Lord of Misrule (Below the Salt #8)

Chapter 8

“ I t’s time to serve the cake,” Kit instructed, putting the final touches of sprinkled sugar atop the cooling fruit-and-nut cakes. The sweet and tangy aroma wafted up into the air. “Everyone take a platter of cakes and be sure to serve the nobles first,” she told the other bakers who were assisting her.

“Mother, is this cake for the Green Bean game?” asked her son, kneeling on a stool and reaching out to pluck a currant from atop one of the cakes. He popped it into his mouth and smiled. Then he snitched another currant and handed it to King who was begging under the table.

Kit giggled. Her son was so cute. “Parker, it is not a green bean, it is a dried bean that someone will find in their cake tonight. And yes, it is for the game. Now go and watch King so he doesn’t trip the servers on their way to the great hall with the cakes.” The boy had taken a liking to the dog. Lately the dog followed him just about everywhere he went. They were inseparable.

“Yes, Mother.” Parker skipped off with his new friend, King following on his heels.

“Kit, did you remember to put the bean in the batter?” Brenna waddled over, holding on to Oliver’s arm. Her face was flushed and she breathed heavily. The baby was getting closer to being born, and it made her sister very tired.

“Of course she did,” said Oliver. “Kit knows the rules of the game.”

“Actually, I didn’t do it. Yet.” Kit pulled the bean out of her pouch and held it between two fingers.

“Kit, you were supposed to put it in the batter,” said Brenna in shock. Her eyes opened wide. “We will be punished for that.”

“Nay, we won’t,” said Kit. “Don’t worry. I have a plan that involves this bean and it will solve all our problems.”

“What is it?” asked Oliver. “I don’t understand.”

“The rules of the game are that whoever finds this bean in their cake is Lord or Lady of Misrule until Twelfth Night.”

“Yes, but no one is going to find it if you haven’t put it in the cake,” said Oliver.

“It will be in the cake, don’t worry.” Kit grinned and pushed the bean into one of the small cakes that she’d kept on the side.

“Sister? What are you doing?” Brenna looked horrified.

“Oliver, go out into the great hall and sit down. Quickly. I am going to serve you this cake. Then you will announce to everyone that you have found the bean. You will be the Bean King.”

“I am? I will?” Oliver made a face, not understanding.

“Yes, you are going to be the winner,” said Kit. “Don’t you see? Once you find the bean, we will not have to worry about where we’ll live or the bakery shop or finding a job or anything ever again.”

“Kit, this makes no sense at all,” said Brenna. “Why not?”

“Because, Oliver will hold the power to tell the nobles to send us back to the bakery anon. Or he can have them give us money. Or possibly even a new home. We will have no more worries as soon as Oliver finds the bean. This is the answer to our prayers. Don’t you understand? Our troubles will be over and all because of this.” She held up the plate with the hand-sized cake on it and smiled.

“Oh, Kit, I hope you are right,” cried Brenna, still rubbing her belly.

“Do you really think this will work?” asked Oliver.

“I know it will.” Kit felt confident. Nothing was going to ruin her plan. Her son’s punishment by being here at the castle was to thank, because they were about to get everything they ever wanted.

“I would also like Oliver to hold a job at the castle,” said her sister excitedly. “And you to be able to hire enough help at the bakery so your business can flourish again.”

“We’ll have all that, and more.” Kit felt smug and she didn’t care. It might be dishonest, but then again, her son was being punished and blamed for something that he never even did. Her boy was not a thief. Life was about to smile on them. This was one of Lord Tolin’s games that she was about to win. “I have some ideas of more things we can demand from Lord Tolin and I’ll tell you about them later. Mayhap we can even get him to give Parker a dog of his own. I know that would be a wonderful present for my son.”

“I’m starting to like this idea,” said Oliver with a nod. “I’ve got my eye on a fine steed in the stables. I’ve never had a horse of my own, but would like to have one.”

“Then you shall have it,” said Kit, giving her promise.

“Oliver can ride it to his job at the castle every day,” added Brenna, getting swept up in the excitement now.

“Yes,” said Kit. “This is all going to be perfect. You see, before Twelfth Night is here, Lord Tolin will have made us the richest people in town. Now go! I will bring out the cake as soon as you sit down, Oliver.”

I’m going, I’m going,” said Oliver, taking off for the great hall at a near run.

Kit took off her apron, brushed off her clothes, and ran a hand over her head to smooth down her hair.

