Grunts were the usual response to his attempts at conversation, and when it wasn’t grunts it was Cornish, which was worse.
Excerpt…
England, winter, 1326-1327
Jaufre, Johanna, and Shasha settled in to plan an English extension of the Road, and Jaufre began his study of how to be a lord under the tutelage of Tregloyne. “Not a lord,” Tregloyne told him. “God’s teeth, save me from that, I’d be taxed to death and have to take up arms at the king’s behest to boot. Master of Glynnow is what they call me, and what they’ll call you.”
At first Jaufre was certain they wouldn’t. They were a taciturn bunch, these Cornishmen, and unwilling to put their trust in strangers, no matter whether Tregloyne vouched for him or not. Grunts were the usual response to his attempts at conversation, and when it wasn’t grunts it was Cornish, which was worse.
He didn’t force things, and instead let his company speak for him. Shasha spent part of every day in the village, administering tonics and tinctures and dressing wounds and splinting the occasional broken limb. Alaric had hired two of the more likely Glynnow lads to help him maintain their small armory, and had begun to teach them how to use a small sword, which, when they went back to the village and told the tale, had the entire male population of the village there the next day. Tiphaine was ever attended by a covey of small children who wanted to learn to juggle, and after a while she started teaching them songs from Wu Company’s repertoire.
Dana sez–
And what’s Johanna doing? Well, let’s just say Dick Francis would approve.
Speaking as one who lives in the beautiful ancient County of Cornwall ….. I think I probably agree 😉 not the easiest tongue to master…
[laughing] I’ve visited there (one of the most gorgeous coastlines I’ve ever seen) and heard Cornish spoken a few times. And then they saw my expression and took pity on me and reverted to English.