A Vision of Light (Margaret of Ashbury Trilogy Series #1)

A Vision of Light (Margaret of Ashbury Trilogy Series #1)

by Judith Merkle Riley


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780307237873
Publisher: Crown/Archetype
Publication date: 05/23/2006
Series: Margaret of Ashbury Trilogy Series , #1
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 448
Sales rank: 319,860
Product dimensions: 5.23(w) x 7.98(h) x 0.94(d)

About the Author

Judith Merkle Riley is a professor of political science and has a Ph.D. from the University of California, Berkeley.

Read an Excerpt

A Vision of Light

By Judith Merkle Riley

Random House

Judith Merkle Riley
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0307237877

Chapter One

AT THE WEST END OF THE GREAT NORman nave of St. Paul's Cathedral in the City of London, a tall, angular figure in a nondescript, threadbare old gray gown lurked by a pillar, intently watching the throng of merchants, pious ladies, servants, and clerics as they went about their business. St. Paul's was a good place to find work: at one pillar unemployed servants stood, waiting for offers, while at the north Si quis door, priests did the same thing more discreetly, posting neatly written little notices that they were available for any vacancy. Here at the west end twelve scribes of the cathedral sat at desks to write letters and draw up documents for the public; it was around this place that Brother Gregory had prowled for the last several days, waiting to snap up any copying business that might fall unattended from their tables. Two days ago he had written a letter for an old woman to her son in Calais, but since then there had been nothing, and Brother Gregory had begun to have indecent dreams of sausages and pig's knuckles.
It was odd how voices reverberated and were lost in the nave. From somewhere far away the thin thread of a melody descended, to be interrupted by the rattle of voices from one of the nearby bays. A knight had entered by the main door without remembering to remove his spurs. There was a chatterand a flurry as white-surpliced choirboys swarmed around him to demand their customary tribute. As Brother Gregory watched the scribes' desks, he noticed a young matron, followed by a serving girl, as she went up to the first desk, but the sound of their conversation, although it was fairly close, floated away and was lost. He watched her walk to each of the desks in turn. As she paused at the second desk, the clerk at the first desk turned to see what his colleague would do. When the second clerk looked down his long nose at her as if he smelled a bad fish, the first clerk laughed behind his hand. As she turned to go to the next desk, Brother Gregory could see her profile. Her chin was set hard.
A stubborn woman, thought Brother Gregory, as he watched her stand behind an old man waiting at the third desk. Stubbornness is a bad quality in a woman.
Then she passed to the next scribe. This one, a fat red-jowled cleric, laughed in her face. Then he leaned conspiratorially over to his colleague and whispered behind his hand. The next man whispered in turn to his colleague on the other side, who, when she stood at last before his tall desk, pointed over in Brother Gregory's direction. She turned suddenly and stared at Brother Gregory across half the width of the nave, to where he stood by his pillar. She looked a little puzzled and disappointed but then started toward him.
She didn't look as old as he'd supposed at first. Not more than a year or two over twenty, he thought. A dark blue cloak with the hood pulled up covered her dress entirely, revealing only the edges of her white linen veil and wimple. She looked well off: the cloak was lined in rich fur and fastened with a gold filigree brooch. She had come through the spring mud on foot, her wooden pattens were still strapped beneath her embroidered morocco-leather slippers. She was of medium height, but even on the high, carved pattens she seemed smaller than she actually was, for she was slender and fine boned. Brother Gregory thought he saw a sort of lost look on her face, but some women seem always to look a little confused. After all, many of them were incapable of dealing with a man's world and really should not be allowed out-of-doors alone. It couldn't be much of a job she wanted done, if all the cathedral scribes thought it was a joke, Brother Gregory mused to himself. Well, it would be better to take a small job than have none at all. These unpleasant dreams had been interfering with his meditations; maybe he'd get a good dinner out of this woman. Then he could continue his search for God undisturbed.
The woman hesitated for a moment, looking Brother Gregory up and down, and then said firmly, "I need a clerk who can write."
"That is self-evident," responded Brother Gregory, inspecting her more closely. Rich, very rich, he concluded. And self-willed too.
"I mean write, really write." They've played a joke on me, those cathedral clerks, thought Margaret. The man's a beggar-one of those vagabond thieves who dress up like friars to get money. He probably can't read and write at all. He'll make a great show of it for a while, until he's paid, she worried. Then he'll walk out, leaving me with pages of meaningless markings and everyone laughing at me for a fool. And I'll be lucky if he doesn't take the silver spoons as well. Horrid, horrid Voice! Why didn't it bother someone else?