“Oh, Kit, this all sounds so wonderful but are you sure we should be doing this?” asked Brenna. “What if someone finds out? We might all be thrown into the dungeon because of it.”

“Nay, don’t even say that. No one is going to be the wiser.” Kit smiled and picked up the plate with the special cake on it. “Besides, isn’t it time that a commoner had something good happen to them? Why should the nobles have all the luck, wealth, and riches?” She took the plate and made her way to the great hall. Taking a quick look around, she spied Oliver waving to her from one of the far tables. Kit was so excited she could barely stand it. She took one step into the room but was abruptly halted.

“Hold on, there,” said Tolin, seeming to come from nowhere. His big body blocked her path and her view of Oliver. She needed to get around him and give her brother by marriage the cake so her plan could be set into action.

“Lord Tolin,” she gasped. He was the last person she wanted to see right now. Especially since she was deceiving him.

“What have you got there?” he asked, looking down at the cake.

“Huh?” Her head snapped up and her eyes widened in fear. “Oh, this is the cake. You know, the cake that is being used for your game,” she told him. “This is the last one to be served.”

“That looks delicious.” He started to reach for it, but she pulled the plate away.

“I told the servers to bring cake to the nobles first. I’m sure if you return to your seat you’ll find some waiting for you.”

“Mmmm, that smells good,” he said, closing his eyes and sniffing the air. “What kind of cake is it?”

“It is fruit-and-nut cake, my lord. With a sprinkle of cinnamon on top and a splash of dark ale inside. Now, excuse me. I need to deliver this last cake and get back to work.” She stepped around him, but with one stride from his long legs, he was blocking her way once again.

“Those are some of my favorite ingredients, you realize.”

“That’s nice. Pardon me.” She tried again, but his hand on her arm stopped her this time.

“Wait.”

“Is there something you need, my lord?” She glanced up at him. Heat started to rise within her. She and her family were so close to having a good life, but Lord Tolin was the only thing right now standing in her way.

“Were you able to get some food to eat in the kitchen?” he asked her, sounding sincerely concerned.

“Nay. Not yet. But don’t worry, I will as soon as I deliver this last cake.” She flashed him a fake smile. “So, excuse me so I can bring it to the table.”

“No need for that. I’ll help you get rid of it.” He reached out and plucked the cake off the plate.

Kit’s eyes focused on the empty dish and her mouth fell open. “Nay. What are you doing?” she gasped.

“I am helping you to finish your work quicker so you can go and enjoy the Christmas feast.”

Kit wasn’t interested in food right now. The only feast she desired was her dreams that would be granted once Oliver found the bean in the cake.

“Don’t eat that, my lord,” she blurted out, having to refrain herself from ripping it out of his hand.

“Why not?” His dark eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her.

“Because! Because your cake is at the dais, my lord. That one is for the commoners.” She held out the plate but he didn’t return the cake.

“If we’re short because of this one, I’ll give my cake at the dais to a commoner, don’t worry.”

She tried to actually reach out for it, but she was too late. Tolin opened his mouth and took a big bite.

“Mmmm, this is delicious,” he said as he chewed. “You must be the finest baker in the land, Kit. This is the best fruit and nut cake I have ever tasted.”

“Thank you,” she said, horrified by his act. Her eyes flashed down to the rest of the cake in his fingers. She wondered if the bean was still inside the piece left. He hadn’t seemed to bite into it yet. Mayhap if she got the rest of the cake away from him before he found the bean, she’d still be able to slip it to Oliver in time.

“I’m sure you’d like to sit down and eat, my lord. Allow me to carry that cake to your table for you.” She held out the plate, wanting him to put the remainder of the small hand cake atop the dish, but Tolin had other intentions. The man couldn’t seem to be parted from his sweets.

“No need to do that. This is so good that I’ll finish it right here.” He shoved the rest of the cake into his mouth and chewed. Kit held her breath and her body stiffened. How was this really happening? Why? This couldn’t be true! Then she heard his tooth hit the bean and he moaned and held his hand up to his mouth.

“What the hell.” He spit the bean out into his hand. “What is this? A shell from a nut?”

“Lord Tolin,” called out his squire walking up to join them. “No one seems to have found the bean. Oh, look, there it is. You’ve found the bean in your cake! Doesn’t that make you the Bean King then?”

“Yes. I suppose it does,” said Tolin, studying the bean.

