Lord of Misrule (Below the Salt #8)

Chapter 7

K it and the servants all attended an early Mass the next morning since it was Christmas Day. Because of Raven, they’d actually been allowed to go to the service, but were instructed to return directly to the kitchen afterward. The meal yesterday had been hectic. She’d been lucky enough to manage to complete all the fruit tarts in time. But since she’d gone to the joust, she was short on time and had to give up eating her meal in order to complete things. She’d been so busy that she never got out to the great hall at all.

However, the word around the kitchen was that Tolin lost the joust and ended up facedown in the mud. Mayhap she should have stayed to watch, after all. From what she’d heard, Tolin never lost. Then again, she was glad he lost. Mayhap his self-importance would go down a notch. After all, the man had too much pride.

“Mother, I see King. Can I go pet him?” Parker tugged on her arm.

“What?” She looked up to see Lord Tolin atop his horse, watching as the servants exited St. Basil’s Cathedral. Her heart sped up. What was he doing here? The sun had just risen and she’d heard the man liked to sleep late. Besides, the nobles wouldn’t go to Mass until a little later.

“I’ll bring him over there,” offered her sister’s husband, Oliver, taking the boy and heading right to Lord Tolin.

“Aren’t you going too?” asked Brenna from behind her.

“Nay,” said Kit, her gaze dropping to the ground. She didn’t want to talk to Tolin. He would probably only reprimand her for having left the kitchen to come to the joust. “Oliver will bring Parker back to the castle. Let’s keep walking.”

She headed in the opposite direction with Brenna at her side. Kit felt the need to sprint, but her sister moved slowly and she wouldn’t leave her behind.

“Kit, I thought you liked Lord Tolin. So, why are you trying so hard to avoid him?”

Kit slowed down to talk with her sister.

“I don’t know. He makes me...nervous when I’m around him. He didn’t at first, but now whenever he is near, I feel flooded with anxiety and my whole body shakes.”

“Oh, I understand. You mean, ever since he kissed you.”

Kit supposed that was right. It made sense in a way. She had felt bold and stood up to the man when she’d first met him. Now when he was near, her hands and knees started shaking.

“Mayhap that’s it,” she said softly under her breath.

The clip-clop of a horse’s hooves from behind her led her to believe that it was Lord Tolin and that he was following her for some reason. This only caused her to become anxious once again.

“Baker,” he called out, making her stop in her tracks.

“I think he’s talking to you,” her sister whispered.

“Yes, I believe so.” There was no way she could avoid him now. To do so would be defying a noble. She was trying her hardest to help work off Parker’s punishment, and she didn’t need him adding more time to the sentence. She had no choice but to heed his call.

“I would have a word with you. Alone.” His deep and sexy voice sounded so demanding.

“I’ll leave,” offered Brenna.

Kit looked over to her sister and shook her head. “Nay,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me, Brenna. Please.”

“He said he wants to speak to you alone. I cannot ignore his wishes. He’s a noble.” Her sister grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Everything will be fine, I promise. Just be yourself. I will join Oliver and Parker until you are finished.” Brenna left, leaving Kit standing there alone with Lord Tolin.

“My lord,” she said, forcing a smile and curtseying to him. He sat high atop his horse, towering over her and making her feel inferior. He did this on purpose she was sure.

“So, did you enjoy the joust yesterday?” he asked. She couldn’t be sure if he was being sincere or just facetious.

“Yes, my lord, I did.” By the look on his face she realized she’d said the wrong thing. Mayhap he thought she was saying that she’d enjoyed the fact he’d lost. “I mean, no, I didn’t. I mean, I’m sorry to hear you lost and ended up facedown in the mud. My lord.” She squeezed her eyes shut thinking how silly she must sound. Damn her nerves. Kit already regretted mentioning his failure and the mud in the same sentence. She probably should have left that part out altogether.

“You do realize that I chose your favor over all the others,” he continued. “Yet, it was brought to my attention that you didn’t bother to stick around for the joust afterwards.” He dangled her hair ribbon from his fingers. It was caked with mud. Her eyes settled on it and her heart skipped a beat. So he’d kept it. It made her wonder why. Especially after he’d lost the joust.

“I’m sorry, but I had work to do in the kitchen. I shouldn’t have gone to the lists at all.” She tried to retrieve the ribbon from him but he snatched it up in his hand just out of her reach. Her eyes raised to his face as she slowly dropped her hand to her side.

