Traveller Inceptio
36

Report - Traveller 2

It’s comforting to know you’re receiving my reports. It’s just a little incongruous knowing you are actually one-thousand years in the future. I receive your messages and confirmation as if you are only a few kilometres away.

It can feel very odd.

Just a quick equipment confirm that all is working well. The solar panels are recharging nicely. I’ve found it best to have the panels recharge by my bag while I engage in my daily personal training. After Wuffa’s little interruption weeks ago, I tend to be left alone, or at least I’m not bothered. There are, I’m sure, watchers, but the small solar panels seem not to have attracted attention as yet.

Getting used to the Giolgrave’s lifestyle was easier and less stressful than expected. Thanks to Oeric, I’ve been able to communicate and also relearn the Saxon tongue, this time the way the locals speak it. Just to emphasise a point for Professor Bard of Nottingham University. He did a great job teaching us Saxon, but we really shouldn’t be surprised that the villagers’ spoken tongue is so different from the version we learned. Maybe this version has an accent, as these people could be considered rural hicks, but this is the only version we have so far, and I hope my notes and recordings on pronunciation will help.

Saxon life has its challenges. I’m taller than most, though not by much, and Ceolwulf is an exception to the height rule. The average Saxon male is about 5’8” or 172cm, but I think each is much stronger and tougher than most men we know. Lean, well-muscled, and generally good-natured, they don’t have the benefit of dentists so can have relatively poor dental hygiene, especially with the older members of the community. By old, I mean over thirty or thirty-five. Men have a propensity to numerous scars, perhaps from battle or just living and hunting in the forest. As you can see from the images I’ve sent, their faces are full of character with amazing road maps of wrinkles. The women are reasonably attractive, especially when younger. Some look tired and worn, and of course age tends to creep up on them a lot younger than home. In summary, the Saxons of Giolgrave are a pleasant-looking, though scruffy lot; well, the men are, anyway. The dark-haired Breton slaves, though only a few in the village, are positively diminutive by comparison. I have yet to speak with some of them, but so far, the ones I’ve spoken to treat me with awe and flee as soon as they can.

Despite the domestic animals, the gardens, the vermin that share the dwellings and the fact that the paths about the village are dirt, the village is not the cesspit most historians might have thought. Many of the homes have timber floors, and from what I can see, most of the women take great care to keep their homes clean. Children are clean and their hair braided, often with flowers, and bright colours are rare and highly valued. Their homes are plain and Spartan, but the use of painted colour in the hall and the church betray a love of colour and an eye for the arts and beauty.

Most of the men are skilled in working wood, while others carve bone and work leather to make the most basic items.

I can already identify with the Saxon lifestyle, that of working hard and playing hard, with a love of the forest, the earth, and a peaceful life. Makes me sound like a Hobbit, I suppose, but it’s true.

Anyway, my introduction to 11th Century life was not without its hazards. Though the food is hearty and filling, it tended to give me a testing time as I experienced a terrific case of diarrhoea after I had been in Giolgrave for only three days. Whether it was due to a diet high in fibre, or something in the water or the beor, despite the very best of 21st Century medicines and immunizations, I found myself running to the toilet at the most inopportune times. To go to the toilet at a Saxon village means to squat a bowshot from the nearest building or to sit on one of the smelly privies: essentially a wattle screen, a hole in the ground and a branch upon which to sit. The worst was my inability to fart with confidence for some days and I found myself washing my loincloths on more than a few occasions. Thankfully, my stomach flora seems to have settled, and though I have been queasy on and off, I now feel relatively normal.

Getting back to cleanliness, any good soldier knows to look after his own health and I must say I was particularly fastidious when it came to my drinking water. Even with our filter bag and my personal water filter, I found the water to be very clean, so I now drink straight from the streams as long as they are not close to the village. Again, maybe it is my stomach flora, but I feel confident I can eat or drink pretty well anywhere. It did take a little while for me to get used to the Saxon beor, but thanks to my filter-frames, we now have beor without the excessive roughage, for which Oeric is most grateful.

Cleaning teeth and washing may not be a daily occurrence, but again, the people, especially the women, are cleaner than many of the history professors imagined. I have become used to body odours, though the monks can be an assault on the nostrils. Tatae showed me how many of the villagers chew herbs to sweeten the breath, and also there are the twigs that are chewed and then used to brush teeth. As it’s summer, most swim in the creeks and couples often wander off for a private swim as the occasion presents itself.

One thing I’ve found is, despite their strong Christian teachings, these people are not prudes. When it comes to sex, there are lots of jokes and comments, and the women are by far the worst offenders. They know me well enough now to make a few comments that are designed to make me blush.

I’ve tried to take as many pix as I can. You’ll have images of the village, villagers, and the animals, as well as my too-friendly rat which shares my humble abode. I call him Ralph and he seems to have accepted me as a co-occupant. He has, it seems, become used to a morning visit.

Well, signing off. Keep the requests and questions coming.

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