Part 11 (2/2)

”Something like that. Chocolate.”

As Krystyana came back, the other five girls were handing out bread rolls to the commons, without any helpers.

Seven pieces of chocolate were left. It was obvious that I couldn't share it with two hundred commoners and an equal number of children. There were five at the head table, plus six more who belonged there.

I broke each piece in two, got up, and started to put half a piece at each place.

The count stood up. ”It's some foreign delicacy,” he shouted. ”It's only this big.” He gesticulated. ”So there's only enough for the head table, plus some for the king and queen!” This also met with shouted approval. Had there been elections just then, I think Genghis Khan could have been voted in. So I went on, pa.s.sing them out, not missing myself. When I sat down, three pieces were left.

”What is this business about a king and queen, my lord?” He was tasting his chocolate and staring wide-eyed. ”Why, we are about to select one of each, for the holidays at least. A king and a queen of misrule. See those small loaves they're handing out-wheat for the men and rye for the women? Well, in one of each sort of loaves there is a bean, and the two who get the beans shall be our king and queen for the festival. Further, you and I and the good Sir Miesko and Father John and wife shall become commoners!” ”You mean that the king would have the right to Francine?” I asked. ”She's married. Still, he might try; try and get away with it, perhaps, until the holiday was over. Then I'd cut the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's b.a.l.l.s off! If I have no right to her, I'll be d.a.m.ned if any peasant can take her!”

”Uh. Yes. There are these three pieces left...”

”Well. One for the king and one for the queen. As to the last, well, rank hath its privileges.” He started to put it in his pouch, and then he stopped. He waved Natalia over. ”Give this to Pyotr Morocek's redheaded daughter.” As she darted away, he looked at me and said, ”It looks as though you are going to be robbing me of some of my ladies, Sir Conrad. I had better start restocking now!” It evolved that Mrs. Malinski got the woman's bean and became queen. The blacksmith became king and ordered us ”common swine” away from the head table. A side table had been prepared for us.

His first act was to order up his own six ”ladies-in-waiting,” namely, the six fattest women in the church. Mrs. Malinski demanded her right to some ”boys-in-waiting,” and called up three septuagenarians, who snuggled up to her. All this was greeted with great ribaldry from the crowd.

The king demanded that the count show more respect for blacksmiths and should henceforth act like one.

A leather ap.r.o.n was brought forth, and a hammer; Lambert put them on and went through a parody that I would have appreciated more had I known the blacksmith better.

Sir Miesko was charged with abandoning his wife, and another was named in her place. This huge matron was given a feather pillow, and he permitted her to beat him around the room, to the commons' delight. A great deal of beer was circulating.

My turn came up. The ”king” said that since I was so adept at saving babies, I must be one of their breed. This had to be a setup, because all too soon three large women I had never met ran forward and pinned a huge diaper over my embroidered tunic and hose. I'd thought that the safety pin was a modem invention.

I was then forcibly presented with six large b.r.e.a.s.t.s to suck on, four of which were lactating. I survived. A television situation comedy would have contained higher, and considerably less coa.r.s.e, humor.

Francine was then summoned. The ”king” claimed that she had shown her wonders to but a few and that this was unfair. He commanded her to strip naked and walk among the crowd to show them what beauty was.

I tensed myself for a fight. I was quite willing to put up with the buffoonery with regard to the count, Sir Miesko, and myself. I would not permit them to humiliate a priest's wife, even though the whole concept of a priest having a wife confused me.

I never had a chance to draw my sword.

Francine stood up from her seat at the side and pulled herself out of her garments. The crowd cheered. I was awestruck. She strutted and wiggled her way up and down the tables of the commons, pinching a chin here, kissing a hairy peasant's lips there. The cheering rose to deafening levels, and she gloried in it! At last, she came to our side table. She gave Sir Miesko a peck on the cheek, which he accepted. The count demanded more and stroked her from armpit to knee.

At my turn, I wanted much more. I sat her on my knee and kissed her. She wiggled her body close.

”But this is all for the Church,” she said with mock innocence. ”One must mingle with the barbarians and follow their customs.”

I didn't know if I wanted to beat her or rape her, so I handed her down to her husband. She stayed there the rest of the night, eventually permitting a cloak to be draped around her shoulders.

The situation struck me as being more than slightly sick.

The priest and our six ladies were notably exempted from the hazing, as the king and queen turned on the commoners. All the musicians were playing in the hopes that they wouldn't be called out.

The various performances that the king and queen required of the commons were, if anything, even more crude than those required of the n.o.bles. Most of them involved incomprehensible in- jokes that soon became boring. Boring to me, at least. Everyone else was having a marvelous time.