“Nay, you never should have been there to begin with, that is right. I should have made you return to the castle at once instead of rewarding you by choosing your favor over all the others. I never should have taken a favor from a commoner to begin with. It only brought me ill luck.” He dangled the ribbon from his fingers again. This time she didn’t bother to try to get it. He was toying with her like a cat and mouse and she didn’t like that. Nay, she decided, she wouldn’t play his game anymore.

“Are you here now to punish me, my lord?” she asked, being bold enough to stand up to him again. “Or are you here perhaps to tell me that it was my fault that you lost the joust? After all, you always win is what I’ve heard. Surely, I must be nothing to you but bad luck.” She was too angry right now to feel nervous. Perhaps what she’d felt when he’d kissed her was not affection or attraction to him like she’d initially thought. Mayhap it was nothing more than the longing to have a man in her life once again.

Kit needed to learn to ignore these feelings. Men in her life had only brought her despair in the past. Kit didn’t want that and she certainly didn’t need this one. Tolin Blake was not someone whom she would ever choose to purposely have in her life. Nay, it was a silly mistake to think so in the first place, and she wouldn’t be so careless again.

“If you must know, I am here to give you this.” He held out his closed fist. At first she thought he was giving her back her hair ribbon, but then she realized he still held that in his other hand. She slowly reached up and her opened her hand. His fingers brushed against hers as he dropped something into her palm. All she could feel was a surge of excitement wash through her when his skin touched hers.

Why did she feel this way? Nay, she didn’t want to think about it. Quickly, she pulled her hand back, looking at a dried bean that he’d placed in her palm.

“What is this?” she asked.

“A bean,” he answered.

“Yes, I can see that. But why are you giving it to me?”

“It is to be used tonight.”

“In the mincemeat pies?”

“Nay. I’ve decided we’ll have cake instead.”

“What?” She didn’t like him changing his mind so often. “Cake, my lord?”

“Yes. You will put that bean into the cake for tonight’s meal.”

Her thoughts went back to the servants at the joust who were talking about the Bean King.

“It’s for a game. Right?”

“Yes, it is. Whoever finds the bean in their cake will be the Bean King or Queen. Or as I prefer to call them, the Lord or Lady of Misrule. Their reign will last until Twelfth Night.”

“So then, anyone can find this bean and earn the title?” she asked, staring at the bean in her hand. Already a thousand thoughts swarmed her head. This could be the answer to all her prayers.

“Aye, that’s right.”

“And this Lord or Lady of Misrule can make anyone, even nobles, do whatever they want? Even if the one who finds the bean is naught but a servant or a commoner?” Her eyes slowly lifted to his face.

“Yes, the game is for servants and commoners,” he said slowly, studying her intensely. “That’s the way it works. Why do you ask?”

He started to sound suspicious and she needed him to trust her. She had a plan that was going to bring wealth and success to her family, but she didn’t want him to know it. Luck was finally on her side, and Lord Tolin Blake had just put the answer to all her problems right in the palm of her hand.

“No reason. I just wanted to understand the game, that’s all.” She smiled and curtseyed again. “Good day, my lord. And good luck to the next Lord...or Lady of Misrule.”

“Damn it!” cursed Tolin several hours later, after having been on the losing team of the Christmas football game. The nobles had taken on the villagers in a game that involved kicking around a pigskin bladder filled with air. It was a rough game with many injuries, but he didn’t care. He’d needed to get out his frustrations somehow.

Kit wasn’t falling for him like most women did. This only made him want the wench even more. Breathing hard, he stopped at a horse trough filled with water. Since it was winter the water was cold and nearly frozen. He splashed it on his face, liking the sting of the bite. It made him feel alive.

He looked down and pulled the hair ribbon from where he’d tied it to his belt. Mayhap it really was bad luck after all. About to throw it down, he felt the soft silk under his fingers and that only made him think of Kit’s soft skin and her enticing lips. He dipped the ribbon in the water to cleanse it.

“My lord, did we really just lose to the villagers?” Jarvis came up beside him, rinsing his face with the cold water as well. “Aaaaaah, that’s cold. Brrrr.”

“We would have won if Tolin hadn’t been such a bad aim,” said Raven, walking up with Rook. She brushed the dirt off her gown.

“Aye,” said Rook. “Tolin, what is the matter with you lately? You couldn’t even seem to kick the ball straight today. You’re usually our best player.”

