Last week you met Keeva MacKai and Lord Randal Du Grace. Randal suffers the mistaken belief that Keeva embarked on the long journey from Scotland in pursuit of his brother Simon. A physician has diagnosed her sea-sickness incorrectly as lovesickness. For more on that see last week’s Medieval Mumbles. Today we see the letter Randal wrote to Simon, in which Simon is accused of indulging in wifthings with Keeva. The Middle English Dictionary gives only two meaning for wifthings. “1. (a) A wedding, nuptial celebration; (b) sexual intercourse with a woman.” Since Simon is not married, it is the latter of these two meanings that Randal intends. Here’s Randal’s letter and a brief glimpse of Simon’s reaction. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.
Dear Simon,
I pray this letter finds you well. It is imperative that you return home immediately. I was 
very surprised today by the arrival of Lady Keeva MacKai. She came with no letter or communication of any sort. She’d become ill on the voyage from Scotland and was in no state to explain herself.
Believing she was seasick, I called a physician to physick her. After examining Lady Keeva, the doctor informed me she suffered not from mal-de-mare but from lovesickness. He based this assessment on the fact that “she raved about a man called Simon, cursing and crying alternately. Saying she was heartily sorry she’d ever met him and at the same time sick that she’d not see him soon.” He assured me her lovesickness is a classic case. Whatever has passed between you and Lady Keeva you must return here to make all right. I cannot believe that you would be indulging in wifthings with the young lady, even if she is a Scot. However, if such is the case, I will see you wed to her without delay. I have written to Baron Raeb MacKai—whom I asked to forward this letter—and assured him that Keeva is alive and will be well cared for here until the reasons for her arrival can be resolved. I’ve had to send for Aunt Ophelia to preserve Lady Keeva’s honor. You know how great a burden our aunt can make of herself. Please hurry!
With Respect,
Lord Randal Du Grace
Simon folded the parchment and placed it within a pocket secreted within his doublet. He stared in both directions down the country lane he trod. Saint Ethelred’s stones! I’m the only Du Grace to ever consider taking the cloth. How did Randal get this strange idea that I would steal a lady’s honor?
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