Daegel was right behind Jarvis, stretching his neck to see what was going on. “Hey, you can’t be the Bean King, Tolin. That is a game devised for peasants to get that privilege.”

“Yes, I believe he is right,” said Kit, feeling her heart drumming so loud in her ears that she wondered if they heard it too. “I would be more than happy to put the bean into another batch of cakes.” She held out her hand for it. Tolin started to give it to her, but at the last minute he pulled his hand away and closed the bean into his fist.

“Nay, nay. I think I’ll keep this after all.”

“What? Why?” Kit felt her world come crashing down around her.

“Well, I am in charge of the games during Christmastide, so I can make or even change the rules if I feel like it.”

“Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” said Kit. “Won’t everyone be disappointed?”

“Nay, why would they? Actually, I think it would be a lot more fun this way. Yes, I think I will bend the rules after all.”

He looked up and called out so everyone could hear him. “Attention, everyone! This year, anyone, including nobles, can win the title of Bean King. And that said, I have just found the bean in my cake.” He held it up high so everyone could see.

A soft lull of talking and comments filled the hall. Kit could tell that the commoners were not at all pleased by Tolin’s decision.

Rook rushed over, stepping around several servers along the way. “Tolin, nay. What are you doing? This is a game for the peasants, not the nobles.”

“Well, I can’t help it if I won.” He looked at the bean and chuckled. “I guess my winning streak is back.”

“Put it back,” said Rook through his teeth. “You cannot be the winner of this game. It isn’t right.”

“He’s correct,” said Kit, her heart still drumming against her ribs.

“I won fair and square,” said Tolin with a shrug. “Besides, I decide the games and the rules for Christmastide. I say this is the way we will do it this year.”

Jarvis grabbed two tankards of ale from the tray of a passing serving girl, giving one to Tolin. “Then let’s all drink to this year’s Bean King, Lord Tolin.”

“Lord of Misrule,” Tolin bellowed. “That is the proper title. Now, let’s all drink and dance and have some fun. That is what this year’s Lord of Misrule orders you all to do.”

Kit slowly slunk away, making her way back to the kitchen. Of all the rotten luck, why did Lord Tolin have to be the one to get the bean instead of Oliver? Her plan had been perfect, but that man just ruined everything. Why couldn’t he have stayed up at the dais where a noble belonged?

“It looks like your winning streak truly has returned, Lord Tolin,” she heard his squire say as she left the great hall.

“Yes. I’m back,” shouted Tolin with a chuckle. “Hail to the winner—the Lord of Misrule.”

Tolin couldn’t believe his good luck. He raised his tankard and drank with his friends, then attended the group by the fire as the servants brought in the Yule log. It was a piece of the leftover log from last Christmas, to be burned for good luck. More logs would be added to it, and the fire would keep being fed and burning bright until the end of Twelfth Night. Then, a piece of the new Yule log would be saved to use next year for good luck as well.

“Tolin, your cake was up at the dais,” his sister Raven told him. “What were you even doing down on the floor, and why were you eating cake with the peasants?”

“I was looking for King. My dog keeps disappearing lately. That’s when I saw Kit enter the great hall with a plate with one lone cake atop it. She said she had to deliver it before she could get any food to eat. I was only trying to help her out, since I didn’t want her to go hungry. So I ate the cake, enabling her to get back to the kitchen quicker.”

“She only had one piece of cake to deliver?” Jarvis made a face. “Why only one? The servants always have huge platters filled with desserts to hand out.”

“That’s true,” said Tolin. “I suppose it was a little odd. Mayhap it was the last of what was left.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” said Jarvis. “I mean, I saw Oliver, your new stableman, come out and sit down just before this happened. He was waving to Kit to bring the cake over to him. Mayhap that is what she was doing.”

“You saw what?” Tolin’s smile faded. “Are you sure it was Oliver? That is her brother-by-marriage.”

“I’m positive.” Jarvis nodded. “I know who he is. He was in the kitchen most of the night. I saw him there earlier. I guess Kit wanted him to eat the cake out in the great hall for some reason. I’m surprised Kit took the time to deliver it herself when she has been so busy baking. I would have thought she’d have the boy deliver it instead.”

“Yes, now that you mention it. It would seem so.” Tolin started to get a bad feeling about this. His eyes shot over to the kitchen. He wondered exactly what the wench was up to.

“I’m sure she was just trying to help,” said Raven, sticking up for Kit. “Remember, she did take the time to bring the salt cellar to our table during the meal.”

