The summer of 1348, the quiet Cotswold village of Outen Green simmers with unexpected happenings. Lady Bernadine (Berna) Corbet, daughter of the manor, is due to wed a much older man she detests, while the groom’s own daughter will wed Sir Guy Corbet, Berna’s father. A loathsome arrangement, to be sure, but Sir Guy’s word is law. Berna hoped that her preferred suitor, Laurence Haket, would spirit her away — according to the chivalric Romance of the Rose, which she adores, he should have — but Laurence seems to love his dignity more than he does Berna.

Will Quate, a plowman and archer bonded to Sir Guy, has been recruited to join a troop of bowmen raised by Laurence to accompany him to Calais, where Laurence has a fiefdom. Will’s betrothed pleads with Will to stay and doesn’t understand why he refuses. She assumes that it’s because she had a stillborn child by another man, but that’s not why. Sir Guy has promised to release Will from his bond if he serves one year, and Will, no fool, has dared demand that promise in writing, even though he can’t read.

Unlettered though he is, however, he can imagine what freedom means, and not just in the sense that leaving Sir Guy's lands without permission is a hanging offense. An unusual, fascinating character in historical fiction of the medieval era, Will dares hope for an as-yet undefined future, what his neighbors would never dream of—though when he hears the word “possibility,” he has to ask what it means, which is telling.

You sense that Will and Berna will drive parallel narratives, and that the nature of love will be a significant theme. As one wise character says, “Love is whatever remains once one has made an accommodation with fate.” Since the description of the plague rumored to have afflicted France (what the characters call “the qualm”) recalls the Black Death, which also fits the timing, you can guess that how people behave during a pandemic will matter here too. The novel, published 2019, isn’t prescient, though it may seem so; rather, it’s that pandemics share certain qualities. But the similarities are striking and instructive, nonetheless.

With that as background, Meek’s folk hash out good and evil; the nature of gender; sin and redemption; the fear of, and violence toward, women; desire and obstacles to satisfaction; what knowledge and truth mean. Throw in sidelines like anti-Semitism and whether the English archers who destroyed the French nobility at the Battle of Crécy betrayed the social order, and you begin to see how rich and complex this novel is.

I love Meek’s characters; major or minor, they come through in full. One favorite is Thomas, a scholar who joins the expedition to Calais nominally as a churchman, though he has no power to perform the sacraments, which becomes an issue. But he serves admirably as a mediator amid the constant squabbles and moral dilemmas that arise, and he unsettles his companions — especially the archers, a rough lot — by defining and clarifying issues rather than offering solutions or justifying the behavior he’s been asked to judge. He’s a moral relativist, in other words, frightening to fourteenth-century minds. A later generation might think of him also as a therapist.

Except for the educated characters’ narration, Meek tells his story in archaic English, which he apparently culled from the OED, and which appears in unfamiliar rhythms. That takes getting used to, until the usages begin to make sense: for example, neb for nose, steven for voice, lolled for hanged. Consequently, Meek creates a language barrier between high-born and low, part of his exploration of social class. But it’s also beautiful prose poetry.

Cheeky humor typifies To Calais, which has its uproarious, bawdy moments. But if you’re thinking Chaucer, as I did at first, this narrative only partly resembles “The Miller’s Tale.” A great deal of casual violence occurs, and the circumstances of a gang-rape, which happened in the past, figure heavily in the narrative.

At times, I find Thomas the scholar’s moral reasoning too modern, satisfying though it is. There’s also a deathbed epiphany that strikes me as implausible. But To Calais, in Ordinary Time offers so many pleasures that flaws like these don’t get in the way. ( )

Writing in cod dialect usually is off putting. The language doesn't flow and the phonetics often don't work. But Mr Meek has pulled off his imitation medieval english. It must have taken a huge amount of discipline to consistently use grammar, spelling and unfamiliar words in a way that soon sounds reasonably natural. Having said that, I'm not sure it adds much to the story as a whole were it not written in modern language. A group not of pilgrims but of bowmen on their way to war. Guilt is what binds them and haunts them. Innocence represented by youth. A scribe providing links and explanations. A good effort which doesn't quite match up to the epic ancestry it evokes. ( )

A wonderful story and a wonderful read. We follow the journey of a motley group of pilgrims attempting a venture from the Cotswolds, England to Calais, France, in the year 1348. Among our group:

- Lady Bernadine, daughter of Lord of the manor in the small town of Outen Green, who ventures forth to escape an odious arranged marriage and chase down her erstwhile paramour, Laurence Hacket

- Laurance Hacket, who is eventually encountered and added to the group, who turns out to be perhaps not all Bernadine hoped for and dreamed of

