Master of Mayhem (The Enchanted Well #2)

Chapter Four

I t was strange the way the forbidden beckoned with such irresistible temptation.

Modesty was up long before the horizon brightened with the first hint of dawn. She opened the single window they had in their loft so that she could peer into the early morning hours and watch May Day arrive.

She didn’t want to waste a single second of it.

The wind blew, but this time, instead of the dry sound of bare, frozen branches rustling, there was a softer sound. New spring growth was beginning. There was a chill in the air, but it lacked the bite of winter.

“Is it time?” Temperance muttered still half asleep.

“If we want everyone to believe we’ve gone to the work shed, we’d best go now before mother and father decide we must keep the doors shut against May Day wickedness,” Modesty confirmed.

Temperance didn’t need any more encouragement. She was out of bed and straightening the covers in a flash. They both crept down the steps and picked up the bundle of food their mother had left on the table for them.

Modesty collected their shoes before easing the door open while she held her breath and hoped the hinges wouldn’t creak. She didn’t want her parents to rethink allowing them to go to the shed to work.

Venturing out into the darkness should have been familiar. The work shed was where the wool was stored. During the long days of winter, Temperance had carded and spun while Modesty knit the newly produced yarn into garments that would be sold or traded.

Leaving before the sun rose was quite normal. Yet today it felt different. Modesty felt the air cool her cheeks. The air smelled wet and new, sparking a sense of new beginnings inside of her. The Celts called this day Beltane. It marked the boundary between fire and ice. Today was the day that life began to flow through the land once more.

She felt it in the wind.

In fact, Modesty would have sworn she could hear the buzz of every living thing waking up after the long winter. It was a feeling that went all the way to her bones.

And she was eager to be a part of it. More than eager really. The truth was, she was desperate to run toward life because she felt as if the shadow of a life that lived inside the dark boundaries of obedience was stretching out its claw like fingers for her.

She had to escape before it claimed her.

They hurried up to the meadow. The horizon hadn’t yet turned pink, but the darkness of night was giving way to dawn allowing Modesty to see the Midnight Well. She stopped, staring at it.

“Do you believe the well is enchanted, Modesty?” Temperance asked beside her.

She did.

Modesty bit her lip, determined to not let her sister see her true thoughts. In the gray light of pre-dawn, the odds were in her favor.

“We should take our shoes off,” Temperance said.

Her sister sent her a smile full of anticipation. Modesty felt a spark of excitement inside of her. Like the snap of her fingers, it was a sharp, popping sound that let loose a flood of sensation.

She was eager to take her shoes off and indulge in the moment. She felt the dew through her stockings while she worked to unfashion her garters. Tiny little droplets of water soaked into the fabric.

Her skin longed to be free of the endless letters of clothing she wore. It was a bold idea, indulging in removing her clothing.

Oh, but was it rewarded!

When she freed one foot and dropped it down onto the grass so she could work the buckle of her other garter, the dew wet her bare skin. Modesty drew in a stiff breath. Beside her Temperance giggled.

“I have so missed May Day!” Temperance whispered brightly.

Taking time to roll her stockings was just too much to bear. Modesty stuffed them into her shoes and left them beside some heather. The dawn was pink with thick bolts of golden sunlight looking as if they were shooting straight up into heaven.

“Wait for me, Modesty!”

Modesty was already up. The first few steps invigorated her. The meadow was covered in new green grass, appearing so fresh and new. Further up, beyond the boundary of the meadow a gay tune floated on the morning air. Just a flute but it beckoned to them, inviting them to join the others who were up to celebrate the first day of spring.

Temperance caught up with her, clasping her hand before they ran toward the sound of the flute.

*

Ruben blinked, wondering if he was still sleeping.

The sound of the flute continued, filling the dawn with a lively melody. He’d forgotten that it was May Day. He looked at the Midnight Well but decided not to question the gift he’d just received from fate or whatever unseen power was at work.