“Aye, she did,” said Tolin, remembering how flustered Kit had seemed when she did it. And how she couldn’t wait to run back to the kitchen. He couldn’t help thinking it was a little odd that she would personally deliver a cake to her family member. Twice as odd that she kept trying to stop him from eating it, too. “Damn, she played me,” he spat, knowing now exactly what she had been trying to do.

“Pardon me, Lord of Misrule?” asked his squire.

“Who played you?” asked Daegel.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a stop to make.” Tolin made straight for the kitchen, knowing now that Kit had tried to cheat and he just happened to have caught her in the act. Most of the servants were sitting down in the kitchen, finally able to eat, when he stormed in.

They all jumped up at his presence.

“Sit back down and eat,” he said, with a wave of his hand. He scanned the kitchen but didn’t see the wench anywhere. “Where is the baker named Kit?”

He saw the boy and his dog across the room, as well as the pregnant woman and her husband. He hurried over to them. “There’s my dog,” he grumbled. “Where is Kit?” he asked. I need to talk to her at once.”

“I think she went out for a breath of fresh air,” said Brenna, looking up from her meal. “Is there something you need, my lord? Mayhap we can help you?”

“What I need is to speak to the liar and the cheat.” He stormed away before giving anyone a chance to answer and headed for the door leading to the courtyard.

“My lord,” called out Jarvis, seeing him and running over with Tolin’s cloak in hand. “If you are going outside you’ll need this.” He handed the cloak to him.

“Thank you, squire.” Tolin grabbed his cloak from Jarvis, donning it as he made his way out to the courtyard. Once outside, the wind picked up and he realized that it had started to snow. He saw a woman by the well and went to meet her. “Kit?” he called, walking up behind her. She slowly turned around. Her face was red and her body shivered from the cold. “Kit? Why are you out here in the cold without a covering?”

“I—I just needed some fresh air, that’s all.” She flashed a quick smile that didn’t meet her eyes. Then he noticed her swipe her cheek with the back of her hand. Was that a tear she was trying to hide? “Was there something you needed, Lord Tolin? I mean, Lord of Misrule?”

Her words only made the situation worse. He had meant to reprimand her, but instead, he found himself removing his cloak, wanting to comfort her instead. She looked up at him and blinked away a tear. Those eyes drew him in and clenched around his heart. He actually felt sorry for her.

“You need this more than me. To keep warm.” He gently wrapped his cloak around her. She reached up with one hand and clutched it to keep it closed. “However, I must say that I also know what you tried to do and I am not happy about it.”

Her head jerked upward. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I’m talking about this.” He held up the bean in two fingers. “You were trying to give it to Oliver weren’t you? Just admit it. You wanted him to be the winner of the game.”

Fear showed in her eyes. Then it changed to sadness. She looked down but didn’t answer. There was an awkward silence between them.

“The cake was delicious,” he said quietly, wanting to pay her a compliment. “You are an exceptional baker, Kit.”

“It is who I am. It’s my life. It’s what I do.” Her words came out sounding forceful. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I need to get back to the kitchen and finish my work for the night. The morning comes quickly.” She removed the cloak and handed it to him. “Thank you, but I have my own cloak and won’t be foolish enough to venture out into the cold without it again.” She walked away but he didn’t want to let her go.

“Kit,” he called after her, causing her to stop and turn around. “I would like a dance with you tonight.”

At first she looked pleased, but then she looked angry. “I’m sorry, but I have work to do.”

“It’s not a request,” he told her, not liking the way she was trying her best to turn him down.

“Not a request?” She cocked her head. “I see. So, it is the first order from the Lord of Misrule, then.”

“Nay, I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t need to. I know the way the game works, my lord.”

“Don’t be that way, Kit,” he said in a deep voice, not wanting the girl to think it was an order. He only said it because he wanted to spend more time with her. Why couldn’t she see that?

“What way did you want me to be?” she asked coldly.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

“Hate...you?” Her voice was broken and breathy. “Is that what you think?”

“What else can I think?” He took a few steps closer to her. “Every time I’m near you, you are either fighting with me, or trying to run away.”

“I—I’m not. Not doing that, my lord.”

“Then you’ll meet me on the dance floor when you finish your work.”

Her eyes snapped up and drilled into him. He wasn’t sure at all what she was thinking.

“As you wish, Lord of Misrule.” She turned and ran back to the keep, leaving him standing alone, feeling like a loser even though he’d just won the title of Lord of Misrule.