by Speer, Flora
“Perhaps you should,” Adam told her, but not unkindly. “Sometimes the reward is worth any risk.”
The journey homeward was slowed by the need to carry the tarpaulin of greens slung between two horses, and by the effort of dragging the Yule log across the snow. It was too large and too heavy to carry.
“You don’t think small, do you, Blaise?” remarked Aline when she first saw the log. “That thing must be six feet long and four feet in diameter. But will it burn if it’s green wood?”
“Ah, there’s the secret,” said Blaise. “A year ago, the tree was alive, but it did not leaf last spring, so I noted it in my memory for Christmastime. It should be dry enough by now to burn easily.”
“What a good idea,” murmured Connie. “How clever you are, Blaise.”
“I thought so,” said Blaise. “Here, let me help you mount. How did you get so dirty?” With a smile he wiped a bit of mud off Connie’s cheek.
“I’ll tell you as we ride home,” she said. “And after, you must tell me how you cut down the tree.”
“I am forced to confess, I did not do all the cutting myself,” Blaise began.
“Aline, are you ready to mount?” Adam put his hands on her waist. “Will you ride before or behind me? You will be warmer in my arms.”
“I will be safer riding behind you.”
“There’s naught to fear from me today, my lady. It’s Christmas Eve and I am still fasting.” He lifted her to sit in front of him, then mounted himself. “As for what I may do once the religious services are over, I make no promises.”
They ate bread and cheese and drank cider at midday, finishing the sketchy meal quickly so they could start the decorating. Before long the great hall was festooned with evergreen and holly, and mistletoe was hung at every doorway. Connie twisted branches of holly together with the ivy she had gathered, to lay along the tables as centerpieces.
Then it was time to drag in the Yule log. It was heavy work pulling it up the narrow outside stairs. Ropes were attached to it and while some men pulled, others pushed from below. It was considered good luck to help in this endeavor, so every person at Shotley Castle was eager to lend a hand. Having taken a tug or two at the rope, Aline stepped aside to let others pull the log up the last few steps.
Still garbed in hose and tunic, she stood in the entry hall watching and thinking how closely the scene resembled the December painting in Gramps’ Book of Hours. It needed only a lady in a green gown sitting by the nearer fireplace to duplicate the picture she remembered so vividly. She wondered if Lady Judith had ever sat there with her own Book of Hours.
Slowly, nobles and ordinary folk together dragged the log upward and into the entry hall. Even Connie took a turn, smiling prettily when Blaise warned her not to chafe her hands on the rope. When the Yule log was pulled into the great hall, to Aline’s surprise it was not put into the fireplace at once, but only placed in front of it.
“Aren’t you going to burn it?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Adam told her. “Not until tomorrow.”
Once the log was where Adam wanted it, a flurry of activity ensued. The mud and snow tracked in with the log was cleaned up. The tables were set for a feast with heavy linen cloths, Connie’s holly and ivy garlands, and brightly polished silver plates, cups and serving pieces. Folk who sat below the salt, who on other days had only a slice of day-old bread for a plate, tonight would eat from wooden plates and drink from the wooden cups the nobles usually used.
Finally, it was time to prepare for the midnight church service. The men took themselves off to the bathhouse beside the bailey wall, while Connie and Aline were indulged with tubs of hot water in their own rooms. At Connie’s insistence, Aline accepted the loan of a dress. Of deep blue silk and only a little too short for her, it was made with a plain rounded neckline and loose, flowing sleeves. Beneath it she wore a thin white woolen underdress and a linen shift. There was a belt of jeweled, gilded leather to be worn about her hips.
“The color is beautiful with your black hair,” Connie told her, offering a gold mesh net set with sparkling stones. “Let me help you to gather your hair into this.”
Connie’s own dress was bright green, with a narrow band of gold thread at the neckline. Her golden-brown braids were pinned earmuff style at the sides of her head; around her throat lay a gold chain set with amethysts.