"I can write," said Brother Gregory, with calm arrogance. "I can write in Latin, French, and common English. I will not, however, write in German; it is a barbaric tongue that curdles the ink."
He speaks properly, thought Margaret. Not like a peasant or a foreigner. I'll try him. So she plunged on: "I need a clerk who can write a whole book."
"A copyist for a book of prayers? I can do that."
"No-a book, a book about women. A book about me."
Brother Gregory was shocked. He was dimly conscious, too, of an amused glitter in several pairs of eyes at the scribes' desks, as they watched the negotiations from a distance. Brother Gregory glowered at the woman. She was spoiled to the bone. What foolish rich man was indulging these insane fantasies? Clearly she thought that money would buy everything, even a man's integrity. He was as courteous as possible under the circumstances, but soon enough he sent her off under the sharp eyes of the cathedral scribes.
As Margaret turned to go, she looked back intently at him, and a shrewd look of calculation passed over her face. It was the arrogance that had caught her attention. All the ones who can really read and write are like that, she thought. She watched intently as Brother Gregory stood at his full height and looked down his nose at her, as if he had a hundred dinners waiting for him, and her work didn't interest him in the least. Her eyes followed him as he turned to see if he could find other business.
By late that afternoon Brother Gregory's luck hadn't turned, and he wandered disconsolately into the muddy churchyard. He was feeling rather hollow inside, and the bare branches and the section of the church wall above his head seemed to heave and whirl in the gray sky in a most unusual fashion. He had just stopped for a moment to lean against the churchyard wall when that woman again, who had seemed to come out of nowhere, was tugging on his worn sleeve, her maid standing behind her. He looked down at her while her face went on talking and talking, and followed her through a maze of alleys to a little bakeshop in Cheapside, where she seemed to think they could discuss her project in greater privacy. Here she sat Brother Gregory down in a corner and ordered quite a bit more food than she needed, which she placed in front of him. Brother Gregory ate very slowly, until the smoky bakeshop ceiling quit moving about, and all the while she pleaded with him in the most humble and self-effacing way. It didn't seem so wrong, what she wanted, especially if one took into consideration the fact that she'd been told to do it by a Voice. It just had to be seen in the right light and it wasn't so bad, not so bad at all. And so Brother Gregory agreed to come the next day to her husband's house by the river to begin the work.
The very next morning Brother Gregory threaded his way among the laden donkeys, horsemen, and merchants on Thames Street, following it as it wound along the bank of the river, searching for the house of Roger Kendall. The street was a favorite place for merchants who dealt in imported goods to locate their houses: Brother Gregory recognized the house of a noted vintner a few doors down from his destination. Then he stopped for a moment before an imposing, three-storied house that looked like the right place, inspecting it up and down. The front was crisscrossed with elaborately carved and brightly painted timber supports, and from the corners where the timbers joined, there stared out the curiously carved and gilded faces of angels and beasts, while under the high, pointed eaves, painted owls' faces were hidden at the roofline. The lead gutters at the end of the eaves were finished off with a pair of fancifully cast leaden gargoyles, whose open mouths formed the drain spouts.
Even from the street Roger Kendall's love of comfort was evident, and Brother Gregory could easily understand how his wife was so spoiled. The windows were unusual for a private residence: between brightly painted green and red carved shutters, there were panes of real glass, set in thick little circles joined together with lead. On the great timber above the front door, between two deeply cut crosses, the motto of the house had been carved beneath a representation of Kendall's coat of arms: dextra domini exultavit me.
Brother Gregory inspected the seal above the motto: yes, this was surely the place. It certainly looked like a merchant's seal: there was not a lion on it, and probably it wasn't even registered with the College of Heralds. Three sheep, a balance, and a sea serpent. The man certainly made it plain how he had made his money. Brother Gregory lifted the heavy brass door-knocker. In a few moments he had been shown to a place where he might wait in the great hall. As he sat on a bench, inspecting the painted seal on the chimney over the great hearth, his matted sheepskin cloak beside him, he wondered how long it would be before she tired of the project. After all, how much could a woman have to say? In a few days, perhaps a week, she'd find some new form of self-indulgence, and he could return to his meditations in peace. The firedogs glistened in the flames; the great hall was pleasant and warm. He could smell dinner being made in the kitchen beyond the wide screen at the end of the hall. Yes, with any luck, he could count on just a few days before he could set out again, newly fortified, on his search for God.

