The Order of the Lily (43 page)

‘Agh,' roared Mouse, dropping his arm around a disappointed Griffith, ‘you let her get away, man! Now,
there
is a maid who needs bedding, if I ever saw one. Come, lad, join me in your victory ale, and I promise you, if she does not return by the time we finish, I'll go fetch her back myself.'

For the next couple of days, life was nothing short of mayhem in the Albret household. Gillet was elated as the men pitched in to complete the remaining tasks. Game was slaughtered and pickled or smoked, grain crushed and stored, and the partially-rebuilt stable would now offer sufficient protection against the coming of winter.

The cousins undertook the training of several horses, Griffith assisting, while, perched on the fence like Noël turtledoves, Mouse, Guiraud and Gabriel offered well-meant but useless advice. They all agreed upon one thing only. Their disputes would be settled in a quintain session, in full armour, on the day following Christmas.

By two days before Christmas, all minor repairs to the tenants' cottages had been completed and stores of fuel, meat and grain were replenished, ready for winter quarter. Gabriel and Guiraud hunted with the gamekeeper, while Armand and Gillet ferreted through the armoury. Mouse offered his assistance and had been very successful collecting the quarterly rents. With pantries and cellars bursting, grain sheds overflowing, and enough wood to burn until summer, prayers of thanks for such abundance were offered up in the chapel.

The evenings in the hall were filled with revelry. The Yule log was lit and whole, succulent beasts slow-roasted on spits. The ale flowed and so did the tales, the most popular the recent hunt for the Yule boar, an event that Gillet and his companions had richly anticipated. With copious bantering they related the final trapping, and how the beast, cornered and spent and riddled with spears, made a last desperate stand.

‘The spiny pig charged,' declared an animated Armand, as his owl-eyed audience gasped. ‘And to avoid the needle-sharp tusks we scrambled up the trees. All except Mouse, here.'

‘I do not hide under skirts! Not even those of an oak,' blustered Mouse, gulping his ale.

‘What happened?' Too young for whiskers, the fledgling listeners gaped in awe.

‘Bah! Damned beast ran out of wind and collapsed at my feet.' There was a disappointed chorus of, ‘Oh.'

‘But,' rang out Armand, and instantly shoulders straightened, ‘not before yon friend here had breathed upon it, a most foul, heinous breath, more fearsome than that of a dragon!'

‘Ooooohh.'

‘Not likely to be from his mouth,' spluttered Guiraud, who received an elbow to the ribs.

The young charges were dismissed and the men regrouped. Cécile watched. So, this then was comradeship – the laughter that spills over between men, the humour that abounds, the many friendly punches – a brotherhood which carries an indefinable quality. It is what is taken into battle and if not for the sting of death that war delivers, Cécile thought it an enviable thing.

Noël began with ‘the light of salvation,' the Angels' Mass at midnight, followed by cups of mulled wine and spiced honey cakes. Cécile yawned sleepily as they rose again at dawn for the Shepherds' Mass. With religious observances all but complete, the hall filled with the estate's tenants, each paying tribute to Gillet as the various removes of soups, roasted game, fish sautéed in herbed butter, breads and puddings were served throughout the long day. The celebration of Christ had begun. The ale flowed steadily; so, too, the goodwill. A riotous cheer exploded near midday as the roasted Yule boar, minus its quills, was carried in by four bearers. Another separate platter followed in the regal procession. The head of the beast, now dressed and stuffed with spiced meat and complete with an apple in its mouth, was presented with much pomp and ceremony to Mouse. Another wild roar hailed the roasted bird centrepiece carried in next – ten birds, boned out and cooked one within the other; a lark, woodcock, quail, par-tridge, pigeon, pheasant, hen, duck and a goose were bound within a swan, the feathers reapplied and its head and neck still intact.

When the bell rang for the last Mass, they all filed into the chilly chapel once more. The spirited congregation conducted their hymn singing with gusto, and afterwards re-entered the warmth of the manor, the gaily decorated hall within, a stark contrast to the grey gloom outdoors.

Armand secured two full jugs of ale for his table as Margot sank beside Cécile, sighing wearily. ‘I have accepted my dis-charge from the kitchen. I am told not to return.'

‘The food has been truly magnificent, Margot,' replied Cécile.

Gillet added his appreciation as Armand, beaming ludicrously, pushed a full tankard in Margot's direction. ‘I can honestly declare that is the best banquet of which I have ever partaken.' He patted his bulging stomach in acknowledge-ment and let go a gurgling belch.

‘So, when does the afternoon's entertainment begin?' asked Gillet, glancing suspiciously at the false wall and the manger of hay occupying the dais. He turned to Cécile. ‘A Mummer's play? I believe this is your doing?'

