Brewer's Tale, The

by Brooks, Karen

  ‘About the profits?’ Adam was most perplexed I’d discuss these openly.

  ‘About Tobias. Let them know there’ll be an extra mouth to feed.’

  Dragging him forward, I doused the cresset lamp and extinguished the candles on the way out. ‘Come along, I can’t dally, I’ve beer to make.’

  ‘Two mouths,’ he added as we entered the hall.

  ‘What?’ Using the doorframe as a pivot, I spun around. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You can’t forget Sir Leander,’ said Adam.

  I held his gaze a moment longer, before walking slowly down the passage to the kitchen, the spring gone from my step.

  Adam was right. As much as I might try. Damn him, I could not.

  TWENTY-THREE

  HOLCROFT HOUSE

  Christmas Day

  The year of Our Lord 1405 in the seventh year of the reign of Henry IV

  The day that followed was one of great joy and perplexity. After attending mass at St Bartholomew’s and making sure the tenant farmers received their allotted fish, meat and vegetables for their table, we spent the rest of the morning preparing for our Christmastide feast, one which we would all, including Father Clement and Captain Stoyan, share. For years, Father Clement had joined our family in celebrating Christ’s birth and I didn’t want this year to be any different.

  At midday, we left Blanche in the kitchen and walked into town to St Stephen’s to hear Abbot Hubbard give the mass. The church was so full many had to stand in the snow outside. Westel and Will ran ahead and reserved us places, so we were able to squeeze our way through the crowd and between the columns towards the area allocated to wealthier townsfolk. Curt nods and frowns greeted our arrival followed by murmurs of disapproval and some louder than necessary sniffs. My cheeks grew hot and Betje’s grip on my hand tightened. Not far ahead of us, I saw Betrix with her parents. The mayor stood with a gentleman who I recognised as Master Underwood, Lord Rainford’s seneschal. Lord Rainford was spending Christmas with the king at Westminster.

  As the abbot ascended the pulpit, the crowd grew quiet. The chandeliers smoked as did the censors swinging from the rafters, dusting us all with their opaque scent, though it was not enough to completely mask the other odours so many people huddled together produced. Above me, the stone pillars disappeared into the vaulted ceiling, and I imagined colonies of cherubs sitting in the corners, chuckling at the humans compressed so tightly together to worship their Father on this bitterly cold day. Muffled coughs and a wave of movement that pushed me forward brought my thoughts back to earth. Behind me someone sneezed. A child giggled and was quickly hushed. In front of the parishioners, the altar glowed in the flickering lights of candles and cresset lamps: golden goblets, crosses, the bejewelled container carrying the host and the huge open Bible sat upon the white linen. The deacons and other brothers from St Jude’s and surrounding parishes took up their positions. Among them were Brothers Osbert and Marcus, their benign spiritual roles belying my previous encounters with them. Outside, the snow fell steadily; the uneven grey light coming through the stained glass refracted into tiny, precious rainbows of colour which fell upon the heads of those around me.

  As Abbot Hubbard’s dulcet tones took wing among the soaring columns and curving arches, I found myself curious about this tall, well-fed man with pale, almost silver hair who spoke with both authority and barely repressed indifference about the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. Chopping the air with his hand, Abbot Hubbard stared through one of the stained-glass windows, his mind seeming to drift away from us. Once, he might have been described as handsome; remnants of his beauty were evident in his fine nose and high cheekbones, but age and good living had added jowls and heavily pouched eyes. As the choir sang and he broke the bread and supped upon Christ’s blood, I prayed to my Lord to forgive me what the abbot could not.

  A sudden movement from behind jolted me. Thrust forwards, I collided with Will.

  ‘I thought it was you,’ hissed a voice in my ear.

  ‘Tobias!’ I tempered my voice just in time, but my heart leapt. Spinning around at his name, the twins, who were on either side of me, squealed and were immediately hushed.

  Tobias lifted Betje into his arms, and she strangled his neck. Karel hugged his legs and if it hadn’t been for Sir Leander’s timely arrival at his back, he would have toppled.

  ‘God’s good day and a merry Christmas, Mistress Sheldrake,’ said Sir Leander softly, sliding between Tobias and me. As he bent down to whisper, his mouth brushed my earlobe.

