My sister, Agnes, is getting married next
week. We are both happy and excited, but
I don’t know whether her young man has the nerves yet. John never gives much away, such a straight
face he has. It comes from working at
the market and holding out for the best price for livestock. His stone face, he calls it.
We have the plans in place and father agreed we
can bathe tonight, so it will only be eight days between bath and marriage. Eight days.
How our friends will talk. Only
the King has such a short time. His
highness wouldn’t have any extra baths of course; one per year is enough for
anyone. If he did have a second bath,
say as winter comes on, all his subjects would need to save for the extra
water. The King would rather take that
money in tax instead.
Father will bathe first and even though mother
should follow, we all agreed that Agnes should bathe second. We thought that would be the best
present. Second bath, just eight days
before her wedding. How happy she will
be. How loved she is, so dear to us all.
Agnes won’t even need the posy of wildflowers I
have planned for her.
Inspiration: Medieval annual bathing in May and weddings in June
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