When it hit her body, Eva cringed, trying hard to hold back the shout threatening to spill forth from her mouth. The sting was unbearable, bringing tears to her eyes.
“Stop!” shouted Adam, coming forward with Timothy at his side. “The Boy Bishop is in charge today and makes all the decisions.”
“He can’t stop an age-old tradition,” growled Blaxton.
“Mayhap not, but he certainly can change it,” replied Adam. “Timothy, go ahead and tell everyone your decision about the beating of the children on the Feast Day of the Holy Innocents.”
The boy stepped forward and started to speak, but the crowd became restless.
“We can’t hear him,” shouted someone from the back of the crowd.
“We can’t see him,” yelled someone else.
“Up you go, Timmy,” said Adam, raising the boy up onto his shoulder. “How’s that?” yelled Adam.
“Go ahead, Timmy,” said Eva with a tremble to her voice. “And be sure to speak up so everyone can hear you.”
Adam was ready to draw his sword and strike down the fool who ripped Eva’s gown and made her bleed with his whip. Yet, he said nothing, because Eva’s heroic action would gain her respect amongst the servants and peasants and he didn’t want to take that away from her.
Timmy looked out at the crowd and talked as loudly as he could. “As Boy Bishop of the day, I declare that instead of the children being beaten or whipped, Sir Adam will tickle each of them until they beg for mercy.”
The guards grumbled and the mothers of the children sighed in relief. The knights laughed heartily as this announcement.
“You heard him,” said Adam, putting the boy on the ground. “Now, all boys line up in front of me and don’t waste any time. Who is first?”
The rush of children to Adam was so overwhelming, that he almost fell to the ground. Then one by one, he took each of the boys and tickled them until they could laugh no more. Finally, when it was all over, he made his way to Eva and pulled her into his arms.
“Are you all right?” he asked, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I am now that you saved the children from being hurt.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Thank you, Adam.”
“Let me see your wound.” He turned her around to look at the rip in her gown. A red, raised welt from the whip was showing against her skin. “I’ll kill that bastard for hurting you,” he said with a clenched jaw.
“Nay, don’t, Adam. The guard was only doing his job. But I thank you for stepping in to help the children. You are amazing.”
To Adam’s surprise, Eva reached up and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“You are the one who sacrificed yourself to help them,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “You should feel proud of what you did.”
Her long lashes blinked away more tears. “I think I’ll see the healer now and then take a long bath before the meal.”
“Be sure to have the healer use my comfrey salve on you,” he told her. “And by the way, I’ve talked to Timmy. Since he makes the decisions on this day, he’s told me what he wants to eat.”
“What’s that?” she asked, flashing a small smile.
“He said he wants a Collie Bird pie.”
“Collie Bird? Oh, Adam, that sounds terrible,” Eva said with a groan, thinking about the hideous blackbirds. Those calling birds always woke her in the mornings when all she wanted to do was sleep.
“Don’t worry, I have something planned that will please everyone,” Adam assured her. “Now, hurry and get cleaned up because I’ll have a feast waiting for you when you return.”
* * *
Two hours later, Eva was feeling much better. After soaking in a bath and changing her clothes, she felt like a new woman. Actually, it was the comfrey salve that Adam had given the healer that gave her the most relief. In just that short time, her skin was already beginning to heal.
She sat at the dais alongside her father and grandmother as well as the Boy Bishop, awaiting Adam’s promised surprise. Since her father had awoken and his fever broke, she decided she should bring him down to the great hall to be seen by his people. Too many were becoming suspicious, and she had to assure them that her father was still of sound mind and body and capable of ruling Cavendish, even if he wasn’t.
The food procession started, and the music resounded though the great hall. To her surprise, Adam led the line, carrying a large pie in his hands. Her stomach clenched already. She didn’t want to eat blackbirds. It didn’t sound at all appealing.
“My lady,” said Adam. “Here is the Collie Bird pie that’s been requested by the Boy Bishop.”