‘If yonder “Joseph,” over there, is any indication,' noted Armand, in between gulps, ‘I think there may be some problem.'

A harried man in costume was gesticulating madly in their direction, and Cécile reluctantly rose. ‘Oh dear, I do hope the donkey is not being difficult.'

‘Donkey?'

Gillet was neatly sprayed with his cousin's ale.

Half an hour later Cécile had the gist of the matter. After much high hand-flinging, hair-wrenching and blasphemous insults that seemed rather out of place from one playing the father of Jesus, the actor explained that the young man who had been hired to perform the role of Mary had not arrived.

‘Madame, without Mary, this play simply cannot continue.' He eyed Cécile's condition with interest. ‘Unless, of course, there is someone else willing to take on the role, hmm?'

‘Oh, but you cannot mean me!'

He turned and calmly began to pack his equipment. Horrified at losing the Mummers she had employed for a surprise treat, Cécile grabbed his arm. ‘Wait!' His smile would have launched a fleet of ships and sent them happily to war. Ten minutes later Cécile was suitably robed, veiled and reciting her four lines.

The raucous din from the hall subsided abruptly when the first actor strode into the crude setting of Bethlehem and began his portrayal of the prophet, Micah.

‘And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, art not the least among the princes of Judah: for out of thee shall come a Gov-ernment that shall rule my people Israel.'

Nervously perched sideways on the beast, for the Mummers had been appalled at Cécile's suggestion that the mother of Jesus should ride astride, she rehearsed her four precious lines. ‘Oh, Joseph! The inn is full. There is no room. How shall we find a bed for the night? Oh, Joseph! The inn is full. There is no room. How shall we find a bed for the night?'

Henri, the largest of the wise men, sidled over to Cécile with some last minute advice. ‘Take heed, good lady, one of an actor's greatest achievements is to make himself believable. To do this, the audience must,
must
be able to hear your words. Remember to throw your voice.
Throw your voice
.' Demonstrating, his hands splayed from his mouth in an exaggerated fashion resembling a waterfall. ‘You have a noisy hall tonight, Madame, so you will have to work hard to reach the four corners.'

Cécile nodded resolutely, determined that Gillet would be proud of her portrayal of the delicate Mary. Under her breath she chanted, experimenting with different emphases, ‘Oh Joseph! The inn is
full
. There is no
room
.
How
shall we find a bed for the night? Oh Joseph! The
inn
is full. There is
no
room. How
shall
we find a bed for the night?' How? Or would ‘where' sound better?

It was time. The prophet introduced the first scene of Mary and Joseph arriving at the inn. Cécile's robed companion urged the compliant animal forward.

‘Oh,
Joseph
,' rehearsed Cécile. ‘The inn is full.
There
is no room.
Where
shall we find a bed for the night?'

‘Remember, milady,' whispered Henri,
‘throw your voice.'

‘Throw
my voice. Oh, Joseph! The
inn
is full. There is no
room
.
How
shall we find a bed for the night?' She was ready.

Joseph led Cécile out into view and made his way to the ‘inn door.' A boisterous outburst from one particular table greeted her entrance. A quick sideways glance confirmed Gillet's stunned look, his head, shaking in disbelief, descended to nestle into his outspread palm as the other four guffawed loudly.

As Joseph conversed with the innkeeper, Cécile ignored her ungracious spectators, and watched intently as he projected his voice. She would do the same, and muttered nervously to herself. ‘Oh, Joseph! The
inn
is full. There
is
no room. How
shall
we find a bed for the night?' Was it how or where?

Joseph tugged his signal on the rein. It was Cécile's turn. In her peripheral vision she saw Monsieur Waterfall spill over again, but the heckling from the front table unnerved her. Gillet grinned absurdly, Armand winked, and Gabriel, Guiraud and Mouse blew kisses, saluting with their cups. Cécile's heart began to pound and to her greatest horror, her mind went blank.

Joseph whispered frantically, ‘Madame! The inn … the room … the bed.'

Memory flooded back just as she caught Gillet's eye. She threw her hand to her brow in a dramatic portrayal and proclaimed in her loudest voice. ‘Oh Gillet! There is no inn. The room is full. Where will you bed me tonight?'

The hall fell deadly silent, stunned … then burst into ear-splitting chaos. Gillet doubled over in a fit of convulsions, Mouse collapsed onto the board, his head quivering in the crook of his arm as one fist hammered the table, and Gabriel gripped his stomach and howled at the moon. Guiraud and Armand had fallen from their seats, in a frenzy of fists and feet. Joseph was gaping open-mouthed and Monsieur Waterfall, his eyes like two full moons, had dried up.