  A wave of heat that had nothing to do with the crush of people swept over me.

  ‘Merry Christmas, my lord,’ I replied, my voice foreign, twisting my head slightly, only to find his lips inches from my own. My eyes dropped to that mouth, so full, so firm. Blushing, I raised my eyes to find his locked onto mine.

  Time contracted in the tiny space in which we were trapped. I was no longer aware of the crowd, of the sermon, or even of the twins or Tobias, All that existed was Sir Leander and those cerulean eyes and that mouth. Unable to move, to think, it was only another push, this time from Saskia, that brought me to my senses.

  ‘Thank the Lord that’s over,’ said Saskia, a little too loudly. Frowns and some laughter washed over us.

  Caught in the tide of people leaving the cathedral, it wasn’t until we were outside, the cold nipping our flesh, that we were able to find one another again, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Westel since we entered.

  Just as I was about to ask Adam where he was, Westel rounded the corner of the building, his cheeks red, his cap askew. Before I could ask where he’d been, the twins tugged at my arms.

  ‘Come on, Anneke. Hurry up.’ Karel jumped up and down.

  ‘I’m getting cold.’ Betje’s teeth started to chatter.

  The contrast between the church and outside was harsh. Questions flew out of my mind as the twins led me away, though I did remember to introduce Westel to my brother and his master. Overwhelmed, he kept his face down, his cap low, and mumbled greetings.

  To the ringing of bells and the joyful strains of carols, we walked home quickly, the wind blowing flakes of snow into flurries around our ankles, catching our cloaks and whipping them aside, allowing the air to grip like an iron vice. Increasing our pace, we laughed at nature’s attempts to cool our excited spirits.

  If there weren’t as many calling out greetings as last year, or if those who turned aside before I could offer good cheer left me a little deflated, I chose not to dwell upon it. Not today. Tobias was here. No-one and nothing could spoil Christmas. I linked arms with my brother and, with Westel leading the way, the twins skipping at our heels and Sir Leander escorting Saskia while Adam accompanied Iris and Louisa, I chose to thank the good Lord for sending me this day and everything that came with it.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind,’ whispered Tobias. ‘But I told Sir Leander he was welcome to join us. His father and brother are with the king at Westminster, so …’

  ‘Of course,’ I said quickly, the tinder in my heart catching fire.

  Twenty minutes later, divested of coats, hoods and gloves, we entered Holcroft House, the servants scattering at once to their tasks. It was left to me to escort our guests inside.

  Draped with ivy and other greenery that Adam and Will had cut from the forests, the hall looked festive. A huge fire roared in the hearth with the logs we’d added before mass. Trestle tables covered with white linen ran down one side of the room, the stools and benches tucked beneath. A pearly daylight streamed through the windows, but even so, we lowered the chandelier by its rope, lit the candles and then hoisted it up again. Around the room, more candles were lit, including the large Yule one that sat in the centre of the table. The scents of pine and cloves made the smoky air sharp and alive. As Sir Leander entered, Blanche clapped her hands in delight and, before I could prevent it, grabbed a stool, put it in the centre of the room and urged him to stand upon it.

  ‘I need the tallest man here, my
lord. And that’s you,’ she said. ‘If you’re able,’ she added, glancing uncertainly at his leg.

  ‘If I can fight for king and country and sail the oceans, I can surely attend to this,’ he laughed.

  With goodwill, he mounted carefully, handing his walking stick to Saskia as Blanche passed him the mistletoe. The twins chased the hounds around the table, testing Will, who was trying to place the goblets, mazers and spoons. Iris and Louisa narrowly avoided Karel as they carried in trays replete with trenchers of bread, tureens of rich gravy and bowls of hot fruity sauces, while Blanche followed with a plate upon which reclined a huge steamed sturgeon. When Iris and Blanche returned with a large bowl brimming with wassail, cups were quickly found and the rich, heated spiced wine was passed around. With a heave-ho, Westel and Adam added another huge log to the fire, sending sparks flying up the chimney and into the room as they leapt out of the way, laughing and brushing their hands together. The dogs began barking at Westel, Achilles’s teeth bared. Westel froze while Adam tried to restrain them. Father Clement chose that moment to arrive, beaming at us all and bestowing blessings upon the house. A cheer was raised, and, Westel forgotten, the dogs raced towards the good father, Adam capturing them before they could pounce. Dragging them outside, he tossed them a bone and shut the door.