“Aye,” said Timmy excitedly, getting up on his knees on the chair to get a better view of the pie. It was huge and covered with a crust on top that barely looked cooked. The pie itself was lumpy and she swore the wretched-looking thing was moving.
“My lady, will you please cut the pie?” Adam laid the pie in front of her. Hilt first, he handed her a dull knife, resting it over his arm.
“Nay, I don’t want to do it,” she said, shaking her head and lifting a hand in the air to ward him away.
“Then allow me to do it for you,” said Adam, turning the knife around. He lifted up the pie to let everyone in the great hall see it. Then he turned back to Eva and carefully and slowly, tapped the top of the crust with the flat end of the knife. When the crust was broken, Eva jumped back in alarm and held her hand to her heart. To her surprise, live blackbirds flew out of the pie and headed up to land in the rafters.
She was shocked, relieved, and amazed, all at the same time. Breaking loose with all her emotions she had been holding back lately, she laughed harder than she ever had in her life.
“Sir Adam, you are the best cook we’ve ever had at Cavendish and I admire you and everything you do,” she told Adam.
“Thank you, my lady.” Adam put down the empty pie shell and knife and reached out for her. “Thank you, very much.” He kissed the back of her hand, letting the kiss linger. And then he looked up into her eyes and smiled right before he kissed her hand again, letting his tongue shoot out to lick her.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking around nervously, hoping no one saw him. Her father laughed heartily at the birds and slapped his left hand atop the table. Timmy stood on the chair with his arms over his head trying to reach the birds. Even her grandmother had a grin on her face.
Eva’s eyes met Adam’s and within his gaze she felt as if she’d truly lost her heart to him now. This was only the fourth day of Christmas, but she was already dreading Twelfth Night when he would step out of her kitchen and leave her life forever. That, she didn’t think she could ever bear.
Chapter 7
Golden Rings, Geese and Swans
The next three days were a blur to Eva. She had been spending more and more time with Sir Adam and every day seemed to be more memorable than the last. He went out of his way to please her, not only with food, but also by treating her honorably, as Lady of the Castle.
Adam escorted her to church each day, and even to town to check on the tenants. They spent time riding in the brisk, cool air, and he even walked with her atop the battlements when she checked on the garrison to make sure things were in order.
Everyone was happier than ever this Yuletide season, and she had Sir Adam to thank for it all. Not since her mother was alive had the food tasted so delicious. She only wished her father’s health would improve because Twelfth Night was approaching quickly and the king would be here before she knew it.
“Do you have that missive written yet to the king?” asked her grandmother from the other side of Eva’s bedchamber.
“I’m not sure what to write.” Eva stared at the blank parchment in front of her as she held a feather quill in her hand. The bottle of ink sat on the table but she had yet to use it.
“Tell him that it isn’t advisable that he comes to Cavendish at this time,” said Lady Barbara, staring out the open window. “Make up something. Use me as an
excuse if you have to, but do it. You can tell him I’ve come down with a horrible illness and the healer doesn’t think the king should come near for fear he’ll be stricken with it as well.”
“I don’t know,” said Eva, tapping the end of the quill on the table in thought. “I don’t want to keep lying, Grandmother. What if the king finds out there is nothing wrong with you? Suppose he summons our healer.”
“That is why we pay the healer large sums of money,” said Lady Barbara. “To keep his mouth shut. Now, don’t wait another minute or it’ll be too late. Write the missive at once and send a messenger to the king so it’ll stop him from showing up at our doorstep in a sennight.”
“It doesn’t feel right.” Eva put down the quill. “Mayhap there is another way to save Father from being stripped of his title and to save his castle and lands.”
“You know as well as I that the king won’t have an earl who cannot even lift a sword.” Lady Barbara closed the shutter. “My son will be demoralized and lose everything. Do you want that to happen to your father as well as us? We’ll end up living like paupers in a shack made of wattle and daub before this is all over.”