- Will Quate, good-looking young labourer, whose bondsman/freeman status is vague, and who journeys to Calais to join the fight against the French as an archer

- Hab, lowly pigboy back in Outen Green, who follows Will because he's in love with him, and spends most of the book cross-dressed as his "sister" Madlen

- Thomas, Scotsman by birth, now scribe and proctor of a church in Avignon, France, to which he now hopes to return (I wasn't clear what brought him to England in the first place)

- A band of archers with whom Will has thrown his fate, each one more grotesque and morally questionable than the last

- Cecile, or "Cess", a Frenchwoman raped and abducted by the archers back during their last round of fighting in France, now a captive of one of them, the one who goes by the name of "Softly"

But I encourage you to Google "1348" and "plague" to see the main character of the story. OK, never mind, I'll tell you: in 1348, the Black Death arrived in England.

The story is good enough, but what is hypnotic is the writing. Will, Hab/Madlen, and the archers speak an English untouched by any French or Latin. Bernadine's speech is replete with French flourishes, Thomas' with Latin. But to the lowly, words we today find mundanely English such as "doubt" or "punish" have them staring with incomprehension, protesting, "Too many French words for me".

The story's narration takes place alternately from the perspective of, and in the language of the archer contingent; Thomas; and Bernadine/Laurence. Here's a random sample of the writing when the archers are the focus:

"The drum beat faster, Mad sang of a freke who went with an elf, and Sweetmouth hopped with two high-born maids who laughed so hard they had to hold each other to keep from falling over."

And Bernadine:

"'Had I passed Laurence a message saying I desired him to ravish me of my family and marry me in secret, I'm sure he would have responded.'"

And Thomas (whose passages are all excerpts of missives he is writing to two people back home named Marc & Judith):

"'What, Judith, is the significance of my indulgent confession that I desired to be desired by you, carnally as well as spiritually?'"

There's just a taste of how the story goes. I thought the switching between the different voices, which is done frequently, sometimes three times per two pages, was a wonderful device for moving the tale forward, and I delighted each time in hearing the different perspectives. The characters of Bernadine and Madlen were particularly deep; Laurence comical, seeming closest to a modern-day personality; Thomas a bit inscrutable (he'd like that word). I admit I had a little trouble juggling all of the archers' backstories, real names, and "ekenames" (nicknames). Follow them all through the English countryside, and try not to freak out too much as you watch "the pest" (pestilence) following them as well... ( )

A really enjoyable and informative book about a group of archers from the Cotswolds in Gloucestershire travelling to Calais in 1348, two years after the battle of Crécy in which English archers had been instrumental in the defeat of the French and the capture of Calais. Joining their party for protection is a student (Thomas, with all students being clerical at this time), a runaway would be bride (Bernadette, whose “amour” is going to Calais) and a swineherd (Hab, who loves one of the archers ).
Meek uses multiple narrators, some archaic language to heighten our sense of historical distance and, at times, the telling of past events, to create an absorbing story, which also makes you appreciate the differences (and similarities) of medieval life.
Some may not like the use of different voices to tell the story from several perspectives, but I found this excellent in creating a believable other place, other time.

Epigraph:
God is deaf nowadays
Langland - Piers the Plowman ( )

To Calais, in Ordinary Time is one of those books you enter like a world and realize you want to remain in. To Calais is set in the 14th Century as the Black Death arrives in Britain, so that wanting to remain is very conditional. One doesn't want the death, the brutality, the disrespect for women—but one does want the pacing and the unexpected relationships that form and the ethical considerations faced when every act (or absence) is seen as God's will.

To Calais follows an unusual cohort traveling south to the ports, so the members can sail to Calais for a variety of reasons. There are experienced archers who've fought in Calais earlier and who embody a volatile mix of brutality and honor; a woman these archers raped and abducted the last time they were in France; a young woman escaping marriage to a much older man; a neither-priest-nor-scholar intellectual, charged as the group's spiritual advisor; a young peasant newly joining the archers; and a swineherd in love with this peasant, alternately appearing as himself and as his "sister" Madlen, in hopes of winning that beloved's affections.

Watching these characters define themselves, both individually and in relation to one another, is fascinating and, at times, heart-rending. The language of the novel, which uses older word forms and highlights the difference between the English-English of peasants and the French-English of the nobility, slows the pace a bit in ways that are appropriate to the gradual speed of the journey the characters are undertaking. And, amid all the seriousness and exploration of the complexities of identity are generous moments of humor.

The experience this book offers is surprising, deeply engaging, challenging, and rewarding—a blend of all the best fiction has to offer.

I received a free electronic ARC of this title from the publisher via NetGalley. The opinions are my own. ( )