"Where do you wish to begin?" asked Brother Gregory.
"At the beginning, when I was little," answered Margaret.
"So you've been hearing voices since you were little?" Brother Gregory's own voice was bemused.
"Oh, no, when I was little I was just like everyone else. The only voices I heard were mother's and father's. They didn't like the way I was turning out. But that is the way it is with parents. Some children just work out better than others. So I thought I'd start there-with my family, and how things began differently than they ended."
"Very well, it is always best to start at the beginning," said Brother Gregory, with a certain irony, sharpening a quill with his knife. Margaret didn't notice anything odd about that statement at all. It seemed just right.

I suppose it was about two summers after our mother died that our lives took a new turning that set us on the very different paths we now tread. By "us" I mean my brother David and me, of course. I was a little girl, seven, or maybe six, if I recall it right. David and I were as close as two twins, even though he was a year younger. We did everything together. Our favorite things to do were sitting in our apple tree, eating apples and spitting the seeds down on the ground, and, at planting time, running about and screaming and waving our arms to frighten away the birds from the seed corn. Everyone said we were very good at that. With mother dead, father didn't care for us much, so we roved about together like a pair of wild things, speaking an odd language we had made up that nobody but us could understand. Even though he was a boy and I was a girl, we thought we could go on forever that way.
But nothing goes on forever, even if it seems like it at the time. Take our village, for example. It was as old as God's footprints in Eden, but it's gone now. The plague turned it into a sheep pasture. The only place it's the same is in my mind. I can still see the naked northern hills rising in jagged wedges behind the flat, tilled land on the valley floor, and the brook running like a narrow gash, separating the church, square, and the larger houses from the cottars' huts on the other side of the stone bridge.
Ashbury was at that time the least of the villages of the great Abbey of St. Matthew, but it was on the high road, and that should be counted a distinction. From our front door you could see the square Norman tower of the church beyond the trees, and the curve of the road before our house led directly to the churchyard. It gave our house a sort of prominence, even if it was not large. Father made us different too. He was freeborn and held his own land. And besides being the best bowman in the demesne, he was also the best piper and the best drinker in Ashbury, which always counts for a great deal in the country.
The day I'm thinking about was really the day all the changes started. After that nothing could be put back together again, even David and me-though it didn't all become clear to me until later. It was warm and summery, and David and I were sitting in the dusty road in front of our door. Two doors down Goodwife Sarah and her gossips were also sitting in the sun, chattering as they took turns using a fine-tooth comb on each other's hair. David and I were playing: we were seeing who could pick off the most fleas the quickest. I had pulled my skirt up to expose my shins above my bare feet, where I found three good-sized ones crawling leisurely up my leg. Quick as a flash I caught one, but the other two leapt away into the dust.