“I suppose you’re right. We can’t have that.” Eva sighed and picked up her quill and dipped it into the ink. “I’ll write the missive and send it to the king.”
“That’s good,” said Lady Barbara, thumping her cane against the floor as she hobbled to the door. “I am going to check on your father. He has been asking to join in the festivities – or at least I think that’s what he’s saying. Between his slurred speech and his addlepated comments lately, I’m not sure what he wants.”
“All right, Grandmother. I’ll be there later.”
As soon as her grandmother left, Eva wrote the missive that she really didn’t want to write. After she finished, she blew on the ink to dry it and read it over silently to herself. She would have to find the messenger and send the missive off to the king without further delay.
“Lady Eva?” came a deep voice from the door.
She looked up in surprise to see Adam peeking into the room though he still stood in the corridor.
“Sir Adam! What are you doing here?”
“I knocked several times but I guess you didn’t hear me. May I come in?”
“I – of course,” she said, hurriedly folding the parchment and depositing it into the small chest atop the table, slamming down the lid. She didn’t have time to seal the missive with wax and stamp it with the earl’s signet ring, but she would attend to that later.
“Oh, I see you were busy writing.” Adam sauntered into the room, seeming very curious as to what she was doing. “Whom were you writing to?”
“It’s not important,” she said, jumping up from her chair. “What was it you wanted?” Eva purposely stood in front of the chest, blocking his view with her body.
“I came to escort you to the wassailing that will start in the orchard momentarily.” His eyes seemed to be focused on the table behind her.
“Aye, let’s go. My cloak is on the hook if you’d be kind enough to get it for me.”
“Of course, my lady,” he said with a slight bow. He retrieved the cloak and headed back to help her don it. “We’ll have to stop in the great hall first where the Wassail King and Queen will be chosen by the Lord of Misrule to lead the procession.”
“Of course,” she said, seeing him eye the table with the missive once more before they headed out the door.
As soon as they got down to the great hall, Adam left Eva for a moment, making his way through the crowd to talk to his squire.
“Bryce,” he said, pulling his squire aside. The boy had been singing and dancing and, of course, drinking and flirting with the lovely ladies in the room.
“What is it?” asked Bryce, walking over and dipping his wooden cup into the large wassail bowl to refill it. Wassail was a hot cider mixed with wine. The drink was infused with spices such as cinnamon, ginger, and nutmeg, and had roasted crab apples floating atop it. Around the large bowl on the table were sops, or toasted pieces of bread that were normally soaked in the liquid and then eaten.
“Did you pay the Lord of Misrule the money so he will choose Lady Eva and myself as the Queen and King of the Wassail?” he asked.
“Aye, I certainly did, my lord.” Bryce brought the cup to his mouth, took a sip, and smacked his lips in satisfaction. “Did you find out anything yet about the –” he leaned in closer and whispered. “The mission?”
Adam smelled whisky on the boy’s breath. It was obvious his squire had been spiking the wassail bowl.
“Mayhap,” he answered. “I found out the earl never wrote a missive on the Feast Day of the Holy Innocents. The parchment was blank. And I also caught Lady Eva writing a missive in her chamber just now. I was going to ask you to sneak in and read it. But in your condition, I think it best that I do the job myself.”
“To your health,” said Bryce with a huge smile, lifting his cup in the air and staggering back a step.
The straight trumpet sounded and the Lord of Misrule jumped up onto a bench and raised his hand in the air to get everyone’s attention. Adam hurried back to Eva’s side.
“And now, for the choosing of the King and Queen of the Wassail,” said the boy. “I choose Lady Eva and Sir Adam.”
The crowd cheered and clapped.
“Me?” asked Eva, seeming shocked by the announcement. “Nay, choose someone else.”
“Nonsense, my lady. You’ll make a fine Queen of the Wassail.” Adam took her by the arm and escorted her to the front of the processional line.
