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.After that, you wonder how you ever saw it theother way."Then there would be no great to-do, no laughter."Why didn't anyone sayanything?" Pierrette asked."You had to have a reason." Her eyebrows rose in a question.Pierrette explained about her father and the olive grove.Granna was familiarwith the problem.In the old Roman days, inheritance had been fixed by laws.Migrations and invasions had brought new customs.Now, depending on whetherone considered herself Roman, Celt, Visigoth or Frank, different rulesapplied, and because everyone intermarried, there was no clear precedent.Itwas like having no laws at all."Besides," Granna continued, "more than one woman would be glad to be a man.It's easier.`Fetch this, give me that,' or `Where's my dinner?' No sneakingthe occasional penny or saving spoonsful of salt to trade for a few yards ofcloth, or needles to sew it.Sitting home when a husband goes to the inn forwine." She shook her head."You used to go there with Gilles.You won't bewelcome there any more."Pierrette had not considered that."For all you know about being a girl or a woman you might have been bornyesterday," Granna mused.Pierrette felt cold, despite the sunlight.Jerome had said that too.Had she,a "boy" all her life, taken too much for granted? Of course the men would notwelcome a woman, who might tell their wives how much they drank and spent, andof drunken revelations that would get them in trouble at home.Women wieldedsharp-honed tongues.Would she be reduced to that?Yet her situation was unique.She had always exercised a degree of controlover Gilles.Why would that change?* * *Pierrette's metamorphosis caused little stir.Summer wore into fall, and shesettled into her new role.There was gossip but what was there, really, to besaid? She had done nothing scandalous, had not harmed anyone.As a girl, Pierrette maintained a brown, mousy appearance.She did not wishto be exceptional, only accepted but that eluded her.Women treated her nodifferently than before.She did not become an intimate member of the clustersof girls who huddled together at noontime, eating, laughing, and gossiping.Girls her age had long since formed their friendships.They had known andmostly ignored the boy Piers, and they continued to do so.They did not knowthe girl Pierrette, and were not interested, except as an object of curiosity.Page 130 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlNo one rushed up to ask, "What was it like, being a boy?" They only looked andthose looks kept her apart.She only felt like a woman with Anselm.After his initial surprise, themage's behavior shifted in some subtle male fashion.The supplicants who came had weighty things on their minds, and paid littleattention to her, as a person.Of course her position as Anselm's apprenticecaused talk, but few Christians wished their visits to the sorcerer known.What was said was always attributed at second- or third-hand: "So-and-so toldme she heard."No one seemed to notice that her arrivals and departures were almostsimultaneous.To an observer, she would have appeared to enter through thegate, then to have come right back out again though for her, hours, even days,elapsed inside.She tried to reason out that paradox.If she arrived, ate a meal, read a bookor scroll, and only then answered the bell's ringing when visitors came, howcould she eat again after they left their requests heard, their ills healed atthe same moment she had arrived? No matter how she struggled to force time todo her bidding to become understandable she never gained more than a headache.She could not ask visitors about their perceptions of time's passage.Thosewho passed her in street or marketplace pointedly avoided her.Consorting withsorcerers, or their apprentices, was not openly acceptable.* * *Pierrette heard the crash of breaking pottery as she neared the house."It'snot here!" cried her father.Leaving her jars, she opened the door upon ashambles.Broken pots were strewn across the floor.The room reeked of spilledwine and spices.Bedding, clothing, and utensils lay in heaps, and furniturewas overturned.Gilles glared with sick anger."What have you done with my silver?""Papa! You're drunk! Your money is where you hid it." She went to the hearth,and wiggled the loose stone free."It's right here.It.Father! Didyou move it again?" The niche was empty [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.After that, you wonder how you ever saw it theother way."Then there would be no great to-do, no laughter."Why didn't anyone sayanything?" Pierrette asked."You had to have a reason." Her eyebrows rose in a question.Pierrette explained about her father and the olive grove.Granna was familiarwith the problem.In the old Roman days, inheritance had been fixed by laws.Migrations and invasions had brought new customs.Now, depending on whetherone considered herself Roman, Celt, Visigoth or Frank, different rulesapplied, and because everyone intermarried, there was no clear precedent.Itwas like having no laws at all."Besides," Granna continued, "more than one woman would be glad to be a man.It's easier.`Fetch this, give me that,' or `Where's my dinner?' No sneakingthe occasional penny or saving spoonsful of salt to trade for a few yards ofcloth, or needles to sew it.Sitting home when a husband goes to the inn forwine." She shook her head."You used to go there with Gilles.You won't bewelcome there any more."Pierrette had not considered that."For all you know about being a girl or a woman you might have been bornyesterday," Granna mused.Pierrette felt cold, despite the sunlight.Jerome had said that too.Had she,a "boy" all her life, taken too much for granted? Of course the men would notwelcome a woman, who might tell their wives how much they drank and spent, andof drunken revelations that would get them in trouble at home.Women wieldedsharp-honed tongues.Would she be reduced to that?Yet her situation was unique.She had always exercised a degree of controlover Gilles.Why would that change?* * *Pierrette's metamorphosis caused little stir.Summer wore into fall, and shesettled into her new role.There was gossip but what was there, really, to besaid? She had done nothing scandalous, had not harmed anyone.As a girl, Pierrette maintained a brown, mousy appearance.She did not wishto be exceptional, only accepted but that eluded her.Women treated her nodifferently than before.She did not become an intimate member of the clustersof girls who huddled together at noontime, eating, laughing, and gossiping.Girls her age had long since formed their friendships.They had known andmostly ignored the boy Piers, and they continued to do so.They did not knowthe girl Pierrette, and were not interested, except as an object of curiosity.Page 130 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlNo one rushed up to ask, "What was it like, being a boy?" They only looked andthose looks kept her apart.She only felt like a woman with Anselm.After his initial surprise, themage's behavior shifted in some subtle male fashion.The supplicants who came had weighty things on their minds, and paid littleattention to her, as a person.Of course her position as Anselm's apprenticecaused talk, but few Christians wished their visits to the sorcerer known.What was said was always attributed at second- or third-hand: "So-and-so toldme she heard."No one seemed to notice that her arrivals and departures were almostsimultaneous.To an observer, she would have appeared to enter through thegate, then to have come right back out again though for her, hours, even days,elapsed inside.She tried to reason out that paradox.If she arrived, ate a meal, read a bookor scroll, and only then answered the bell's ringing when visitors came, howcould she eat again after they left their requests heard, their ills healed atthe same moment she had arrived? No matter how she struggled to force time todo her bidding to become understandable she never gained more than a headache.She could not ask visitors about their perceptions of time's passage.Thosewho passed her in street or marketplace pointedly avoided her.Consorting withsorcerers, or their apprentices, was not openly acceptable.* * *Pierrette heard the crash of breaking pottery as she neared the house."It'snot here!" cried her father.Leaving her jars, she opened the door upon ashambles.Broken pots were strewn across the floor.The room reeked of spilledwine and spices.Bedding, clothing, and utensils lay in heaps, and furniturewas overturned.Gilles glared with sick anger."What have you done with my silver?""Papa! You're drunk! Your money is where you hid it." She went to the hearth,and wiggled the loose stone free."It's right here.It.Father! Didyou move it again?" The niche was empty [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]