  The bell to the shop rang loudly and Will darted down the corridor, reappearing with Captain Stoyan, who clutched two large jugs of what I guessed was beer and a flagon of Gascony wine. More greetings were given and happy chatter flowed.

  Tobias took my fingers in his and called everyone to the table. Seating me in the centre, he sat to my right and invited Sir Leander to sit on my left. Captain Stoyan beside him and Father Clement next to Tobias. Delighted that Tobias surrendered his rightful position to me, in what I recognised was both an apology and affirmation, I beamed at everyone, conscious mainly of Sir Leander and the way his shoulder kept brushing against mine. Once Will and Blanche ensured everyone had a fresh drink, the twins included, Tobias struck his knife against the side of a gilt bowl, calling for silence. Holding his vessel aloft, he offered the first of what would be many wassails.

  We drank and, taking our seats, clapped as Blanche brought in the goose. Steam wafted from its golden skin and the smell of its tender flesh made my mouth water. A suckling pig, basted in spiced apple and wine sauce was followed by mortrews — crumbed chicken and pork dusted with saffron, sugar and salt. There was roasted venison, salted herring, baked mackerel and so many other delicious dishes of meat, fish and sauces, I lost count and instead, unlatched my eating knife and prepared to feast.

  The sadness that had hung like a pall over our house ever since Mother died and which was renewed with Father’s passing, was finally lifting. Studying the faces of those who sat at the table as they filled their trenchers, first offering their neighbour the finest cuts of meat or fish, wiping their shared goblets with such consideration, I felt a sense of contentment, of being among family and friends, and satisfaction with what we’d achieved thus far washed over me.

  Hours passed as we ate, laughed and drank, and shadows grew. The bells for vespers tolled and yet none made any effort to move, choosing to nurse our drinks and pick at the remaining food. Outside, the snow fell, cocooning us within the hall. When the little rectangular mince or humble pies, made from the innards of game, were passed around, there was hesitation as everyone considered what they would wish for before they took the first bite. Having prepared my wish some days ago, I was about to sink my teeth into the tawny crust when I caught Sir Leander staring at me with the most peculiar expression on his face. Pausing, I tipped my head towards him. What was he thinking to regard me so?

  ‘I know what I’m wishing for,’ announced Karel, kneeling on the bench, trying to shove the entire pie into his mouth.

  ‘Karel!’ squealed Betje. ‘You’ll spoil it that way.’ She tried to prevent him, tugging at his arm so only a portion went into his mouth. The remainder of the pie fell on the floor and, with a hoarse bark, Patroclus, who’d been readmitted some time ago, fell upon it, Achilles being too slow. A squabble broke out and I was forced to set my pie down, rise to my feet, and separate the twins. Adam jumped up and ordered the dogs back to their place by the fire. Will and Iris laughed while Blanche took it as a cue to start collecting empty platters.

  The threat of missing the dancing was enough to quieten the twins. While Blanche and Westel cleared the tables and organised what leftovers would provide alms for the poor who would gather soon at the church door, Will and Adam took up their instruments — this time, a gittern and flute. Tobias lead Betje into the centre of the room, while Sir Leander, leaving his cane, took Louisa’s hand. Saskia grabbed Father Clement; Iris, Captain Stoyan. Sitting on a stool, with Karel upon my lap, we clapped in time, watching them spin, stamp their heels and weave around each other. The pace slowly increased, until they were a whirr of colour, hair, wool, linens and boots. Testimony to tiredness, Betje was unable to maintain the pace and tripped. Tobias fell over. He landed on his rump next to the hounds, who promptly jumped upon his chest, forcing him to the floor and licking his face. Betje also climbed atop her brother. Karel as well.

  The laughter was loud and contagious and it was a while before we recovered.

  Even then, amongst all the gaiety, I noted the way the hounds slinked around Westel, their hackles raised; how they maintained a distance from him and he them.

