For the foreseeable future, Medieval Mumbles will focus on words that would have been used to tell some of my stories. Over the next six weeks, we’ll be looking at words that medieval Englishmen and women might have used when telling the stories of how six women met and married the men they come to love. These six women are the sisters of Baron Raeb MacKai from Knight Defender. If you haven’t read Knight Defender, you might wish to do so. Some of these blog posts may appear in the completed stories of the brides. But more on those later. For now, here is the first post. Today’s word is ‘hosebond.’

A medieval ‘hosebond,’ when directly translated is what you and I know as a ‘husband’ or male spouse. However the MED (Middle English Dictionary) lists three additional meanings for the word:

• The man in charge of something, typically a household.
• A bondsman or ‘customary tenant who has a holding of land in addition to the croft land attached to his homestead.
• And finally ‘hosebond’ is found in medieval records as a surname.

Now consider, if you did not know ‘hosebond’ was a Middle English term, you might think it was some sort of product to keep your socks from drooping. It might be amusing to have a scene in The Taming of Iver MacTavish (Working Title) that plays with the potential puns of ‘hosebond.’

Here’s a possible scene from The Taming of Iver MacTavish.

“Laird MacTavish,” ‘tis shamed I am to admit I agreed to wed w’ ye.

Iver aimed a narrow-eyed gaze at his wife. I told her to call me Iver. Why does she persist in Lairding me? Bridghe MacKai now MacTavish was not the woman he had expected to marry. Her brother had promised Iver his choice from among the remaining six MacKai sisters—one had already wed. Iver had chosen a lively, hard-working lass named Neelina. But for reasons he could not comprehend, Bridghe had managed to substitute herself at the last moment. He’d been furious, and promptly left for home. He’d not even allowed his bride the chance to bid her family farewell. On the journey, he’d discovered Bridghe had sacrificed her hope of becoming a nun to save her sister from wedding a monster whose soul Bridghe considered was in dire need of saving. She’d be the one needing saving by the time he was done punishing her for her deception.

“’Tis a sorry excuse for a hosebond ye are. Leaving yer hose a drooping over every chair and chest.” Bridghe, who’d been picking up the clothing that lay scattered about the room, came to sit across the table from him and poured herself a cup of ale.

He frowned into his mug. She’d complained constantly while he contemplated the curse he’d gained as a wife. He’d show her what a poor hosebond truly was.

“Why ye canna even keep yer stockings properly attached to yer garters,” she continued and gestured to where his crossed legs extended beyond the table.

He glanced down and saw his hose crumpled around his ankles, kept from the floor only by the short boots he wore when inside the castle. He bent removed his boots and socks then replaced the boots before lifting the hose to peer at and sniff them. They were filthy with crusted dirt and stank.

Across the table Bridghe stared at him open mouthed.

“Aye, ‘tis a sad state all my clothes are in, and yer duty as me wife to mend them. Ye can start with these.”

He threw the saggy, smelly items at her, hitting her smack in that lovely open mouth.

“You beast. How dare you?”

He blinked at her as if he were totally innocent. “Who is it ye’re calling ‘beast,’ wife? Yer hosebond? The man who gives ye food, clothes and shelter? Who loves ye as he loves no other.  Aye, and those feelings were a curse too. He stood, leaned across the table to loom over her. “Well, seems, yer hose bound to me, now.” He grinned the most evil grin he could manage. “I’ll expect me hose to be like new tomorrow morning.”

“Never.” She stood and threw the socks back at his face.

He caught them before they could land. He hefted the smelly rags in his hand then circled the table to stand before her. “Ye’ve already tasted the consequences of defying me once wife. “Obey me in this or suffer worse than before.”

He hooked a finger in her bodice with one hand and stuffed the filthy hose between her breasts then walked off whistling.

Leave a comment and let me know what you think of Iver and Bridghe or what you think might happen next. Thanks for reading.