“I thought they would never leave,” she exclaimed as she reined her horse to a halt.
Dismounted her palfrey, she went to the wagon and dug into one of the smaller satchels bearing linens. Immediately, she began to rub the black off her teeth. Ivy joined her and together they cleaned their teeth and laughed at their cleverness. Jubil dismounted her nag and brought forth her considerable case of medicines. Rummaging about, she drew out an alabaster jar of ointment and smeared it on Ivy’s face.
“Jubil!” Ivy sputtered as her aunt rubbed on the paste. “What are you doing?”
“This will take the powder and charcoal off your skin easily,” she said, taking the linen her niece held and wiping at her cheek. “’Tis a mixture of calendula and chamomile in lard base. I alsohave a mud and honey mask that will thoroughly cleanse your skin.”
“Let’s get this powder off and return home,” Peyton put her fingers into the cleansing cream. “Then we will submit to your mud and honey mask.”
The scrubbing and rubbing went on for the better part of an hour until both girls were fresh-scoured and bright as gold. Peyton brushed the leaves and dirt out of her hair before securing it at the nape of her neck with a pretty ribbon. Feeling infinitely cleaner and light of mood, she demanded her sister make haste and finish her toilette so that they could make it home by nightfall. Ivy stuck her tongue out at her sister as Jubil combed at a particularly nasty snarl in her blond hair.
Peyton laughed at her sister’s discomfort, taking the time to glance about the Cambridgeshire countryside and breathing in the freshness of summer. The scent of indigenous blossoms filled the air; wild jasmine, foxgloves and hemlock lined the road. Mustard was abundant as well as wild primroses. Yellow wild dill grew in great clusters and Peyton turned her eyes upward to the cotton-puff clouds that skirted across the blue sky. Aye, it had turned into a fine day.
“I could scarce believe when Lord Brian told us to return home,” she remarked to Ivy.
Ivy laughed, running her fingers through her newly-silken blond hair. “Did you see the expression on his face when I picked at my nose? I almost burst into hysterics.”
Peyton laughed again. “It was worth all of the embarrassment to see his reaction. We are fine actresses, darling.”
Ivy nodded in agreement and moved for her leggy horse. Jubil, meanwhile, was still fussing with her medicines.
“I must know if there will be any retribution,” Jubil was mumbling. “Lord Brian may see fit to punish us for our behavior. Or he might see to kill us all together and annex St. Cloven.”
“There will be no reparation, Jubil,” Peyton said calmly. “He shall simply forget about his appalling vassals.”
But Jubil busied herself with her medicaments while the party waited impatiently. “Did you see Alec? He has grown since the last I saw him.”
“Who is Alec?” Peyton asked.
“Why, Alec Summerlin, of course,” Jubil exclaimed, holding a vial aloft as she inspected the contents. “The Legend himself.”
Peyton and Ivy glanced at each other. “What are you talking about, Jubil?” Peyton asked with growing annoyance.
Jubil apparently found what she was looking for and set to stirring the mixture into a small pewter bowl. “King Edward labeled Alec Summerlin ‘The Legend’ because of his skill with a broadsword,” she said as she stirred. “He saw action in the Seventh Crusade with his father and Edward when he was still a prince. But he returned from Jerusalem prematurely and it is said he has not wielded a sword since, although I have not heard why. ’Twas said the man could cut an enemy in two with one clean stroke.”
“And just where did you hear that wild tale?” Peyton lifted an eyebrow.
“Out collecting,” Jubil informed her. “I have met up with villeins and squatters who’ve told tale of The Legend. He would have been the greatest warrior England had ever seen had he not surrendered his arms.”
Her aunt called it “collecting”; gathering ingredients for her witches brews and potions. Henbane, periwinkle, foxgloves and ground ivy for a variety of medicinal and clairvoyant needs. Thorn apples, nightshade, monkshood, white water lily and hemlock for magical purposes. Jubil also kept a garden in whichshe grew verrain, an herb, and ryegrass for the purpose of medicinal ergot, a fungus which grew on the grass.
Jubil glanced at her eldest niece as she prepared her potion. “He was standing ’fore you, Peyton. He is the one who pulled you out from underneath the wagon. Did you not see him?”
Peyton thought a moment, and then shrugged. “The sun was in my eyes, but I saw his legs…. I think. I saw legs as big around as my entire body.”
“That was him,” Jubil nodded confidently. “A big brute, he is.”
Peyton snorted. “Big, indeed. He must be a monster.”
“But did you look at his face, Peyton?” Jubil looked up from her implements insistently. “He is a beautiful man indeed. Beautiful!”
Peyton and Ivy looked at each other, smiling at Jubil’s declaration. Peyton leaned forward on the pommel of her saddle, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “My, my, Jubil. He warms your blood, does he not?”
Jubil snorted, shaking her faded blond head. “No man warms my blood or my body, little goats.”
Peyton and Ivy laughed heartily at Jubil’s expense, but their aunt ignored them as she finished merging her potion. Satisfied she had the proper parts and elements, the ladies watched with fading mirth as Jubil downed the contents in a pewter cup.
“There!” Jubil smacked her lips and put away her things. “By tonight we will know what the future holds.”
