Chapter 11
Kallen wondered why apples would put Sir Griffith in such a foul mood. Ever since Lady Percival announced their arrival, her companion sat sullen and silent. All their earlier conversation about Samhain came to an abrupt end.
She turned her attention to the baskets of large apples, a deep, rich red in color.
It seemed as if several dozen arrived now with various servants.
She wondered if this last course of apples would end tonight’s feast. Mayhap Sir Griffith did not favor apples.
He might have been disappointed that no more solteties would appear.
“We will commence with the peeling,” Lady Percival bellowed, her voice carrying over the giggles that broke out across the room.
“Each unmarried female is to receive one. Please distribute them quickly,” the noblewoman ordered.
A servant came by and handed Kallen an apple, winking as he did so. The gesture surprised her.
“Gentlemen, please hand over your eating knives to any nearby ladies. Ladies, you may begin peeling when you are ready. And don’t forget, you must peel in one long strand and recite the rhyme for true love to avail itself.”
Kallen turned to Sir Griffith. His scowl frightened her as much as the angry red band now surrounding his body.
“What—”
“Hello, my dear.” Lady Percival appeared before them with a broad smile. “Are you ready to peel your apple?”
Kallen shook her head. “I am not familiar with this custom, my lady. If I—”
“Oh, nonsense. I shall help you.” Their hostess turned to Sir Griffith. “Your paring knife, my lord?”
The knight handed his knife to Kallen, his jaw set as if in stone.
“Now, my dear, begin to peel your apple’s skin and recite after me. And mind that you do so in one long strand.”
Kallen’s fingers shook. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
”I pare this apple round and round again, my sweetheart’s name to flourish on the plain.”
Carefully, she began peeling the fruit, repeating after Lady Percival.
“I fling the unbroken paring o’er my head, my sweetheart’s letter on the ground to read.”
Kallen absently repeated the words but concentrated more on removing the peel, especially because she had no experience in doing so. Fortunately, the knife did not slip and the task actually seemed easy. Soon, she’d sliced until she had one long swirl.
“Excellent, Lady Kallen,” Lord Percival told her as he came to stand next to his wife. “You peeled accurately and with remarkable speed. What other hidden talents have you kept from us?”
She felt her face flame. “’Tis not hard to peel an apple, my lord.”
“Toss the peel over your left shoulder,” he said.
She did as instructed and turned to see where it landed. The peel had fallen directly upon Sir Griffith’s left boot.
“Don’t move, my lord,” Lady Percival commanded. “We must read what the peel says.” She bent to the ground and studied the shape.
Kallen knelt beside her hostess. “Exactly what are we looking for, Lady Percival?”
Her hostess frowned. “The peel should form a letter, dear. That letter should tell who your sweetheart is.”
Kallen glanced down at the long strand of skin. “’Tis no letter that I recognize, my lady, and that makes perfect sense. I have no sweetheart nor plan to acquire one any time soon.”
The older woman sniffed. “’Twould have been easy to read had it not landed upon Sir Griffith’s foot.” She took the hand Lord Percival extended and stood. “We cannot determine your true love this way, Lady Kallen.”
Kallen’s blush ran up her neck and spilled onto her cheeks, causing her to grow warm. “Nay, my lady. I tell you that I have no sweetheart. This peel could not tell me anything, for there is nothing to reveal.”
The noblewoman studied her carefully. “You may not know, but the apples always do.” She smoothed her hands along her surcoat. “We cannot try this test again tonight. ‘Twould be bad luck, you know.”
Lady Percival thought for a moment and then smiled. “We shall use a snail for you instead. That will solve matters.”
Kallen thought she’d misheard the noblewoman. The great hall was filled with shouts of laughter and raised voices, as ladies everywhere were announcing to their friends the identity of their revealed sweetheart.
“Come, my dear.” Lady Percival took her hand and dragged Kallen toward the fire. She saw large wooden bowls of hazelnuts close by. Several women were counting out nuts and placing them in front of the fire’s grate.
