accumulated
until they reached a certain density, then all at once the
festivities would be in full swing.
Pug ran from the kitchen. His room in
the northmost tower, the magician’s tower as it had become
known, provided him with a shortcut through the kitchen, which he
used rather than the main doors of the keep. He beamed as he sped
across the courtyard in his new tunic and trousers. He had never worn
such finery and was in a hurry to show his friend Tomas.
He found Tomas leaving the soldiers’
commons, nearly as much in a hurry as Pug. When the two met, they
both spoke at once.
“Look at the new tunic—”
said Pug.
“Look at my soldier’s
tabard—” said Tomas.
Both stopped and broke into laughter.
Tomas regained his composure first.
“Those are very fine clothes, Pug,” he said, fingering
the expensive material of Pug’s red tunic. “And the color
suits you.”
Pug returned the compliment, for Tomas
did cut a striking figure in his brown-and-gold tabard. It was of
little consequence that he wore his regular homespun tunic and
trouser underneath. He would not receive a soldier’s uniform
until Master Fannon was satisfied with his worthiness as a
man-at-arms.
The two friends wandered from one
heavily laden table to another. Pug’s mouth watered from the
rich fragrances in the air. They came to a table heaped with meat
pies, steam rising from their hot crusts, pungent cheeses, and hot
bread. At the table a young kitchen boy was stationed with a
shoo-fly. His job was to keep pests from the food, whether of the
insect variety or the chronically hungry apprentice variety. Like
most other situations involving boys, the relationship between this
guardian of the feast and the older apprentices was closely bound by
tradition. It was considered ill-mannered and in poor taste merely to
threaten or bully the smaller boy into parting with food before the
start of the feast. But it was considered fair to use guile, stealth,
or speed in gaining a prize from the table.
Pug and Tomas observed with interest as
the boy, named Jon, delivered a wicked whack to the hand of one young
apprentice seeking to snag a large pie. With a nod of his head, Tomas
sent Pug to the far side of the table. Pug ambled across Jon’s
field of vision, and the boy watched him carefully. Pug moved
abruptly, a feint toward the table, and Jon leaned in his direction.
Then suddenly Tomas snatched a puff-pastry from the table and was
gone before the shoo-fly lash began to descend. As they ran from the
table, Pug and Tomas could hear the distressed cries of the boy whose
table they had plundered.
Tomas gave Pug half the pie when they
were safely away, and the smaller apprentice laughed. “You’re
the quickest hand in the castle, I bet.”
“Or young Jon was slow of eye for
keeping it on you.”
They shared a laugh. Pug popped his
half of the pie into his mouth. It was delicately seasoned, and the
contrast between the salty pork filling and the sweet puff-pastry
crust was delicious.
The sound of pipes and drums came from
the side courtyard as the Duke’s musicians approached the main
courtyard. By the time they had emerged around the keep, a silent
message seemed to pass through the crowd. Suddenly the kitchen boys
were busy handing out wooden platters for the celebrants to heap food
upon, and mugs of ale and wine were being drawn from the barrels.
The boys dashed to a place in line at
the first table. Pug and Tomas used their size and quickness to good
advantage, darting through the throng, snagging food of every
description and a large mug of foamy ale each.
They found a relatively quiet corner
and fell to with ravenous hunger. Pug tasted his first drink of ale
and was surprised at the robust, slightly bitter taste. It seemed to
warm him as it went down, and after another experimental taste he
decided that he liked it.
Pug could see the Duke and his family
mingling with the common folk. Other members of his court could also
be seen
until they reached a certain density, then all at once the
festivities would be in full swing.
Pug ran from the kitchen. His room in
the northmost tower, the magician’s tower as it had become
known, provided him with a shortcut through the kitchen, which he
used rather than the main doors of the keep. He beamed as he sped
across the courtyard in his new tunic and trousers. He had never worn
such finery and was in a hurry to show his friend Tomas.
He found Tomas leaving the soldiers’
commons, nearly as much in a hurry as Pug. When the two met, they
both spoke at once.
“Look at the new tunic—”
said Pug.
“Look at my soldier’s
tabard—” said Tomas.
Both stopped and broke into laughter.
Tomas regained his composure first.
“Those are very fine clothes, Pug,” he said, fingering
the expensive material of Pug’s red tunic. “And the color
suits you.”
Pug returned the compliment, for Tomas
did cut a striking figure in his brown-and-gold tabard. It was of
little consequence that he wore his regular homespun tunic and
trouser underneath. He would not receive a soldier’s uniform
until Master Fannon was satisfied with his worthiness as a
man-at-arms.
The two friends wandered from one
heavily laden table to another. Pug’s mouth watered from the
rich fragrances in the air. They came to a table heaped with meat
pies, steam rising from their hot crusts, pungent cheeses, and hot
bread. At the table a young kitchen boy was stationed with a
shoo-fly. His job was to keep pests from the food, whether of the
insect variety or the chronically hungry apprentice variety. Like
most other situations involving boys, the relationship between this
guardian of the feast and the older apprentices was closely bound by
tradition. It was considered ill-mannered and in poor taste merely to
threaten or bully the smaller boy into parting with food before the
start of the feast. But it was considered fair to use guile, stealth,
or speed in gaining a prize from the table.
Pug and Tomas observed with interest as
the boy, named Jon, delivered a wicked whack to the hand of one young
apprentice seeking to snag a large pie. With a nod of his head, Tomas
sent Pug to the far side of the table. Pug ambled across Jon’s
field of vision, and the boy watched him carefully. Pug moved
abruptly, a feint toward the table, and Jon leaned in his direction.
Then suddenly Tomas snatched a puff-pastry from the table and was
gone before the shoo-fly lash began to descend. As they ran from the
table, Pug and Tomas could hear the distressed cries of the boy whose
table they had plundered.
Tomas gave Pug half the pie when they
were safely away, and the smaller apprentice laughed. “You’re
the quickest hand in the castle, I bet.”
“Or young Jon was slow of eye for
keeping it on you.”
They shared a laugh. Pug popped his
half of the pie into his mouth. It was delicately seasoned, and the
contrast between the salty pork filling and the sweet puff-pastry
crust was delicious.
The sound of pipes and drums came from
the side courtyard as the Duke’s musicians approached the main
courtyard. By the time they had emerged around the keep, a silent
message seemed to pass through the crowd. Suddenly the kitchen boys
were busy handing out wooden platters for the celebrants to heap food
upon, and mugs of ale and wine were being drawn from the barrels.
The boys dashed to a place in line at
the first table. Pug and Tomas used their size and quickness to good
advantage, darting through the throng, snagging food of every
description and a large mug of foamy ale each.
They found a relatively quiet corner
and fell to with ravenous hunger. Pug tasted his first drink of ale
and was surprised at the robust, slightly bitter taste. It seemed to
warm him as it went down, and after another experimental taste he
decided that he liked it.
Pug could see the Duke and his family
mingling with the common folk. Other members of his court could also
be seen
Similar Books