  Later, another, slower tune was played and I forgot about the hounds, Westel, the way the people in the church had snubbed me, I forgot about everything … Saskia and Tobias swayed in time with the music, as did Westel, holding a blushing Iris. Solemnly, Karel led Louisa to the floor. I was astonished to find Sir Leander standing in front of my stool, his hand held out.

  ‘Go on, Anneke,’ said Betje, nudging me. Captain Stoyan and Father Clement added their entreaties.

  Staring into those sapphire eyes, I wanted to refuse, but didn’t want to appear churlish. It was Christmas. What would one dance matter? Anyhow, I had offered him a chance. My cheeks pinked as thoughts of what happened in church took off in a series of complicated steps.

  In less time than it took to say Ave Maria, my hand was clasped in his. As our fingers touched, my heart became a juggler’s ball and heat travelled from my centre to, God forgive me, lower regions, causing my mind to reel.

  Drawing me to my feet, Sir Leander moved me into position. The dance required us to come together and then part. Whereas a civil distance was generally maintained, Sir Leander abided by no such rules, pulling me so close to him, I could smell the sweet scent of cloves on his breath, catch that musky, warm smell that was his own. Refusing to meet his eyes, I was all too aware that his never left my face. His palm was warm, hard, his long fingers twined possessively through mine. As we stepped towards each other, his hip brushed against me and a violent jolt ran through my body, causing me to gasp. Spinning me around so my hair, already tumbling from its bindings, flew out, he grinned. With a gentle tug, he drew me back towards him, remaining still while I whirled around him, a star locked in his orbit. Refusing to release me to my next partner, Sir Leander laughed. Westel, understanding that my lord had no intention of surrendering me, took Iris back with a frown.

  Thinking this was a game, the twins giggled and clapped their hands in appreciation. Saskia called encouragement.

  ‘You can’t follow the rules, can you, my lord?’ I said as we came together.

  He smiled. His teeth were so white. His skin, even in the dead of winter, darker than most, especially against the creamy collar of his shirt, carried lines of experience and laughter. I could see some bristles where Tobias’s razor had missed.

  ‘I find that amusing, coming from a woman who creates her own.’

  I shook my head, glancing down at my feet so I didn’t have to look at him any longer. The warmth that suffused my body was fast becoming a furnace and I felt everyone watching us. I wanted to escape his hold, return to the safety of my stool, bu
t I let the music and Sir Leander carry me forward towards the centre of the room.

  ‘Mistress Sheldrake,’ he said softly. ‘Anneke …’

  My head shot up. Not so much at the use of my name, but at the tenderness in his tone.

  ‘There’s something I’ve not told y—’

  ‘Look where you are!’ Betje leapt to her feet, pointing.

  ‘You have to kiss her!’ shouted Karel.

  I glanced toward the twins to see what Betje was madly indicating when a pair of lips captured my own.

  It was as if a thousand butterflies were released inside me. My heart hammered, my head spun. Tingling sensations that began where his mouth held mine escaped to travel to every single part of my body, suffusing it with white-hot heat.

  His kiss deepened as the roaring in my ears, in my chest, in my heart, grew. An ache such as I’d never known rose from deep within me to radiate out to the tips of my fingers, to the ends of my feet. God forgive me, I groaned into his mouth as our tongues twined. I so desperately wanted to draw him closer, feel the entire length of his firm body against mine. My hands explored his back, inching upwards and longing to coil his silky black locks around my fingers. The hand that held me tight crept lower until it rested against the curve at the base of my spine; his fingers burning through the wool of my tunic …

  The surging in my ears increased, warning me.

  My eyes fluttered open and with all my strength, I shoved Sir Leander away. He staggered back a step or two, tossed that dark head and laughed. Without his stick, he almost lost his footing.

  The twins were crying out in glee; the servants were open-mouthed, laughing and cheering. Father Clement crossed himself; the captain clapped. Tobias shook his head, what I thought was an uncertain smile hovering on his lips. Only Westel, who’d abandoned Iris to watch, was grim-faced. I stared at them all and then Sir Leander, chagrined, perplexed. I pressed my fingers to my swollen mouth and then swiped the back of my hand across it. My cheeks were flaming, my eyes glassy.