“Blaise told me it was his mother’s,” Connie said. “He has never given me a gift before, not since our wedding day, but he was obliged to give me something then. This necklace he gave me because he wanted to please me.”
“It’s beautiful, and very becoming,” Aline said, wondering why Connie did not look happy. She soon learned why.
“I am afraid,” Connie confided. “After giving me a gift of such value, Blaise will no doubt want to – I mean, he will expect – oh dear.”
“Connie, have you ever considered the possibility that if you were to show a little enthusiasm, what Blaise wants to do might turn out to be fun?”
“No.” Connie was close to tears. “I have never thought of it as fun.”
“Perhaps you should. After all, you didn’t want to put on boys’ clothing and go out into the forest today, but when you did, you admitted that you enjoyed it.”
There was no time to say more. They were expected in the great hall. There, the assembled household awaited them. With Adam and Aline, Blaise and Connie leading the way, they marched in solemn procession out of the hall, down the outside steps and across the bailey in heavily falling snow to the chapel for midnight Mass. Everyone who lived in or near the castle was there, the chapel so crowded that some latecomers had to stand outside the door and strain to hear Father John’s words.
At first Aline felt like an intruder. Then she told herself that since Gramps had been an Englishman, she was a direct spiritual descendant of these people. With a full heart and in sincere humility she stayed by Adam’s side, where he had said he wanted her to be, kneeling when he knelt, standing when he stood, until the lengthy service was over.
But the festivities were just beginning. No one at Shotley had eaten or drunk a thing since the light repast at midday. Now it was time for the first of the Christmas feasts. It had all been prepared beforehand. They started with the oysters Adam had brought home from London. Then it was on to a roasted side of beef, cold meat pies, cakes dripping with honey and nuts, cheeses, beer, wine, cider, perry
“Now do we light the Yule log?” Aline asked.
“Not until later,” Adam said. “First, we have another Mass at daylight.”
Aline slept only an hour or two that night and was up at first light, which was not actually very early because of the late midwinter rising of the sun. There was no sun that Christmas day, for a blizzard had begun. It mattered not at all to the inhabitants of Shotley Castle. Inside the stone walls all was torchlight and firelight and merriment.
In late morning the great Christmas feast began. There were so many courses of roasted meat, oblong meat pies, stewed meats with vegetables, fine white bread made especially for this day, wine, and sweets that Aline soon lost track of all she had eaten. There was even a whole roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. Connie had told her when she protested about the sheer volume of food that the scraps, along with extra food that Adam had ordered prepared for the purpose, would be handed out at the castle gate to any beggars who appeared there.
“But I do not think many souls will be abroad today,” Connie added. “The weather is too unpleasant.”
When the long meal was over and the afternoon was drawing toward evening, Adam rose from the high table. With Blaise, Connie, and Aline following him, he went to the Yule log. Amid much laughter, Adam sat down on the log. There he told a joke about a knight in battle that brought tears of laughter to everyone’s eyes except for Aline, who did not understand the punch line. But she laughed politely and then applauded when Blaise took Adam’s place sitting on the log and recited a story. Next it was Connie’s turn. She sa
ne a little song in a surprisingly sweet voice, and actually smiled at her husband when Blaise joined in the last line.
“Now you, Aline,” Adam said, taking her hand and pulling her over to the log. “Before we can light it, everyone here must tell a story or a jest, or sing a song.”
“But I don’t know any stories. And I sing badly.”
“You may not be excused,” Adam told her with mock severity. “If you do not perform, you will bring bad luck upon our house.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to do that, after you’ve been so nice to me,” she said. “Just remember, I did warn you about my voice.” She launched into “The Twelve Days Of Christmas.” By the time she got to the five golden rings, everyone was singing along with her, enjoying the repetition of verses. Her performance ended on a burst of applause.
“Next, the captain of the guard,” Blaise called out, and a burley, bearded man took Aline’s place on the log.
