Saura02 Castles In The Air by Christina Dodd

Author:Christina Dodd [Dodd, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-08T15:32:41+00:00

12

Don’t touch me, Juliana prayed. Just don’t come near me. The singing of the drunken villagers washed over her while she concentrated on her invocation. Far too close for comfort, the object of her plea sat mounted on his big black horse. His cloak fluttered, revealing the tunic and cream-colored surcoat that had been his wedding apparel.

She would not soon forget the triumph in his eyes when he found it spread out on the bed. He had watched her as she stammered that it was a gift, a suit of clothing like the clothing she gave her servants.

He hadn’t believed her. He’d touched the tight weave of the tunic, examined the fine embroidery of the leaves, and he’d accepted her surrender, although she hadn’t offered it.

Now his black hair rippled, shiny in glints of moonlight. He looked like the spirit of winter watching the night’s festivities. Watching, too, his wife with a regard that spoke too clearly his intention.

Please don’t touch me.

“M’lady, will ye pour th’ cider on Apple Tree Man? In yer newly wedded state,

’twould be extra good luck t’ have ye do th’ honors. Mayhap th’ apples next year will be as sweet as ye are.” Tosti blushed at his own temerity.

“Oh, ho, the lady has a little admirer,” Geoffroi shouted. Tottering on his horse, he laughed unkindly, and Isabel giggled with the high-pitched nasal sound of a woman far gone with drink. The master castle-builder smiled fatuously, overcome with the abundance of wine. Tosti glared, offended by the taunt, yet unable to retaliate.

Refusing to leave the festivities until the last pleasure had been wrung from them, the noble folk had insisted on accompanying them down to the orchard. Through the stark moonlight they had ridden, drinking from the pitcher of wassail until they stayed on their saddles more from the kindness of their steeds than from their own skill.

Ignoring the swirl of frigid wind that rattled the branches, Juliana smiled at Tosti kindly. To herself, she said, That’s right, Tosti, stand between us. Block me from his very gaze. Aloud, she said, “Of course. One of my sweetest duties is the blessing of the trees on Twelfth Night.”

About to dismount from her gentle mare, she cringed when Tosti’s father said, “His lordship be pourin’ th’ cider, too. Just as newly wedded.”

Tosti snorted. “They can’t both pour th’ cider, Dad, we’ve only th’ one ceremonial cup.”

“Both pour,” Salisbury insisted, his mouth puckered into a wrinkled knot. “Wish Apple Tree Man wes-hâl, an’ off th’ home t’ drink th’ night away.”

Raymond moved his horse close to Juliana’s. “Wes-hâl? ”

Tosti explained the English tradition to the new lord. “Wes-hâl means good health.

Wassail is th’ drink we make, O’ cider an’ spices, beat together an’ bobbin’ wi’

apples.” He smacked his lips and winked. “With that we toast th’ apple trees an’

give them thanks fer their bounty. Makes th’ spirit in th’ tree want t’ give us more next year.”

“Then Lady Juliana and I would be honored to toast the tree together. We wish the best for the village.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.