The house offered little more protection for his family. It sat upon the flat earth, and once its door was broken in, its inhabitants were vulnerable. Still, Ashlin was better defended now than it had been. The walls were higher, the men-at-arms better trained. He must trust Fulk and his agreement with the Welsh to leave the manor in peace.
As he considered all of this, Ranulf realized that his mission for Duke Henry was of vast importance to his future, and that of his family. Perhaps he might even foster out Simon one day to the new queen’s household, as Elf had suggested when their son was born. The lord of a castle had more social standing than the lord of a simple manor. He laughed, knowing that he was aiming very, very high in his ambitions. First they needed permission for a castle to be built at Ashlin. To that end he would strive.
The growing season was proving to be a good one so far. The rains had been plentiful, but gentle. The days warm, the nights cool, yet not cold. The grain was growing well. They waited eagerly for dry weather during which they could cut the hay that would be used for the next twelve months. Elf’s garden of herbs flourished by her herbarium. The sheep and the cattle grew fat on the sweet grass.
Midsummer’s Eve was upon them before they knew it. There would be a fine celebration, of course. The lord of the manor declared a holiday, as was customary. Many at Ashlin rose early to view the sunrise. As it was a fair day, the sight was glorious. The sky lightened slowly, the deep blue of night growing to a brighter shade, the horizon warming: lemon at first, then gold, purple, and orange. The birds began to sing and chirp even as the sun pushed itself above the border between earth and sky, blazing fiery and red. It was going to be the perfect summer’s day.
Already from the bake house the scent of St. John’s bread baking wafted on the soft breeze. Made from locust seedpods, it was a delicacy served only at the Midsummer’s Eve feast, which would be hosted for the entire manor by the lord and lady of Ashlin. The sheep selected for the feast were driven from the near meadow close to two pits, dug out of the meadow grass, where they would be roasted. Meat was not an everyday occurrence for the serfs. Piglings, stuffed with cheese, bread, nuts, and spices would be served along with a roe deer. Entrayale, a sheep’s stomach filled with eggs, cheese, vegetables, bread, and pork was baking, along with Black-manger, a dish of chicken, rice, almonds, and sugar. There would be spiced lamprey eels, creamed cod, and salmon. There would be a special Frumenty pudding of apples and spices added to wheat, sugar, and milk. There was cheese and butter and curd cheese. And special Destiny Cakes, shaped like common items such as birds, beasts, houses, ships, and household items. There was mead flavored with honey and mint; Cuckoo-foot ale, a sparkling beverage made with ginger, basil, and anise.
Some wandering musicians had come to the manor the evening before asking for shelter. Now they set themselves up to entertain for the lord and lady. They played upon a rebec, drums, frestelles, which were panpipes, a pibgorn, a reed instrument, bells, and a tambourine. Their tunes were lively, and dancers pranced gaily upon the green. Archery butts were set up for shooting contests. Footraces were run. The young girls played Saint-John's-Wort, using sprigs of the plant and its deep yellow flowers to determine if they would have true love or no love at all. There was a great deal of giggling when Willa’s flowers ended with a loves me, and glances were cast in the direction of the young squire, Pax, followed by more giggles while Willa blushed red. A hunt was held for St. John’s fern, which was said to render its finder invisible at will, but sadly none was found.
"Come to the wet fire ceremony," Arthur cried to them as the early evening came.
The manor’s inhabitants hurried to the millpond, where small wooden boats were already prepared, a wish previously carved on each boat by its owner. Lighted candles were carefully placed in the miniature vessels, which were then set afloat upon the waters of the millpond. The mill wheel turned, ruffling the surface of the pond and its adjacent stream. The tiny ships bobbed across their tiny sea, some sinking when they found themselves too near the wheel, others having their candles blown out. But those boats that safely gained the other side of the millpond with their candles still alight guaranteed their owners that their wishes would be fulfilled.
"Both of our boats have arrived safely," Elf said, smiling. "What did you wish for?"
"To come quickly back to you," he said. "What did you wish for, petite?"
"The same thing," she said softly, reaching for his hand.
"The bonfires are being lit!" came a cry, and hand in hand the lord and lady of the manor walked back to the meadow.
The fires sprang up around them as they seated themselves at their trestle again. The long day was finally waning. The last of the feast was consumed along with ale and mead. The sunset blazed pink, purple, orange, green, and gold beyond the western hills. The musicians began to play again, even as Cedric nodded a signal to his lord and lady. Elf and Ranulf stood up. With Ranulf leading, Elf took his hand and that of Willa, who took the hand of Ranulf’s squire, Pax, who took another hand which took another, and another. Together they all danced in a line, weaving about and among the several fires in an ancient dance called "Threading the Needle." The sun sank away. The sky above them grew dark. The music grew wilder, more primitive until suddenly without warning it stopped. About them was silence. There was not a single sound. Then the fires were quickly doused, and Ashlin’s people moved off silently into the night. Some returned to their homes. Young lovers simply slipped off into the darkness. The lord took his lady’s hand, and led her indoors. Midsummer’s Eve was over, and tomorrow was a working day.
"Willa has gone off," Ida muttered disapprovingly. "I will see to your needs, my lady."
"Nay, find your bed, old woman," Ranulf said quietly. "I can help my wife undress as well as you can."
"And have more fun doing it, too, lord" came the ribald answer. "Heh! Heh!"
He chuckled, then still hand in hand they entered the solar, leaving the rest of the world behind them.
Elf turned and slipped her arms about her husband’s neck, looking up into his face. "Soon you will be gone from me to Normandy," she said softly. "I know not how long you will be gone. I am bold, I know, Ranulf, but I would have you make love to me. It has been so long since our bodies were last joined in passion." Her sweet glance was warm, and her silvery gray eyes shone with her open desire for him.
"I would not hurt you," he replied.
Elf laughed softly. "I vow, my lord, you are the kindest man I have ever known, which, of course, is not saying a great deal as I have known no other but you. If I did not know better, I would be certain that you had a lover among the serfs. But I do know better," she hastily amended seeing his startled look. "Ranulf, my lord, my good husband, I have from the beginning enjoyed the pleasures our bodies give us. We have not had that pleasure in months now, and you are about to go off in a few days to Normandy for an indeterminate length of time. Do you not think we might indulge ourselves until then? I have healed quickly, thanks to my herbs and teas." She smiled winningly up at him, and her hand caressed his cheek. "Do you not want to make love to me? Perhaps it is not as difficult for a man as it is for a woman. I must by my own honor and nature remain chaste while you are gone; but perhaps that is not the case with you. Perhaps when you reach Duke Henry’s court, you will indulge your lusts with some beautiful and elegant woman of the court!" Her eyes suddenly flashed, and Elf stamped her foot angrily. "By the rood, I will not have it!" She began to pound upon his chest with her small, balled-up fists.