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A cheer arose, and then someone shouted, “All hail, the Lord of Misrule!”

Bench legs scraped along the floor as the guests all rose and bowed to Rheged.

One of the servants handed Rheged the wooden circlet, and with a look of pure delight, the gentleman set it upon his head. It wobbled and then slid sideways, obviously a few sizes too small. Rheged caught it in his hand and grinned.

“My first command of the evening is that Ealdorman Ormod shall wear this crown on my behalf. I am not abdicating any of my power to him, mind you, simply the care of my headpiece.” With obvious forbearance, the older gentleman accepted the circlet and placed it upon his head. It fit perfectly. Those in the room cheered their approval, and Rheged beamed. “And now, I believe it is time that the mummers paraded around the room like a flock of chickens.”

The guests roared their approval, and the mummers gathered themselves together, tucked their hands in their armpits, and began flapping and clucking like a disoriented cluster of hens. Aisley began to laugh. She could not help herself. The mummers’ various animal masks only added to the ridiculousness of their antics.

Rheged resumed his seat, watching with amusement until the mummers’ arm flapping began to slow.

“Enough, mummers,” he called. “You have been worthy chickens, but it is time for you to go to roost.” To the sound of much laughter, the actors retired to the corner of the great hall and sat upon the floor to rest. Rheged surveyed the guests, and a hushed anticipation descended over the room. “I believe a role reversal is in order,” he said. “One who has never been—nor ever will be—a thegn shall experience it this night.” He looked directly at Aisley, and her breath caught in her throat.

“No,” she whispered. “Please, no.”

“Aisley, sister of Ealdorman Wulfhere,” he called. “Come take your place at the head table. There is room enough here between me and Ealdorman Brecc.”

The guests seated around her cheered and clapped their approval. Wulfhere appeared stunned. Brecc was glaring at Rheged as though he wished the man would choke on his words.

“Go, Aisley!” Diera poked her ribs. “People are waiting.”

Attempting to stay the trembling threatening to consume her, Aisley stumbled to her feet. More cheers sounded. She did not look at her mother. There would be no reassurance found in her countenance. Instead, Aisley set her gaze on Brecc. He had turned from glaring at Rheged to watch her slow approach. His eyes shone with apology. She recognized his helplessness and simultaneously realized that only she had the power to make this situation tenable. Lifting her chin a fraction, she approached the head table.

Bobbing a brief curtsy to the king and queen, she moved to stand before Rheged. “I have obeyed your call to become a thegn, oh Lord of Misrule,” she said loudly enough for those sitting nearby to hear, and then she offered a manly bow.

“Arise, Ealdorman Aisley,” Rheged cried, “and join your fellow thegns on the bench.”

Behind her, applause rang out. Unwilling to turn to acknowledge the crowd, Aisley made her way around the head table to reach the spot Rheged had created for her. Brecc rose and offered her his hand. She took it, clinging to the anchor it represented as she slid onto the seat. Moments later, he was seated beside her, his fingers still wrapped around hers beneath the table.

Rheged tilted his head toward them and spoke quietly. “You may both thank me at a later date.”

“Or I may mortally wound you for putting Aisley through that,” Brecc replied through gritted teeth.

“A perfect opportunity for you to sit together for the remainder of the evening, with no one in any position to question it,” Rheged said, his eyes sparkling with good humor. “It was too good to ignore.” He glanced at Brecc and grinned. “And fully worth the risk of a blade at my neck tonight.” He turned to face the room again. “And now, my friends, it is long past time for some music. Ealdorman Gimm, I have heard it said that you have a remarkable voice. I would have you sing us a song.”

The portly gentleman seated next to Wulfhere rose on unsteady feet. “A song, you say, sire?”

“Aye.” Rheged waved his arm expansively. “Entertain us.”

Aisley felt the guests’ attention shift from her to Ealdorman Gimm and allowed herself a small portion of relief.

“I pray you will find it in your heart to forgive him.” Brecc spoke softly, his eyes facing those in the room.

Following his lead, Aisley kept her gaze forward and her voice low. “I will if you will.”

“Ah, you desire a united front.” His tone was thoughtful. “I am beginning to think that tactic might be our best course with more than one person.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it to reach for his goblet. “It appears that Ealdorman Gimm’s singing is an insufficient draw to capture your mother’s attention.”

Aisley forced herself to look to the table she’d left. Diera was watching the portly thegn, wincing at every untuneful note he bellowed. Her mother, however, was eyeing Brecc with a decidedly calculating expression. “What is she thinking?”

“I cannot tell, but I am most anxious that it not cause you difficulties.”

The reason he had released her hand became clear. Whether or not her mother could see the placement of their hands beneath the table, Brecc wished to offer her no possible fuel for speculation. It was a wise decision, and Aisley could not fault it. Indeed, she should be grateful for his precaution. In her current discomforting position, however, it felt horribly as if she had been set adrift in a sea of overly interested onlookers.

She took an unsteady breath, and Brecc shifted slightly on the bench. Moments later, she felt his leg press against hers. Fresh awareness of his physical proximity—as comforting as it was disquieting—flooded through her in a warm rush.

“A united front, remember.” His voice was gentle, reassuring. “By morning, most people in this room will scarcely recall your name, and your family members know full well that you were forced to play along with the annual Twelfth Night madness.”

“True.” He was right. After all, she was not the only one to have been targeted by the Lord of Misrule. “I am grateful that I was not asked to parade the room as a chicken or sing a ballad off-key.”