After everyone in the great hall finally finished sitting on the Yule log, it was rolled into the fireplace where, at last, with a ceremonial flourish and shouted wishes for good fortune in the coming year for all who dwelt at Shotley Castle, Adam lit it. There was little question that it would burn, since there were already other, smaller logs ablaze in the fireplace and a good supply of kindling had also been heaped around the Yule log to make certain it would catch fire.
A short time later, Adam pushed his way through the crowd to Aline’s side.
“Look there,” he said, turning her so she could see Blaise and Connie standing under the arch at the entrance to the hall. As they watched, Blaise took his wife’s face between his hands and kissed her. And, wonder of wonders, Connnie’s arms crept around his waist.
“Do you think it’s aught we’ve done?” asked Adam. “Or is it the spirit of the holiday? Or, perhaps, an excess of wine?”
“Does the cause matter?” She met his eyes. “So long as they are in agreement, let us not question why.”
“And we?” he murmured. “Are we in agreement?”
“On what, my lord?”
“Aline, do not play the coy maiden with me. I am not a young knight, willing to sigh and smile and whisper sweet words and await a lady’s beckoning. I am a grown man and I know what I want. I believe you also know what you want.”
Unable to maintain such intense eye contact with him any longer, she looked away toward the arch.
“Where did Blaise and Connie go?” she asked. “I don’t see them anywhere.”
“No doubt they have gone where you and I should go,” he said. “To bed. Together.”
“That’s certainly blunt.”
“I am no poet, to sing you pretty songs.”
She had no answer for that. She saw the burning desire in his eyes and she wanted to respond to it. Before she could say anything, the castle folk surrounded them.
“Lord Adam, you’ve not yet kissed your guest,” a woman cried. “Under the mistletoe with you!”
There was no way to escape the well-meaning women who now pushed Aline toward the archway, nor the men who urged Adam to join her there. With servants and stableboys and men-at-arms looking on, Adam took Aline into his arms beneath the mistletoe…and slowly bent his head to her…and kissed her quickly and sweetly.
An instant later, a young man trying to juggle five dirty wooden plates he had seized from the nearest table captured the fickle attention of the merry throng and all returned to the great hall, save for Adam and Aline, who remained beneath the arch.
“Lady?” His hands were still on her shoulders. The question in his eyes was unchanged. He must have seen the answer in Aline’s gaze, for he swept her off her feet and into his arms and carried her up the curving stone staircase.
“Adam,” she protested weakly, “everyone will know what we’re doing.”
“What do I care?” he demanded with all the fine distain of the lord of the castle for lesser beings. “What do you care?
”Besides,” he went on, kicking open a wooden door and then kicking it shut again behind them, “they will never notice we’ve gone. They have their food and drink and their games to entertain them. Here in my chamber, no one will disturb us.”
“If I were one of them,” she said as he laid her upon a huge, curtained bed, “I would notice if you were gone.”
“Notice instead that we are here, alone together, and the door is now bolted.” He suited action to his words before returning to the bed, pulling off his belt and his tunic on the way. Then his hands were in her hair, the golden net was cast aside, and a flood of dusky curls cascaded over his fingers.
“Yes,” he murmured, “just as I imagined it.” He pressed her backward until she was lying beneath him. His kiss was deep and demanding. Aline answered it with rapidly rising desire. When he finished, he pulled away from her only long enough to remove her gown and underdress. Quickly his large lands traced the outline of her breasts against her shift. Through the sheer linen he kissed the tip of one breast. His hands moved lower, caught the hem of her shift, and began to pull it upward. She cried out at the roughness of his palms against the sensitive skin of her upper thigh.
“Aline,” he said with a groan, “tell me true; are you yet a virgin?”
“No,” she whispered. “I am so sorry, but no.”
“Do not regret it. I only asked because I don’t want to hurt you through ignorance. I have no taste for frightened girls. I need a full-grown, hot-blooded woman to satisfy me.”