Excerpted from A Vision of Light by Judith Merkle Riley Excerpted by permission.
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Vision of Light (Margaret of Ashbury Trilogy Series #1) 4.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 33 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Lovers of well-written historical fiction will delight in Judith Merkle Riley's work, A Vision of Light. She has created one of the most engaging female protagonists of modern literature, Margaret of Ashbury. Headstrong and independent, Margaret struggles to survive in a world which places little value on females. More remarkable than the gift of healing she receives from a divine vision is her ability to remain pure of heart in the face of fearful trials. Ms. Riley also masterfully captures the essence of life during the middle ages. Read this book once for the entertaining story-read it subsequent times to savor Ms. Riley's prose. Continue the adventures of Margaret in the sequel book, Pursuit of the Green Lion. Hopefully, enough English readers will discover this heroine and clamor for a translation from German of the third installment of Margaret's adventures, Die Zauberquelle.
mamakhall More than 1 year ago
One of the best hisorical fiction books Ive read. Very interesting and well written. The second book in this series is equally great. So happy to find this for my nook because this book is often hard to find in paperback
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I read this trilogy many years ago and always remembered how much I enjoyed the books then. Since I have trouble finding books that truly engross me anymore I decided to re read the books. Details were forgotten and I'm just as enthralled by the story today as I was back then.. Set in the 1300s,It tells of the life of a young woman with humour,a little magic and the fearful reality of those days.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A beautifully patient book about takimg risks and overcoming the odds and maybe even trusting in yourself and?/or God- Whatever form God takes.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is an amazing book, bringinging life in England during the 14th century vividly to life. I envy anyone reading it for the first time.
LisaMaria_C on LibraryThing 3 months ago
This novel was a pleasure to read. Not that I can't find fault. Margaret of Ashbury, the wife of a rich merchant, hires a clerk to dictate her memoirs in the year 1355. The narrative switches between the present day and her experiences with her amanuensis, Brother Gregory in third person, and her own story told by her first person. Whenever we hear her own story in her own voice, I found the story absolutely engrossing. I was less taken at first with the third person parts, more than anything because within it, without the restraint of first person, Riley can't hold point of view, sometimes hopping heads within a paragraph. Yet I forgive what I often find a deal breaker, because the story of Brother Gregory and his interaction with the unorthodox Margaret is so compelling in its own right and compliments the story she's telling; it illuminates the misogyny of the day, especially among the religious, who don't see women as capable of reason or whose only possible virtue is obedience. The story is told with wonderful period detail bringing 14th Century England--the period of the Black Plague and its aftermath to life--lives high and low, from the nobility of the castle to rich merchants, clergy, even robber bands and traveling minstrels. And there's a winning humor lacing the entire tale throughout. There's also a thread of the fantastical that tempts me to tag this as fantasy--as Margaret has a "vision of light" and afterwards develops powers of healing. But then that could be seen as not out of place in a century that produced such mystics as Birgitta of Sweden, Julian of Norwich, Catherine of Siena, and particularly Margery Kempe. Kempe dictated to scribes what is considered the first autobiography in the English language and her life has several points in common with the story of Margaret of Ashbury. I feel mixed about the ending. Part of me wishes it has ended when Margaret put a "finis" on her memoirs--though it does end on a good note for further books in the series--I saw two more on the bookstore shelf. After this first book, I'll certainly be picking more up someday.
bung on LibraryThing 3 months ago
I really enjoyed this novel of Margaret, the illiterate wife of a rich merchant who catered to her whim and allowed her to record her memoirs through a scribe, a disgruntled monk called Brother Gregory, who longed to see God. Geogory eventually teaches her to write and she records the last chapter herself. The Light refers to the glow that surrounds Margaret when she uses her gift of healing. This gift, won her the heart of Master Kendall, a much older man who suffered from gout.
lauriebrown54 on LibraryThing 3 months ago
