There were many tall, pointed hats with veils fluttering in the mild breeze. There were ladies who shamelessly flaunted their assets in heavy corsets, probably raided from their grandmothers’ trunks. One or two boasted panniers, although the fabric covering them looked a bit moth-eaten and they had to take extraordinary care when walking between tables of food.
Overall, Giles was very pleased that everyone was so enthusiastic. Aside from the juggling, the children had other games to play, and Trick was there, on one side of the wide lawn, with more than a few interested faces waiting for a ride on the donkey. Many visitors had their hands full things as diverse as a jar of jam, a cake, or a covered plate of biscuits. Mrs B and Jane were handing out slices of pie, and Jeremy was busy making sure everyone could have several ladles of cold water should they be overcome with heat.
Giles headed to the table where the barrel of ale sat tucked into the shade. It would be his job to tap it and fill the tankards of the thirsty. There would be many on a day like this, he knew. Situated right next to Jeremy, the two of them would work together if need be, and there was a second barrel ready, just in case.
“A good day, Giles,” called Jeremy, wiping his forehead. “But I could do with less heat. Can you do something about it?”
Giles rolled his eyes. “I wish I could.” He began to put empty tankards out on the table, several rows to start with.
“’Tis a fine crowd,” said Mrs B. “I’ll take two o’ these, lad. Jane ‘as a fierce thirst an’ ale’s good fer ‘er.”
Giles filled two tankards. “The day going well for you, I hope?”
“Fine as can be, thank yer. We already sold ‘alf a dozen o’ my gooseberry pies. Them tarts are flyin’ off the table, an’ I reckon we’ll be done a’fore too long.” She glanced up at the sky. “Storm’s a’comin’.”
“I know.” Giles nodded. “Not much we can do about it. But you might let people know that the doors to our ballroom are unlocked. If it turns bad, they can shelter in there. No chairs or anything, and probably a few mice, but it’s dry.”
“Good idea.” The older woman nodded. “I’ll let ‘em know.” She took her tankards and made her way back to her tent.
Royce and Gabriel made their way up, shiny with sweat and panting a little. “Ahhh, ale. Yes.” Royce grabbed an empty tankard and held it out to Giles. “Fill it. Please. Have pity on a dying man.”
Giles did so, handing it back with a grin. “You surprised me. Both of you.” His glance took in Gabriel as well. “I was impressed with your juggling skills.” A tankard for Gabriel followed his statement.
Neither man answered for a moment or two while they slaked their thirsts. Then Royce wiped his mouth on his sleeve, sighed with pleasure and grinned. “Neither of us knew the other one could do it,” he said. “So when I saw Gabriel juggling, and took the chance to see whether I could still do it…well, the show was born.”
“You’re damn good at it,” complimented Gabriel, belching slightly. “God, that’s good, Giles. Thank you.”
A rumble in the distance made a lot of people pause and turn to look over their shoulders.
“Damn,” said Royce. “Those are not friendly clouds.”
Giles had to agree. On the far horizon, behind the hills surrounding Wolfbridge, lurked a massive gathering of darkness, black and grey clouds tipped with white where the sunlight could hit them. They were not, as Royce so aptly put it, friendly clouds.
“Couple of hours yet, I’d say,” offered Gabriel.
“I agree. Let’s hope the winds change and blow it in another direction.”
Gwyneth’s voice brought all their heads around. She’d walked up, unseen, as they were focussing on the storm brewing to the west.
“My Lady,” bowed Giles. “Magnificent as always.”
She shook her head. “Nonsense. But I do feel quite Medieval, thanks to this garb and my flowers.” She touched her hand to her head. “And it seems as though everyone is enjoying themselves.”
“I’ve heard nothing but praise,” said Jeremy, coming up to her with a deep ladle filled with water. “Here. You might not want an ale, but you should drink plenty of water in this weather.”
She gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, Mama.”
He sighed. “I try. But really. Children, these days.” He looked at Giles and shrugged. “There’s no accounting for them.”
The laughter echoed around them, and everyone nearby smiled.
Two hours later, Giles realised that the predictions of bad weather would indeed come to pass. The heat was oppressive, the air barely moved, and Jeremy had long since left his post at the water barrel and joined Giles handing out tankards of ale.
Even the children seemed to have slowed, although the fact that Evan’s food was being devoured at a rapid rate might have contributed to the general sense of lassitude that spread over the fête.
Gwyneth was wandering around, stopping here and there, chatting with everyone, laughing with the wives, charming the husbands and going down on one knee to speak with the little ones.
She had come a long way, Giles thought to himself as he saw her accept a baby and cradle it for a little while before handing it back. In good health, she was a pleasure to look at. In sound mind, she was a force to be reckoned with.