“Don’t forget, he lost the joust yesterday, too,” Jarvis so diligently pointed out. “Mayhap he’s cursed or something to be losing so much lately.”

“Aye, that must be what it is,” said Tolin, looking at the wet hair ribbon in his hand.

“Or mayhap his mind is on something...or someone else.” Raven smiled and nodded to the ribbon. Tolin quickly shoved it into his pouch.

“Oh, do you mean the baker woman he kissed under the mistletoe?” asked Jarvis.

“Ah, my little brother has been bitten by the love bug,” said Rook with a chuckle. “And so soon after meeting the woman, too.”

“Nay, that is ridiculous!” spat Tolin, not wanting to believe he was under anyone’s spell. Especially not the baker wench even if she was lovely and a big distraction. No girl had ever affected him this way. He needed to stop this losing streak before he also lost his reputation. “I just had some ill luck, that’s all. But I assure you, it will all end tonight. After the main meal. I will challenge any of you to any game and I assure you I will not lose again.”

Kit couldn’t believe the feast being served at the castle’s Christmas dinner. She had never attended this meal before and now wondered why she hadn’t.

The food was fantastic, delicious, and a work of art. The castle cooks were truly amazing. The servants kept bringing out course after course, starting with soup, lampreys, and vegetables, followed by eight different kinds of meat. There were dishes she’d never seen before, like the stuffed chickens made to look like knights riding atop pigs. The chickens were cooked and dressed in clothes and had little jousting poles in their hands. No expense was too much for Blake Castle. Or perhaps Tolin was trying to show off, she wasn’t sure. Either way, it truly was impressive.

“Mother, did you see all the meat?” asked Parker, helping her to mix the ingredients for the cakes that were to be served as part of the Bean King game that would take place after the main meal. “They even have a swan with feathers on it yet!”

“No, Parker. They reattached the feathers after the bird was cooked,” she explained, ladling the contents of the fruit-and-nut cake into the proper pans, getting it ready for the oven.

“Try this!” Oliver walked over and held up a piece of roasted boar to her mouth. Kit tasted it and robust flavor exploded on her tongue.

“That is really delicious,” she said, licking her lips.

“Kit, look at the boar’s head,” Brenna called out from the table as she helped with the baking. She pointed to a large tray being carried by two male servants. On the center of the tray was the cooked head of a huge wild boar. In its mouth was a baked apple. Around the boar’s head were stewed figs and baked quinces sprinkled with lots of currants and what looked like spices.

“Look, Mother, what’s that?” Parker stood up on the bench to see over the heads of all the people working in the kitchen.

“It looks like a peacock,” said Kit. “Oh my!” She held her hand to her mouth in shock. The cooked bird also had its feathers reattached and they were spread out in a colorful and wide display of the bird’s elaborate plumage. It was surrounded by cooked root vegetables that were somehow carved to look like flowers.

“Don’t forget the salt cellar for the main table,” called out one of the servants. “Where is it?”

“Oh, here it is.” Kit ran over and picked up the large silver dish that was shaped like a boat. Inside, it was filled to the top with salt to be used by the nobles. Salt was expensive and not everyone had the luxury of seasoning their food with it. The servants and peasants sitting below the royal dais would not have this luxury as they were from ‘below the salt.’

“Take that out to the dais right away,” commanded the man who was the head cook.

“Who? Me?” asked Kit.

“Yes. The nobles need the salt. Don’t forget to bring a spoon. Hurry.”

“But I need to?—”

“Hurry, before we are reprimanded by Lord Tolin,” shouted the cook.

“Oliver, perhaps you could do it?” asked Kit, holding the salt cellar with two hands.

“Nay.” He shook his head. “I’m supposed to be in the stables. Besides, and it wouldn’t bode well for me if Lord Tolin knew I was in here snitching food.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Kit with a sigh. Since Oliver was missing fingers, she couldn’t take the chance that he might drop or spill it. Kit looked over to Brenna next who was rubbing her belly. Her sister could barely walk let alone carry a cellar filled with salt. Nay, this would never work.

“Here’s a spoon, Mother.” Parker stood on his tiptoes and placed a spoon into the salt cellar. She considered having Parker bring it out, but figured he was too small and wouldn’t be able to lift it to the raised table.

“All right, I’ll do it. I’ll be right back. We need to get those cakes in the oven.” Kit took a deep breath and slowly released it. She didn’t want to walk up to the dais where the nobles sat to hand them salt. But if she refused, all the servants might get in trouble. They’d been working so hard and were so tired. They didn’t deserve to be punished, especially on Christmas. Nay, she would just go quickly and deliver the salt herself.