“At the moment, Adam, I do feel hot-blooded.”
He moved away to divest himself of the last of his clothing while she watched him through half-lowered eyelids. He knelt above her, a broad-chested man with a mat of dark hair that narrowed across his flat belly. She saw the scar along his leg, the old battle wound he claimed warned him of coming bad weather. She did not have long to consider it, for she was immediately presented with the proud evidence of his need for her. She opened her arms to him and pulled him close, and when she felt him pushing against her, she lifted her hips to meet and accept him. His cry of passionate pleasure was echoed by the sigh on her lips.
He grasped her tightly and pounded into her, shaking the bed with the force of his mighty thrusts. And Aline, having once sworn that she would never again lie with a man, forgot all of her resolutions and gave herself up completely to his desire and her own. For she did want him, had wanted him since the first moment when she saw him clearly, standing in the great hall in his chain mail. He was all she had ever dreamed of in a lover, fierce and demanding, but tender, too, and he did not let her go until she lay sobbing in his arms, satisfied as she had never been satisfied before.
* * *
Sometime during the night Adam rose to pour wine for both of them and to put more charcoal on the twin braziers that warmed his room, before he rejoined her under the quilts.
“You claim to have no male relative,” he said, sitting beside her with the winecup in his hand. “Is your mother still alive, or have you a guardian? Who shall I ask for your hand in marriage?”
Aline nearly dropped her winecup, until she realized it was inevitable that he should be curious about her. So far he had been remarkably forbearing, asking only a few questions about her origins and how she had come to Shotley. As for wanting to marry her, well, he would change his mind when he knew all there was to know. The thought made her sad.
“My only living relative is a sister,” she said.
“Then your brother-in-law is your guardian.”
“I have no guardian.” Trying to delay an explanation she thought he wouldn’t believe, she said, “Adam, I should have told you before we made love. This may make a difference to you. I am a divorced woman.”
It was his turn to clutch at his winecup. His face grim, he drank deeply.
“For what reason were you divorced?” he asked. “I find it hard to believe that you would commit adultery. Are you barren, then? If that was the cause, it would not matter to me. I have no strong desire to see small c
hildren in the nursery here, except for grandchildren.”
“I don’t know if I can have a child or not. I never had the chance to find out. My husband didn’t want children.” She had to say it. He deserved to be told. “He left me for a younger woman. He was generous about it; he let me divorce him.”
“Generous? To hurt you so badly?” he shouted. “Desire for another woman is not an acceptable reason for divorce. Only adultery, or a too-close blood relationship that is not discovered until after the wedding has taken place – or, occasionally, bareness, are reasons for so serious a step. Why did you not fight it through the church?”
“The church had nothing to do with it,” she said. “It was a civil matter.”
“I do not understand.”
“Neither do I.” She hesitated, then plunged on. “Adam, I know how Connie felt before I came here, because I don’t have anyone to talk to, either. And, like Connie, I have to tell someone. I swear that what I am going to say is the truth. I am trusting you with my life.”
“You can trust me,” he said. “I will not reveal your confidences.”
“First, I want you to know that I wouldn’t believe what I’m going to tell you if it hadn’t happened to me. If it weren’t still happening to me.” She looked right into his eyes and said, “By a means I do not understand, I came here to Shotley from another time and another place. I was sitting in a library, looking at a Book of Hours. I glanced up to the library window and saw the falling snow. Within the blink of an eye I was standing on the road to Shotley Castle, and you and your men were about to ride me down.”
“Some magic has been worked on you.” He rose from the bed. Putting down his winecup, he began to prowl about the room, a magnificent, firm-muscled man in the prime of life. “Do you know who would want to place you under an enchantment? Perhaps, your former husband?”
“I would be very surprised if he ever thinks of me.” She got out of bed, too. “Adam, where I come from, we don’t believe in magic.”
