Page 23 of May Queen: May Day

Chapter 7

After posting the wedding banns on the door to the church, the alehouse, the castle gates, and several neighboring inns, Ricard and Flora rode through the village side by side.

“Good day, my lord and lady.” One after another, the villagers bowed and curtsied. They stopped plowing the fields and doing their chores to run over to greet them.

One woman with a baby in her arms and four children clinging to her skirts, whispered something to her husband.

Her husband looked nervous, but stepped forward and walked alongside the horses as they rode. “My lord, if you don’t mind, my wife wanted me to ask you a question.”

“Go ahead,” said Ricard, not looking at the man, but staring at the road.

“My wife wants to know if you’ll be needing some of the village men to find a nice birch tree to cut down since it is almost the first of May.”

“Cut down a tree?” asked Ricard. “Whatever for?”

“For the Maypole,” said the woman, rushing after them with her dirty children following after her. The little ones were dressed in naught more than rags, trudging along with bare feet.

“Maypole? That’s a pagan tradition and I won’t allow it.”

“But your mother used to always make sure there was a Maypole constructed in the village,” said the woman. “It is so much fun for the children to dance around it. They look forward to it all year long.”

“Nay,” he answered, still looking forward.

Flora didn’t like the way Ricard was acting. She could see the look of disappointment on the woman’s face. Her children were dirty, gaunt, and sad.

“Lord Ricard, perhaps it would be a nice gesture for the children,” suggested Flora.

Ricard’s head turned and he scowled at her. “It’s a pagan tradition,” he told her. “I said nay.”

“It’s only a celebration of spring and something fun for the villagers to do,” she replied in a low voice as they continued to ride. “They work hard for you. Just look at the poor children. They are so skinny, and dirty and seem sad. These are your people, Ricard. You don’t want them to think you are an ogre or that you don’t care about them, do you?”

Ricard looked downat the children, realizing that what Flora said was true. However, he also knew that Flora was trying to control his decision. She used his weakness of caring what others thought of him to her advantage to get what she wanted. He was about to say no again, when he realized he could use this to his advantage, as well.

He wanted Flora to like him. She would be his wife soon, and he wanted a good, sound marriage. If he agreed to this foolish notion, would it really be so horrible? After all, it would make the villagers respect him, too. He was the new lord of this castle and hadn’t yet been here a year. He didn’t know the people well and neither did they know him. This would be a good chance for him to shine.

If he put Flora in charge of this celebration, it would use up her time and also take her interest away from trying to sneak away and meet up with pagans in the forest. He supposed it could be a good thing after all.

“All right, we will construct a Maypole in the village for the children,” he said.

“Oh, thank you, my lord,” the woman cried. “My children will be so happy.”

“My betrothed, Lady Flora, will be in charge of the festivities.”

“I will?” asked Flora in surprise.

“Aye. As my wife-to-be, that is one of your duties.”

She was silent for a moment and he thought she was about to object. But then she smiled and nodded.

“I will handle everything, my lord. You need not worry about it.”

“Excellent.” In one sense, Ricard felt satisfied, but another part of him worried more than ever. Lady Flora was a mysterious woman and she was also extremely defiant. He wasn’t sure what to expect out of her. Hopefully, he hadn’t made the wrong decision in saying she was in charge of the May Day celebration.

As he rode away, all he could see in his mind’s eye was a bonfire with flames shooting up to the heavens. All the village children chanted and danced around a burning Maypole, laughing as his demesne caught on fire and burned to the ground.

Egads, what had he done? He had a feeling his nightmares were far from over.

* * *