Sisters of Sword and Shadow by Laura Bates

Author:Laura Bates
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2023-11-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Yuletide brought flurries of snow that lay deep around the manor walls. In the courtyard, Blyth and the squires brushed and shovelled it into great heaps, clearing pathways from the main gate to the entrance to the great hall, from the kitchens to the stables, where Cass and Lily brought Blyth frequent cups of hot spiced cider to ward off the cold. They covered the horses with thick sheepskins, forked piles of straw into their stalls and sat amongst their warm bodies, playing knucklebones, laughing, sipping the hot cider until their fingers and stomachs tingled with warmth and enjoying the respite from training that the snow had brought.

Though her sessions with Sigrid had decreased as her form improved and jousting practice paused for the Yuletide celebrations, dance practice was the one form of training that continued apace. The Yuletide season would climax with Twelfth Night, the date of Sir Mordaunt’s feast, and so all cosy celebrations at the manor were tempered with wariness about the upcoming gathering and punctuated with dancing at every opportunity.

‘You will be expected to behave like the young ladies of any other estate,’ Angharad reminded them, her forehead wrinkled with worry, after another circle dance had ended in chaos, with Rowan and Lily gallivanting out of formation and off round the room together, arm in arm, before collapsing in a laughing heap by the fire. ‘Most young gentlewomen would be used to dancing and participating in such celebrations. We must not give Mordaunt any reason to suspect we are different.’

Vivian slid her hand into Angharad’s. ‘Let them have their merriment,’ she said gently. ‘They have worked hard. All will be well. Mordaunt has no reason to suspect us.’

But still the worry remained on Angharad’s face, and it gnawed at Cass too. At least some of the girls had attended feasts and festivities before. But this was the first manor house she had ever set foot in, and the idea of comporting herself appropriately in an even grander setting, surrounded by lords and ladies she had never met, filled her with dread. She would rather have met them a million times on the battlefield, where her confidence with lance and sword was increasing with every passing day.

But there was plenty to distract her. They staged a great snowball fight in the courtyard one crisp, sunny morning, knights and squires alike cavorting in the freezing air, pelting one another with close-packed handfuls of snow until they were all breathless and the tips of their ears turned bright red and ached with the cold. The squires gathered round the outer gates to hear mummers who emerged from the woods one evening carrying sticks with lanterns that swayed and flickered, briefly lighting the trees before the shadows swallowed them up again. Cass recognized the village woman with the braided hair and pressed some beeswax candles and a jar of honey into her hands as the mummers left, still singing their festive folk songs as the light gradually faded into the trees.

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