“Nay, Adam. I don’t think I should. My father believes this is a pagan custom and he wouldn’t like it if he knew that I was acting as queen of the celebration.”
“Then we won’t tell him, will we?” Adam dipped a wooden cup into the wassail bowl, placing a sop on top. Then he took hold of her arm. “To the orchard, my good queen, where we will pay homage to the apple trees to awaken them, and sing and dance to scare away the evil spirits. Then, there will be no doubt that next year you’ll have a good harvest.”
“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” she mumbled as he led her to the door.
“You’ll ride with me, my queen,” he said, escorting her to the stable.
“Ride? Where are we going?” she asked in confusion. “The orchard is inside the castle walls.”
“Aye, but today we’re going to celebrate in your father’s larger orchard outside the walls. The villeins and serfs will join us.”
After a short ride to the orchard, the singing and dancing began. Adam dismounted, holding on to the cup of wassail as he helped her dismount. The musicians had followed and the serfs and villeins came out of their houses to join in the celebration. Everyone lined up at the back of a wagon where the servants served them wassail from a large wooden tub.
“Have some wassail and loosen up, my lady,” said Adam, bringing the cup to her mouth. He didn’t tell her that Bryce had spiked the wassail bowl, but she didn’t need to know. After much drinking of the wassail, singing and dancing around the trees, as was custom, Adam lifted Eva up into the branches of one of the apple trees.
“Put me down,” she said, laughing because of all the wassail she’d drunk. “What are you doing?”
“You know as well as I that the Wassail Queen must place a piece of toast that’s been dipped in wassail into the tree as an offering. He handed her the soggy piece of bread from his cup.
“Oh, all right,” she said, reaching up to place the bread in the boughs of the tree. Someone recited a fertility incantation and then the music started up again as the procession headed back to the castle. “Can I come down from here now?” asked Eva.
“Of course, my queen.” Adam took her in his arms and held her off the ground with her head on one side and her feet on the other.
“I’m not a queen, so stop saying that,” she told him.
“You are queen for the day and will forever be a queen in my eyes.” H
e held her in his arms, staring into her beautiful eyes.
“You can release me now,” she said, gazing into his eyes as well and doing nothing to try to get free.
“Not yet,” he told her, bending over, pressing his lips up against hers.
Eva’s head spun and she felt very dizzy as Adam touched his lips to hers in a sensuous, sweet kiss. He tasted like cinnamon, apples, and if she wasn’t mistaken . . . whisky. She liked the kiss and no longer cared that someone might be watching and start gossip about them. Feeling relaxed from the wassail and happy for being with Adam, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him in return.
“Mayhap, we shouldn’t have kissed,” she said shyly. “I mean, there is no kissing bough hanging over our heads.”
Adam’s eyes flashed upward. “Does a sop of wassail bread count?” he asked with a chuckle.
“I don’t think so. Kissing is only allowed under the mistletoe.”
“Well, my lady, you are my mistletoe, and always will be. So I supposed it counts after all.”
“If you say so,” she answered with a giggle. “And you are my chain mail.”
“Chain mail? Is that your new pet name for me now?”
“You were wearing chain mail when I first met you,” she reminded him. “And since you called me Mistletoe, I think it is only fair I call you Chain Mail in return.”
“Fair enough,” he said, kissing her once more before gently placing her on her feet. “Now, we’re off to the great hall where I’ve prepared another feast in your honor. It is New Year’s Eve, my lady, and I have a remarkable surprise in store for you.”
“What more could you possibly cook?” Eva asked as they headed to the horse. “You’ve already amazed me by creating those outstanding golden rings of Bryndon.” Eva’s mouth watered just thinking of the fried rings of cake filled with figs, dates, and pine nuts. The cakes were colored with saffron to make them look gold, and drizzled with wine and honey.
“Was the Bryndon to your liking?” he asked, lifting her into the saddle.
Merry Medieval Christmas Page 6