“Ah, ‘tis the hazelnuts. Let us watch a moment,” Lady Percival said.
Kallen spied a girl about her age who set down three different hazelnuts. She solemnly chanted, “If you love me, pop and fly; if you hate me, burn and die.”
After a brief space of time, the second nut jumped from its place. The girl smiled broadly and crooked her finger at the crowd of bystanders.
“James, ‘tis you who leaped.” She ran to the man and threw her arms about him, and he kissed her soundly as those gathered nearby cheered.
Lady Percival whispered, “’Tis a way of divining your future husband, dear. All three nuts were named, and it seems that James is where the future leads.”
She patted Kallen’s shoulder. “I shan’t have you do that. The snail is much more telling. I hate to put out this fire, though. We shall just use a small corner instead.”
At the snap of her fingers, a servant appeared, a snail cradled in his palm.
“Just set it on the edge here, Bowman. No wood is here, and the ash has turned thick.”
Kallen watched in fascination as the snail began to slither along the gray ashes.
The noblewoman nodded, a satisfied gleam in her eye. “Do you see, Lady Kallen? ‘Tis a G the creature’s produced.”
Kallen thought it a rather poor S, but she didn’t want to upset her hostess. “Yes, ‘tis definitely a G, my lady,” she agreed, thinking it could also have been a C, O or even Q.
“Just as I thought. Considerate little creature.” She took Kallen’s hand, and they returned to where Sir Griffith and Lord Percival stood.
“Find what you wished to discover, Wife?” Lord Percival put an arm about his spouse’s shoulders.
“Yes. ‘Twas definitely a G.”
“Hmm.” Lord Percival seemed pleased. “Having used the snail will save you from the apple bobbing,” he continued. “That can be a messy business. Sometimes I think ‘tis the only reason for the bonfire, to allow the bobbers to dry out. Poor souls.”
Kallen glanced around and saw that large wooden tubs had been brought out and placed about the room.
Both men and women were plunging their faces into the water over and over.
Suddenly, a cheer was raised as a man lifted an apple from the water, having captured it with his teeth.
He removed it from his mouth and carefully examined it, calling out, “Tabitha!”
“Tabitha! Tabitha!” those around him repeated.
A blushing redhead took a step forth, her hands behind her back. The man handed her the apple and then lifted her from her feet and swung her around.
“I can see you are confused, Lady Kallen. ‘Tis all the ancient customs we follow,” Lord Percival explained. “If an apple peel does not take on a shape of a letter, then people may bob for apples. They are marked with the name of a possible lover.”
“I do think they’ll suit, do you not think so, my lord?” Lady Percival asked her husband.
“’Tis tradition. Of course, they’ll suit.” He looked at Kallen.
“We did not put your name upon any apples, my lady. You are but a stranger to those present, passing through. We thought it best not to try and link you with a lover through such a tradition.”
Mortified at the thought, Kallen mumbled, “I see.”
Lady Percival linked her arm through Kallen’s.
“’Tis quite all right, dear. We divined the G by the snail.
And just to assure you that is correct, I shall give you an apple to place beneath your pillow tonight.
You should dream of your love. But you must awaken before dawn and sit outside and eat this same apple.
If you do not feel cold, you will attain your desired sweetheart. ”
Kallen’s confusion mounted. She only knew a handful of men, and none of their names began with the letter G.
She decided this old custom was quaint but full of nonsense.
If Lady Percival insisted on presenting her with an apple, she would take it.
She had no intentions of sleeping with it, though, much less wandering about a strange bailey in the dark while she ate it.
‘Twas a sin to break her fast before attending mass, especially on such a special day as All Saint’s Day on the morrow.
She would not adhere to this tradition, no matter how kind the Percivals had been.
Griffith stepped across the room, approaching Kallen and Lady Percival. He saw the color spotting her cheeks. She obviously needed to be rescued. “This nonsense will continue for a while, my lady. Would you care for a bit of fresh air?”
