I was born in Brideport in Dorset to parents who somehow managed to survive the many outbreaks of the Black Death and attacks by raiding French and Spanish forces.  A rope merchant by trade, my father was many times obliged to deal with officers of the royal court to provide ropes for their ships and other weapons of warfare.

It was through one of these dealings that I met my husband, Captain Nicholas Horton who had, despite being a third son of a minor lord, managed to make his way in life and now has his own retinue.  We had a daughter Eleanor, who has entered the service of the King at his court in London.

The port town of Brideport was an exotic, dangerous and exciting place to grow up.  The cargoes that would appear on the quayside from faraway places would be, to most people, unheard of commodities.  Olive oil, wine, fruits such as pomegranates and limes, spices from distant lands, silks and fine fabrics to grace the halls of the wealthy.  Sailors would tell tall tales of creatures that lived in the places they had visited, and they would bring home parrots, monkeys, and even mermaid’s eggs.

This sparked an interest in the spices that would spice the food of anyone that had coin to spare for the spice merchants.

Today, through the wealth of our Lord de Rodes and even from my own household funds, I am able to provide spices to the kitchen of the Freemen of Gwent.  Basic spices such as pepper, cinnamon and ginger are joined by the more expensive and exotic grains of paradise, long pepper and nutmeg.

Providing food for the table in this band of warriors is a constant battle in itself, and takes the labour of many of the women throughout the day.  Chopping firewood or chopping vegetables, keeping the fire lit and at a constant temperature, preparing the finest dishes and the most basic bread and pottage all takes much effort.  Without these efforts our men would go hungry and would not be well enough to fight.

Perhaps we will meet at the spice merchants, or at the market as we buy produce for the table.