Tolin looked up from his meal surprised to see Kit heading right toward the dais with the salt cellar balanced between her hands. Her hair was tied back but mussed. Her cheeks were ruddy and her apron was smattered with flour.

Never had such a bedraggled wench looked so enticing to him as she did right now. She was about to hand the salt cellar up to Raven, but he raised his hand to call her over.

“Bring the salt here, please,” he told her. He watched as her eyes darted back and forth. She hesitated, but then carefully carried the salt over to him. He stood up and reached down over the table to take it from her. When he grabbed it, he swore he saw her hands shaking. “Thank you,” he said.

“My lord.” She nodded quickly and turned to go, but he didn’t want her to leave just yet. Actually, he wanted her to sit next to him and share a trencher, but knew that would never happen. She was naught but a commoner, and only nobles were allowed to sit at the dais. Besides, she was a baker and belonged in the kitchen.

“Wait!” he called out, still holding the salt cellar. From the corner of his eyes he saw his brothers and sister watching him intently.

Kit slowly turned around. “Is there something else you require, my lord?”

“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat, trying to think of something. He slowly put the salt cellar down on the table. King sat next to his chair whining and wagging his tail. “It’s King,” he said.

“Your...hound?” She looked confused. “What about him?”

“I’d like you to take him into the kitchen.”

“You would? Why?”

“Tolin? What are you doing?” asked Rook. “Your hound is always at your feet during a meal. You are sending him away?”

“I want you to bring my dog to the boy so he can watch him.”

“The boy?” One of Kit’s brows lifted into an arch.

“Parker. That’s his name, right?”

“Yes, my lord,” she answered with a stiff upper lip. “My son’s name is Parker. I would have thought you’d know that by now. Especially after sentencing him.”

“He’s good with the hound. Make certain he feeds King whatever he wants to eat. Go King,” he told the dog, giving him a small push until the dog jumped down from the dais.

“Whatever the dog wants to eat he gets?” she asked, sounding as if she thought it was absurd.

“Yes,” he answered. “And make certain you and your family get some food too.”

“I have cakes to bake for the bean game, my lord. I’m afraid I might not get the luxury of eating until later tonight and only if there is anything left at all.” She reached out and took the dog by the collar. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have much work to do.” She turned and left before she was dismissed.

Tolin raised a finger meaning to reprimand her, but then decided he didn’t want to do that. Not with everyone watching. He slowly lowered his hand and sat back down.

“Isn’t that the girl who is the mother of the boy thief?” Raven’s husband Jonathon leaned forward and looked down the dais past Raven to talk to Tolin.

“She’s the baker,” he said. “Her name is Kit.” Tolin took the spoon and some salt, sprinkling it on his food. He kept thinking of what Kit said. That she might not have time to eat. Why did this bother him so much?

“Tolin? Tolin, can you pass the salt?” asked Rook.

“Sure,” he said, handing it to Rook’s wife, Rose who sat next to him.

“Is something the matter?” asked Rose, passing the dish to her husband.

“Nay. Why would you think that?” asked Tolin, busying himself pushing his food around his plate with his spoon.

“It just seems like something is taking your concern,” Rose answered, taking a sip of wine.

“Nay. Not at all.”

“Mayhap he’s afraid he’ll lose any game he plays tonight,” Daegel said from down the table. “After all, he is on a losing streak lately.”

“That is all about to change,” said Tolin, lifting his goblet to his mouth. Over the rim, he saw Kit bringing his hound into the kitchen. Parker ran out and hugged the dog. Together they left the great hall. This didn’t feel right to him. He didn’t want to think of Kit and her son working so hard on Christmas. Even the serfs had the week off from working the land.

“How are things going with that little thief?” Rook broke him from his thoughts.

“I’m not so sure the boy really is a thief,” said Tolin.

“Then why don’t you let him and his mother go back home?” asked Rook.

Tolin could very well decide to do that. But if he did, he would never have the chance to get to know Kit better.

“Nay. I’ve made my decision and they will work in the kitchen until Twelfth Night,” said Tolin.

“Good, good.” Rook nodded and took a swig of ale. “It seems you are getting the hang of things after all. I’m glad to see you are taking proper measures and teaching the peasants a valuable lesson.”

“Yes. I suppose so.” Tolin pushed his food around his plate, no longer hungry.