit was available but scarce and always cooked.
A pottage or pudding was common fare for both peasants and wealthy lords and ladies. It could be made with oatmeal, cracked barley, rye, or wheat. It would be cooked with milk, honey, currants, and spices, a little like our hot cereal today.
A peasant would have made this pottage his entire meal, maybe once or twice a day. For a lord or lady, this would have been a side dish, accompanied by meat.
The language of the Renaissance was colorful and different than our language is today. If you plan to visit a Renaissance faire, you might want to consider changing your language as many of the residents do.
If not, at least you will be able to understand them!
Yes—aye: “Aye, that is a juicy apple!”
No—Nay: “Nay, I do not want cheese.”
You—thou or thee: “Thou art standing on my foot.”
Listen—hark: “Hark! Methinks a cart is approaching.”
Excuse me—I crave pardon: “I crave pardon for blundering onto your foot, sir.”
Please—I pray you or pray: “I pray you be gentle with my turkey leg.”
Wow or Cool!—marry! (A contraction of
by Saint Mary!
): “Marry! You handled that ax well, good sir!”
by Saint Mary!
): “Marry! You handled that ax well, good sir!”
Good-bye—fare thee well: “Fare thee well, my lady!”
The knighting ceremony was held at the age of twenty-one for any young man who had been a good page or squire and was hosted by a lord for the position. Becoming a knight was an important matter, accompanied by a ceremony and vows for the young man and a party for the entire village.
A candidate for knighthood knelt all night in prayer before the ceremony to prove his worth. In the morning, following a religious ceremony, a knight’s armor was buckled in place in front of whatever lords and ladies could be assembled. His sword was girded about his waist, and spurs were attached to his feet. He knelt to receive the pass upon his shoulder, which was dealt by his lord with the flat of his sword.
The ceremony was followed by jousts and other merriment to celebrate the occasion and test the new knight’s skill and bravery. Afterward, the knight rode out in quest of adventure to slay some evildoer or rescue a damsel in distress. His family was blessed by his fortitude and waited breathlessly to hear tales of his shining good deeds.
Ye Olde Recipe
BANBURY CAKES
These delicious little fruit-filled pastries were first mentioned in English text in 1586. They were originally sold in little baskets and wrapped in white cloths to keep them warm. The cakes have been made in Banbury since that time, inspiring poets to create sonnets for them. They are that good!
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