Kallen nodded, and he could see her relief as her shoulders relaxed. “’Twould do me good, my lord. Thank you.” She turned to her hosts. “If you would excuse us?”
“But of course.” Lord Percival smiled benignly at Kallen. “We shall follow you shortly. The bonfire will be lit once the bobbing ceases.”
“Come.”
Griffith took her elbow and led her from the boisterous noise in the great hall. He found the door, and they moved out into the moonlit night.
“The wood for the bonfire has already been laid,” he told her. “’Tis just outside the castle walls. Mayhap you saw it when we rode in earlier.”
They strolled slowly through the inner and then outer baileys, the crowd noises dissipating with the distance.
“All Hallow’s Eve has some very strange customs,” Lady Kallen remarked.
“Some use it as an excuse to couple with another,” Griffith told her. “A pair might have had eyes on one another for a long time. This feast day and its customs simply give them an excuse to join up.”
“I wonder if true love exists between a man and woman,” she whispered, her tone serious.
“I know God loves us, both sinner and saint alike, and I have felt the love of a friend, that of Savina. It seems silly, though, to think just because you bob for an apple bearing a certain name that this person will fall in love with you.”
Griffith clenched his fists. “I would think that sometimes true love grows between a man and a woman. Most marriages of the nobility are arranged, but in time, I have known couples who come to love one another deeply.”
As I loved Carina.
The words echoed in Griffith’s head. He had loved every hair upon her head, the dimple in her smooth cheek, her slender legs and shapely ankles.
Yet he realized he’d thought of his wife little upon this journey back to Mangeron. His thoughts were taken up with being sure all were safe, taking the right routes, stopping at appointed times.
And in thinking of Kallen de Mangeron.
She was the first woman to make him forget Carina—if only for a little while.
And despite the guilt he felt, he reasoned that it was good every now and then to escape from his burden.
He’d spent two years in misery, the separation from his wife much like a physical pain.
Nothing interested him. No one brought laughter into his life.
He lived in a void, absent from all feeling.
Yet he’d come to see the world through Kallen’s eyes during the past few days. Each discovery became something new, each mile and day brought new experiences, and he had shared them along with her.
Was it time to release Carina from his heart?
Nay, he could never forget his sweet wife.
But did he have room in his heart to keep her memory alive and still go on living?
He’d been as dead himself since she’d been placed into the ground with their son.
Had such grief been so wrong? Had he retreated from the world, using Carina’s death as his excuse?
Did he even want to awaken from his nightmare? Was it easier to live in misery, or did he have courage enough to try and enjoy life once again?
Griffith smiled gently at Lady Kallen. “Your uncle and my sister are radiant examples of what love can bring between two such as they.”
“I was sure of it,” she declared. She turned her head and studied him a moment. “Your sour mood of earlier has left, I see.”
He looked at her blankly.
She sighed. “From the moment Lady Percival commanded the apples to be brought out, you sulked. You seem to be in much better spirits now, my lord.”
Griffith nodded. He and Carina had shared their first kiss on All Hallow’s Eve. He had bobbed for the apple with her name on in, knowing which one it was, determined to claim it before any other man did.
Yet now his mood was light, as if a heavy burden lifted from his soul.
“I dare say I am in high spirits, my lady.” He turned and listened a moment. “’Tis noise coming from the castle. It must be time to head toward the bonfire.”
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “I cannot wait to see this bonfire. It will be the first I have ever laid my eyes upon.”
“Then I shall escort you through the gates and to a place of your choosing.”
He slipped his arm through hers and led her toward the opened gates and out to the huge stack of wood. As they strolled, he pointed out various constellations to her.
“’Tis Cassiopeia there, and over here the ram.”
“The stars all have names?” she marveled. “I shall never view the night sky in the same way,” she mused.
Griffith gazed down at her. And I shall never look the same way at you.