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