¿A Vision of Light¿ starts the Margaret of Ashbury trilogy. Set in the mid-1300s, the story starts with Margaret as a child, the daughter of a very poor but free born man. In her early teens, she is married against her will to a miserable sadist who makes her life a living hell and puts a fear of marriage into her. When the plague hits England- and her- she gets free of the marriage, or so she thinks. She takes up a new life as a healer and midwife, which works fine for awhile, until the Church comes after her for dealing with the devil. They forbid her to deal in her profession any longer, as midwives are in league with the devil. This leaves her with no way of earning her living¿.Margaret¿s life has many ups and downs, from complete wretchedness to bliss. She¿s an intelligent, hard working woman who has a special gift- she can heal people, not just with herbs, but by channeling energy through her hands. And she speaks with a Voice, who she identifies as God. The book is rich in historic detail, both the pretty and the ugly. Riley brings the era to life. The characters are mostly well done; while Margaret is strong on wanting to earn her own living and not be dependent on a man, she is still a product of her time and society. I have only one big problem with the book, and I cannot say exactly what it is without giving a spoiler. Suffice it to say that at the very end, Margaret accepts something without a struggle, which seems very much out of character for her.
dianaleez on LibraryThing 3 months ago
Judith Merkle Riley's A Vision of Light is one of my favorite novels, and Margaret of Ashbury is probably the literary character I'd most like to be. Riley's Margaret is so alive! This 14th-century Englishwoman is inspired in a "vision of light" to write her memoirs and do the unheard of - tell a woman's story. Because is she unable to write, she hires the ever-hungry, every-grumpy Brother Gregory to record her memories. Contemptuous of her ambition, he is nevertheless hungry enough to accept her offer. The story then alternates between Margaret's and Gregory's exchanges in the present and her telling the story of her life and adventures. It's a fast-paced and interesting novel; most of all it's fun. It's also well-researched and authentic, but Riley's research is never a burden for the reader. Her touch is light, and her characters charming.
mazda502001 on LibraryThing 3 months ago
As much as I tried I could not get into this book. I like historical fiction but this just couldn't keep my attention and in the end I just gave up.Back Cover Blurb:A Vision....of 14th century England - a time of crude country villages, brawling towns, and splendid cities teeming with untold riches and strange wonders.A Vision....of demons and angels, simpletons, holy flagellants, and fools...of travelling players, corrupt priests, and merchant princes, of brave knights and pale ladies languishing for love.A Vision....of one beautiful, unforgettable woman - Margaret of Ashbury. Twice bound in marriage, fated to be beaten, betrayed, taught rare arts of love and healing, and tried as a witch, she traversed a world overflowing with bitter sorrow and bawdy laughter to find a haven of love, safety, and triumphant joy.
cathyskye on LibraryThing 3 months ago
Protagonist: Margaret of Ashbury, a midwife and herbalistSetting: 14th century London, EnglandSeries: #1 of a trilogyFirst Line: In the year of our Lord 1355, three days after the Feast of the Epiphany, God put in my mind that I must write a book.Margaret of Ashbury heeds a "voice" commanding her to compose her life story. Unable to write, she hires Brother Gregory to record her memories. He is contemptuous of her ambition but hungry enough to accept her offer. Riley's plot alternates between Margaret's and Gregory's clashes in the present and her telling of her past. The story is fast paced, and the medieval setting is authentically portrayed, whether Riley is describing life on London Bridge, alchemy, or the Black Death.I loved this book. The setting felt so real that I wanted to adjust my wimple, and the voices of Margaret and Gregory were perfect: Margaret seeing things as they never were and asking why, and Gregory wanting change in his own life--but not for women! Will I be reading the other two books in the trilogy? You can take it to the bank!
AlmondJoy on LibraryThing 5 months ago
After Margaret of Ashbury is left for dead by her evil husband, she is nursed back to health by a midwife, and she gains a miraculous power to heal. Good story! Strong female central character. An appealing book. Highly recommend.
SaraFist on LibraryThing 6 months ago
The always amusing Judith Merkle Riley visits mediaeval England in the first of the Margaret Ashby novels. Margaret is clearly based on Margery Kempe, but succeeds in making Margery far mor epalatable. Margaret is neither histrionic nor crazed; rather, she is eminently sensible. This one is somewhat less romantic in nature than other works, in part due to Margaret's being married throughout. There are also fewer instances of the supernatural or fantastic, but that has more to do with Margaret's being a visionary of God than any change in format.Decidedly humorous and somewhat satiric tongue-in-cheek portrayal of mediaeval England. Recommended.
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Just re-read it again! It's so good. My whole book club loved it, too.
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