Twelfth Night by Flora Speer Page A

had been an Englishman, she was
a direct spiritual descendant of these people. With a full heart
and in sincere humility she stayed by Adam’s side, where he had
said he wanted her to be, kneeling when he knelt, standing when he
stood, until the lengthy service was over.
    But the festivities were just beginning. No
one at Shotley had eaten or drunk a thing since the light repast at
midday. Now it was time for the first of the Christmas feasts. It
had all been prepared beforehand. They started with the oysters
Adam had brought home from London. Then it was on to a roasted side
of beef, cold meat pies, cakes dripping with honey and nuts,
cheeses, beer, wine, cider, perry
    “Now do we light the Yule log?” Aline
asked.
    “Not until later,” Adam said. “First, we have
another Mass at daylight.”
    Aline slept only an hour or two that night
and was up at first light, which was not actually very early
because of the late midwinter rising of the sun. There was no sun
that Christmas day, for a blizzard had begun. It mattered not at
all to the inhabitants of Shotley Castle. Inside the stone walls
all was torchlight and firelight and merriment.
    In late morning the great Christmas feast
began. There were so many courses of roasted meat, oblong meat
pies, stewed meats with vegetables, fine white bread made
especially for this day, wine, and sweets that Aline soon lost
track of all she had eaten. There was even a whole roasted pig with
an apple in its mouth. Connie had told her when she protested about
the sheer volume of food that the scraps, along with extra food
that Adam had ordered prepared for the purpose, would be handed out
at the castle gate to any beggars who appeared there.
    “But I do not think many souls will be abroad
today,” Connie added. “The weather is too unpleasant.”
    When the long meal was over and the afternoon
was drawing toward evening, Adam rose from the high table. With
Blaise, Connie, and Aline following him, he went to the Yule log.
Amid much laughter, Adam sat down on the log. There he told a joke
about a knight in battle that brought tears of laughter to
everyone’s eyes except for Aline, who did not understand the punch
line. But she laughed politely and then applauded when Blaise took
Adam’s place sitting on the log and recited a story. Next it was
Connie’s turn. She sane a little song in a surprisingly sweet
voice, and actually smiled at her husband when Blaise joined in the
last line.
    “Now you, Aline,” Adam said, taking her hand
and pulling her over to the log. “Before we can light it, everyone
here must tell a story or a jest, or sing a song.”
    “But I don’t know any stories. And I sing
badly.”
    “You may not be excused,” Adam told her with
mock severity. “If you do not perform, you will bring bad luck upon
our house.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t want to do that, after
you’ve been so nice to me,” she said. “Just remember, I did warn
you about my voice.” She launched into “The Twelve Days Of
Christmas.” By the time she got to the five golden rings, everyone
was singing along with her, enjoying the repetition of verses. Her
performance ended on a burst of applause.
    “Next, the captain of the guard,” Blaise
called out, and a burley, bearded man took Aline’s place on the
log.
    After everyone in the great hall finally
finished sitting on the Yule log, it was rolled into the fireplace
where, at last, with a ceremonial flourish and shouted wishes for
good fortune in the coming year for all who dwelt at Shotley
Castle, Adam lit it. There was little question that it would burn,
since there were already other, smaller logs ablaze in the
fireplace and a good supply of kindling had also been heaped around
the Yule log to make certain it would catch fire.
    A short time later, Adam pushed his way
through the crowd to Aline’s side.
    “Look there,” he said, turning her so she
could see Blaise and Connie standing under the arch at the entrance
to the hall. As they