Eventually our royalty of misrule ran out of ideas and called for the dancing to start. Tables were moved out, chairs were moved back, and two barrels of beer were rolled in. The tops were removed from the barrels, and the beer was just dipped out.

Lambert, Sir Miesko, and I were required to join in the first dance. I was unsure of just what steps to try, but Krystyana dragged me out on the floor. I'm not convinced that you could call it dancing. Okoitz had never heard of a polka or a mazurka, let alone a waltz, but people contented themselves with enthusiastically jumping up and down. They were not quite as bad as the modem punkers, but they came close.

That ordeal completed, I found myself standing at the sidelines next to the count. He tapped my shoulder and motioned for me to follow. He went to his chambers. A look of relief crossed his face as he closed the door. ”I'm glad that we only have to do this once a year I Custom requires that I put on a party and play the clown, but I have as little liking for it as you do.” ”It was a bit ...

raucous, my lord.”

”Yes. I hope that you haven't gotten a bad opinion of us. Had you seen these people during harvest, your impression would have been different. We'll have to put in an appearance later, but for now, do you play chess? Oh, and do take off that stupid diaper.”

I'm not a great player, but I'm competent. The game he played was identical to modem chess, except the p.a.w.ns couldn't capture en pa.s.sant. The count's game was good but extremely conservative; the strategy of play had evolved vastly in seven hundred years. That evening I won four games out of four. ”Sir Conrad, that brown cake you served-is there any more about?” ”I'm afraid not, nor is there any way of making more. I was surprised at that cake of yours.”

”Good, yes?”

”Oh, yes. Delicious. But when all of that food and drink was flowing so generously, you were somewhat sparing with it.”

”Of course. It had honey in it. I could have sold that honey for more than what the rest of the feast cost.”

”Honey is that rare here? I'm surprised. It should be a natural product, easy to get.”

”Easy enough to get, Sir Conrad, once you find a honey tree. A full-time honey hunter finds one, maybe two trees a year.”

”Remarkable. What do you do then?”

”Why, you smoke the bees out and chop open the tree, of course.” ”I begin to see your problem.

You know, my lord, bees can't hollow out a tree themselves. They have to find a suitable place to build a hive. If you chop up every hollow tree, there isn't any place for them to live. No wonder honey is rare.”

”I see. You're suggesting that we hollow out trees?” ”It doesn't have to be a whole tree. A simple wooden box will do. You know, bees are very remarkable creatures. I've read a few articles on them. Did you know that they have a language?”

”What! Insects talking?”

”Not exactly talking, but when a bee finds a field of flowers, she goes back to her hive and does a dance that tells the others where to go.” ”Remarkable! You say 'she.' What of the male bees?” So I prattled on for an hour about bees. Friends have accused me of having a garbage pit mind. Things fall in there and sort of stay around, fermenting. The upshot was that I agreed to instruct Lambert's carpenter on making beehives, a gross of them.

There would be nothing much to it, of course. Just a simple rectangular wooden box of about forty liters' capacity would do. You drilled a hole of four square centimeters near the bottom, facing south, and mounted them on a pole at least three meters in the air.

”It's been a pleasant and educational evening, Sir Conrad. Doubly so since you wouldn't wager any money on your chess playing. But now we must rejoin the buffoonery below.”

The end point of the evening was the gift giving. Gift wrapping was unknown, but it wasn't missed. The only awkward moment occurred when the priest and his wife gave me a wooden crucifix and a carved rosary-the priest's own work-and I hadn't realized that they were on my Christmas list. The best return gift that I could think of on short notice was some rose seeds.

I also got a new sword belt from Sir Miesko. The harem didn't give; they just got. Well, maybe they did give. That night I was visited by Yawalda and Mary. They liked to work as a team.

Chapter Twelve

It was a relaxed afternoon.

I was giving Lambert and Sir Miesko fencing lessons. Over their strenuous objections and at my firm insistence, we were using wooden sticks instead of real swords. Boris Novacek soon joined us, praising my previous battles. For men who lived by the sword, they had some odd att.i.tudes. It was as if they didn't believe that a sword had a point! Their fencing was strictly hack and chop. They didn't see where the lunge had any use at all. Finally, Boris said, ”My lords, I have seen him use this thing! I saw him put that little sword entirely through a man's neck, and he killed the German knight with a single blow through the eye slit of his helmet.” ”Well, I haven't seen him kill anything, Novacek,” the count said. ”Let's do some killing and prove this thing properly. Bring your sword, Sir Conrad.” I followed Lambert apprehensively out of the building, along with the rest of the crowd. He led us to a pen containing six pigs destined to be the next day's supper.

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