Standing underneath the pine tree she could
see its branches spread out like steps, inviting her to climb them.
It was years since she had climbed a tree, but she worked out at a
health club three times a week and did a lot of brisk walking.
Deciding she was strong enough to do the job, she raised both hands
over her head and grabbed a branch. Swinging her feet onto another
branch, she began to work her way upward.
It wasn’t a hard tree to climb and soon she
had reached the height of the mistletoe vine. She moved outward
along a pine branch until she could reach over to the other tree
and get a tight hold on the stuff. And then she pulled. The
mistletoe would not come loose. She pulled again.
“Whoops!” She caught herself just in time to
prevent a nasty fall, but she had the mistletoe, a fair-sized clump
of it, the branches thick with waxy berries.
“You foolish woman,” came a masculine voice.
“What are you doing?”
“Hello, Adam,” she called. “I’m up here.”
“I can see where you are. Get down at
once!”
“I have the mistletoe. Here, catch.” She
tossed it at him. “Watch the berries, you don’t want to lose any.
Someone ought to carry it home separately, instead of piling it in
with the other greens.”
“Will you get down before you fall!” It
wasn’t a question; it was an order.
“No problem. It’s as easy as going down a
ladder.” Aline knew she was showing off. She liked teasing Adam,
and she liked even better knowing he was concerned for her safety.
“I shall now make an elegant descent.”
Of course, she promptly lost her footing and
nearly fell straight to the ground. She caught herself just in
time, hanging by both hands from a branch until she could find a
place to put her feet. After a pause until her heart stopped
thumping against her ribs, she began to climb down more
carefully.
“Jump,” Adam called from directly below her.
“Jump before you fall and break your neck.”
“I do not intend to fall,” she replied, still
moving downward.
“You almost did. Why must you be so
independent? You should have waited for me to send a man up the
tree to get your confounded mistletoe for you.”
“I learned a long time ago that if I wait for
a man to do something for me, it will never be done,” she said.
“Independence feels great.”
“Aline! This is not fitting behavior for a
noblewoman.” He sounded angry, or at least very annoyed. She turned
herself around on the branches so she could look at him. He was
only a couple of feet below her, with one arm stretched out to hold
aside a low branch and thus make a space large enough for him to
stand. His face was turned upward and she thought he looked more
worried than angry. Perhaps it was fear for her she had heard in
his voice.
“Aline,” he said more quietly.
“Oh, all right,” she replied and, letting go
of the branches, she launched herself into his arms.
He wasn’t expecting her. She knocked him down
and together they rolled over and over. First Adam was beneath her,
then on top of her, and their arms were around each other. They lay
there in the snow with Adam’s full weight pressing on her and his
mouth less than an inch from hers.
“Aline.” With a groan that came from
somewhere deep inside him, he lowered his mouth to hers.
And Aline responded. With no pretense of
resistance she gave herself up to his scalding kiss. It was what
she wanted. Their mouths fit together perfectly, with a tenderness
and a depth of emotion that shocked her. Where were all her
carefully built defenses now, when she needed them? She who had
vowed never to let herself be hurt by another man, she who refused
to let any man get close enough for this heart-stopping, aching
beauty? Melted, that was where the protective walls were – melted
away in less than twenty-four hours in the fires generated by a
middle-aged Norman baron.
She wanted him. Long-forgotten urgings of her
body, deliberately repressed, forbidden admittance to her conscious
mind, began to stir and awaken while Adam kissed her and she kissed
him back…
“Aline.” His lips were on her throat.
’Too old for passion?” Gently she mocked him,
and herself, while she tried to get her feelings under control
again. “I don’t think you have finished with life yet, my
lord.”
“No more than you have.” Briefly his lips
touched hers once more.
“Aline, my lord Adam, are you injured?”
Connie knelt beside them “What are you doing here under the
tree?”
“I thought it was obvious,” Adam murmured
into Aline’s ear. “I must be doing it all wrong.”
“Oh, no, my lord, it was very right.” Aline
began to laugh and Adam joined her. After a minute or two he helped
her to stand and they tried to brush the pine needles and snow off
each other, there beneath the tree with a bewildered Connie
watching them.
“We are unhurt,” Adam said to his
daughter-in-law. “Lady Aline fell out of the tree and knocked me
down. Here’s the mistletoe she plucked. You carry it home,
Constance, and be careful lest you lose any berries. I have a
feeling we are going to use all of them before Twelfth Night
ends.”
“Out of the tree?” said Connie when the three
of them were standing near the tarpaulin full of greenery. “Aline,
did you climb into it, then? I would never think to do such a
dangerous thing.”
“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 sane 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.”