Page 49 of May Queen: May Day

“She did. More wine please,” said Lang, looking back at Nash and holding out his goblet.

“I told you he wouldn’t like it,” mumbled Dayton, shoving a big hunk of brown bread into his mouth.

Ricard was ready to wring both of his brothers’ necks. “You two had direct orders from me to take a few villagers to the forest and cut down a bloody tree. How hard was that?”

“Well, our daft brother, Dayton, thought you were asking for a maple instead of a Maypole,” said Lang. “Lady Flora had to explain to him what you really wanted.” Lang took the decanter of wine from Nash and poured himself a drink.

“Me daft? Hah!” said Dayton, chewing while he spoke. “Our idiot brother, Lang, thought the Maypole was for whores to lean on by the tavern. Anyone with a brain in their head knows it’s for . . . it’s for . . .” Dayton swallowed and picked up his goblet and chugged some wine.

“It’s an ancient phallic pagan symbol of fertility,” said Nash. “Men and women dance around it as a fertility rite to bring about . . . well, reproduction.”

“Where in heaven’s name did you hear that?” asked Ricard.

“From that man named Mug,” Nash answered. “He seems to be very interested in pagan things. He was asking me if I ever saw a gold emblem depicting mistletoe and a sickle made into a necklace. I guess it’s something sacred to the Druids.”

“All right, now I’m ready to start swinging my fists,” said Ricard, getting to his feet. “Dayton and Lang, go back to the forest and get a blasted tree. I’m making a visit to the village later today and I want to see something that symbolizes a Maypole.”

“You still want us to get it even though it’s a pagan fertility symbol?” asked Dayton.

“See, I told you it was for whores,” said Lang, sucking down more wine.

“It’s not a fertility symbol and, yes, I want you to do as I asked,” said Ricard.

“All right. As soon as Lady Flora comes downstairs, we’ll take her and go,” said Dayton.

“Nay, she is not going anywhere near the forest,” commanded Ricard. “She will be with me today. If I have to chain her to my side to keep her from sneaking away, then I’ll do it.” He headed away with Nash following right behind him.

“Did you want me to go to the armory and get some shackles?” asked Nash.

“Nay, I want you to tell me what Flora was talking about with Mug.” He continued to walk.

“How would I know?” asked his squire. “I promised not to spy on her anymore.”

Ricard stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Nash, I’m already angry with you because you didn’t tell me Flora left with my brothers.”

“You were busy, and then I was busy, and then I figured it didn’t matter since she was in good hands.”

“She was with my brothers and, face it, they’re not hard to fool.”

“Neither are you, my lord. I mean, after all, you believed she was in her room. Right?”

“That doesn’t matter. I’ll make sure the handmaid is reprimanded for lying. I’m going to send her right back to Wiltshire. Now, tell me what Flora said to Mug. I know you were reading their lips even if you deny it.”

“Oh, all right,” he said, kicking at the ground and hanging his head. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me.”

“They were talking about . . . Druids.”

“What about them?” Ricard asked in a low voice, already feeling a knot forming in his stomach.

“Well, I don’t know for sure since Lady Flora’s back was to me and I could only read Mug’s lips. And it was dark in the stable and light by the door so I might have missed some of it.”

“Stop beating around the bush and tell me. Did you actually hear the mention the word Druids?”

“Aye, my lord, I did. Mug was talking about a missing sacred Druid necklace. It seemed to be pretty important.”

“So that’s why he’s here? Looking for it? Is that man a Druid?”