Modesty and her sister were heading up into the borderland. Skipping along hand in hand to a place where Scots and English mingled freely. He cast one cautious look back toward the house where the girls lived. The shutters were still sealed tight.

The family’s Puritan beliefs would keep those shutters firmly latched against the pagan festival the meadows and forest would be filled with for the next few hours.

Which meant he was free to indulge in mayhem with Modesty.

Ruben didn’t hesitate further. He set off after the girls. Past the top of the meadow there was a small work shed. The music was clearer here. A drum started up and then a piper joined in.

All around him, Ruben heard the rustling of other people coming through the forest to take part in the springtime festival. Some of them would stop to mop up dew and spread it across their faces. That was a tradition for the younger ones.

A deep pulse of longing would wind itself through those old enough to feel the burn of lust for the fertility ritual. Ruben wouldn’t judge them. Life was a mysterious, wonderous thing. Every religion claimed new birth was a blessing from beyond the boundaries of mortality.

He believed it was so.

The shadows and chill that had invaded his home resulted in hunger gnawing on his insides. Nothing could have stopped him from following the sounds of that piper. Tomorrow he would remember that duty was the path he had to walk.

Today he was going to dance upon the green with the woman who had been smiling at him in his dreams.

And the devil could take whoever thought to come between them.

*

No one said they weren’t welcome.

Modesty and Temperance found their way to where the musicians were playing. Already dozens and dozens of people were dancing. They offered open hands in invitation, encouraging everyone to join them in the circle. They danced around a huge old oak tree. Lengths of colorful ribbon tapered down from the branches.

The musicians came together and began to play in unison. The music was rich and matched the tempo her heart was pounding in. When the different instruments combined, the sky turned golden.

All the dancers stopped circling. In one motion they danced up toward the trunk of the oak tree, ending up shoulder to shoulder so they might fit. For one moment, they were all sharing the same air, pressing close so that they could feel one another’s body heat and then the music swelled, and they went turning and turning and turning in little circles away from the trunk of the tree.

Temperance crumpled down to her knees from being dizzy. Modesty maintained her balance but stopped and laughed as it felt as if her head just kept going round and round. The earth was moist and smelled of early spring flowers.

“You should have your hair down!”

It was a good-natured instruction, hurled out at Modesty and Temperance from a woman who was laughing. She pointed at them.

“Off with those modesty caps!”

Compliance had never come so easily to her. Modesty found the tiny button that secured the chin strap of her skull cap. It popped free, making her feel as if she might draw a deep breath for the first time in a very long time.

Temperance was ahead of her. She’d removed her cap and combed through her hair with her fingers. The drummer started up again, hitting his sticks together to herald the next round of dancing. Everyone grabbed each other’s hands. Modesty went with her cap still clinging to her head.

The music was faster now. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face, but Modesty kept up. They danced in one direction and then when the musicians jumped and turned around, the dancers all reversed direction. They crisscrossed their steps to ward off bad luck and raised their faces to the dawn so that light would fill their days with warmth and a good harvest.

But before they all ran back up toward the trunk of the grandfather tree, there was a round of giggles. From somewhere up on the other side of the ring, the Hobby Horse arrived.

A man danced into the ring with the wooden costume of the Hobby Horse on his shoulders. Thick leather straps kept the horse body around his torso and its long neck was out in front of the horse with a small set of ears and a mouth that the wearer could work open and closed with a string. A fabric skirt came down to his waist, but it didn’t hide the kilt that he wore.

Modesty gasped. The man himself was wearing a leather mask, but she knew it was Ruben.

“Don’t worry, Modesty,” Temperance giggled beside her. “You are getting married tomorrow, so the Hobby Horse can nip you this year.”

Modesty turned a stunned look toward her sister. Temperance giggled in response. Modesty was still struggling to accept that she was going to become a wife before the week was finished, much less thinking about having her own children. Or creating them.

She looked toward Ruben. Her cheeks grew hotter. Something about him beckoned to her. She just wanted to get closer to him and the impulse was nearly impossible to ignore.

The musicians began to play for the Hobby Horse. For his part, Ruben lifted his knees high, prancing back and forth while he pulled on the string that operated the mouth of the horse.

Snap-snap-snap.

“We need a May queen!”

The May queen was an important symbol. If the girl became pregnant, it was the sign of a good, bountiful harvest to come. The roots of the tradition ran back a millennium. Even if they were all Christians now, the superstition still had very deep roots.

“My sister is getting married tomorrow!” Temperance called out.

People turned to look toward them, hopeful expressions on their faces.

“It’s true,” Temperance confirmed.

The crowd needed no further urging. They surrounded Modesty, pushing her forward and standing at her back so that she had no possibility of escape. Her linen cap was gone, and her hair combed out.

“Here, dear,” a woman said softy. “A crown of new heather.”

The crown was beautiful. Lovely heather blooms were all braided and tied together in a cornet. Modesty bent over so the woman could place it on top of her head.

“There, ye are a fine May queen.”

There was a soft hint of Scotland in her tone. There on the borderland, Scots, Welsh, and English all mingled freely as their ancestors had done.

That was why Ruben was there.

Modesty looked toward the Hobby Horse. An insane bubble of happiness felt as if it was lodged inside of her when she took the first step toward him. For just this moment, she was his bride. The May queen and the Hobby Horse would play out the ritual tradition of fertility.

Her steps had never felt so light. Her direction was so very true. Ruben was watching her, their gazes locked. He began to dance toward her, weaving back and forth. The musicians played in time with his steps while the rest of the dancers started up the ring dance again.

Modesty was at the center of it all. Somehow, it was the perfect wedding she’d dreamed of as a girl. Overhead the sky turned blue, the day fully broken. She was excited, happiness bubbling inside of her like a spring creek full of rushing water.

“I protest.”

Modesty almost hissed at the newcomer.

There was a snap-snap-snap from the wooden mouth of the Hobby Horse. The sound drew an arrogant chuckle from the man who strode boldly between her and the Hobby Horse. He swept her from head to toe, a glint appearing in his eyes.

“Such a magnificent May queen shouldn’t be wasted on a Hobby Horse,” he declared.

“I assure ye, boy,” Ruben argued, “I do nae plan to waste even a wee bit of her.”

The dancers hooted with laughter, enjoying the scarlet play on words. The newcomer stood unperturbed, staring back at Ruben with a confident grin on his lips.

“I am Jasper Hardwin.”

Ruben pointed at Jasper. “What ye are is interrupting.”

Jasper chuckled. He was arrogant but strangely attractive. Not at all the ugly trait her father had spent many evenings lecturing the family on the ugliness of such a demeanor.

“I disagree….good Horse,” Jasper poked more fun at Ruben. “I am doing my best to entice this lovely May queen away from you.”

“She will not choose you,” Ruben declared.

He shrugged off the wooden frame of the Hobby Horse and tugged the mask off. Modesty saw Jasper’s eyes narrow as he took in the wide shoulders that had been hidden from his view.

“Fight for her!”

“Only the champion will win the May queen!”

The revelers called out encouragement to the two men. Temperance was suddenly there, tugging Modesty back a few paces. Her heart felt as if it was in her throat when the two men began to circle one another.

But Ruben winked at her.

Several of the women around her giggled, proving that they’d seen it.

“You’ve got good luck,” one of them whispered. “Two fine bucks fighting over you.”

Modesty didn’t think it good luck at all. Jasper was a hardened man too. Both had wide shoulders and solid frames. The contest might go to either of them. That idea filled her with dread, for she did not want to belong to Jasper, even for the short time of the May Day celebration.

It was a rejection that seemed to well up from deep inside of her. The intensity of the sensation was almost frightening because it threatened to overwhelm her.

But the men were intent on one another. They took slow, measured steps around each other. Jasper unbuttoned his doublet, stripping it off to reveal his shirt.

The music died away. No matter how lighthearted the challenge had been, everyone watching knew this was a very serious match. One that might end in blood.