Twelve Days of Christmas (39 page)
Then Jude walked back to the middle of the circle while Nancy, who was standing nearby, giggled. ‘He used to give that to me, not having a lady of his own!’
‘
I am St George
,’ boomed Jude, ‘
a bold and brave knight. In Egypt with a dragon, I did fight
.’
‘Why Egypt?’ I whispered to Becca.
‘The Crusades made some of the elements change: other places have Saint George kill a Turkish knight, but we carried on with the Dragon – and here it comes.’
From somewhere inside the great, leathery beast a voice that was unmistakably young Ben’s from Weasel Pot shouted, after a couple of opening roars:
‘
I am the Dragon
With a roar I’ll slay
And yon bold knight
With his life will pay!’
Then he and Jude rushed at each other and a mock fight ensued – only for the Dragon to kill Saint George. The crowd gave a united groan.
‘That shouldn’t happen, should it?’ I asked Becca worriedly, looking at Jude stretched out on the grass.
‘It’s all right,’ whispered Jess, who had edged up beside me. ‘Wait and see!’
Auld Man Christmas, Red Hoss and the Man-Woman, whose roles had so far consisted of working the crowds and scaring small children into fits, now turned inwards to face the tragic scene and said as one:
‘
Alas, poor Saint George!’
The Dragon moved into the middle of the circle, leaving poor Jude lying on the cold half-thawed turf, though fairly near the bonfire, so I hoped he wouldn’t entirely freeze to death.
Richard struck up another air on the fiddle and the six Rappers began to dance again, this time their swords weaving together, to form a series of intricate patterns that culminated in a sort of knot with a hole in its centre. The Dragon approached – and then suddenly they lowered the knot of swords over its head, tightened it with a scraping clash of metal – and the Dragon’s head flew off, to land with a soggy thump near my feet.
I nearly had a heart attack and it was a huge relief when I realised it was hollow!
The dancers fell back into two rows again, revealing the headless Dragon lying on the ground, and there was a round of applause and some cheers.
Richard swung round on his heel and pointed his violin at the lifeless Saint George, declaiming loudly:
‘
I am the Doctor
Be not affright
With my trusty potion
I’ll put all right!’
Then he took a small bottle out of his pocket and pretended to sprinkle something over the recumbent knight. I watched, riveted, as Jude slowly stirred, sat up and then got to his feet and bowed, to more rapturous applause.
‘That’s it – come on!’ Becca said, and she and Jess and everyone else rushed into the circle and joined hands, dragging me with them. Somehow in the crush I found myself with Jude on my left and the Dragon, without his head but with his tail looped over his arm, on my right, as we all joined hands and danced round. I could see Michael, Jess and Becca among the circle of dancers – and George, holding Oriel’s hand. She looked flushed and happy, her ivy and mistletoe circlet tipped over one eye.
No-one else seemed to have a gilded one . . . and it was just as well that Jude had pushed it down firmly onto my head, because he suddenly whirled me round and round until I was too breathless to go on.
‘It’s no use, I’ll have to have a rest!’ I begged, panting, and he laughed and walked with me over to the pub, his arm still around my waist, though he took his rather scary helmet off first: that was a bit of a relief. We stood talking to Noël, Tilda and Old Nan and I accepted a beaker of the warming punch . . . and then possibly another. In fact, I lost count of how much I’d had, but it tasted innocuously of warm apples and Nancy
had
said you could give it to a baby . . .
My foot started to tap in time to the music and Jude’s arm tightened around me a little as Nancy took the beaker from my hand and replaced it with a fresh one.
‘Nancy,’ I said suspiciously, focusing on her cheerful, flushed face with an effort, ‘when you said you could give this to a baby, were you serious?’
‘Yes, if you wanted it to go to sleep for a couple of hours. Maybe not, these days though, when they’ve even taken the alcohol out of gripewater.’
Richard played the music for what looked like a final mad bout of strip-the-willow, then handed his fiddle on to someone else and joined us.
Michael, who’d followed him, said, ‘It’s been really fascinating to watch. It’s such an interesting mixture of pagan fertility ceremony and miracle play.’
‘That’s very astute of you,’ said Richard. ‘The red ribbons, holly, ivy and especially the mistletoe wreaths the women are given
are
all to do with rebirth and fertility.’
‘And the triumph of good over evil, that’s what the Saint George and the dragon part signifies,’ Noël put in.
‘Doesn’t the pagan element bother you, Vicar?’ Michael asked.
‘Oh no,’ he said cheerfully, his white hair blowing in the breeze.
It was certainly now starting to unsettle
me
, despite the soothing effects of large quantities of punch!
We waved Michael off, and then the actors in the Revels went to the barn to remove their costumes, reappearing in normal guise. By then, the last of the wassail and the Revel Cakes had been consumed and people started to disperse: some home, and some into the Auld Christmas. Edwina dragooned Tilda, Jess and Noël into the car and drove them back to the lodge, but Becca walked off home, a Revel Cake wrapped in a paper napkin in her pocket for later.
‘They’re supposed to be a lucky talisman if you keep it for the year,’ she’d told me, ‘but I think I’d rather eat it.’ Then she’d looked at me and added, ‘And perhaps you’d better eat something as soon as Jude gets you home, too: that wassail packs a lot more punch than you think.’
‘That’s because it
is
punch,’ I said, and giggled.
‘I’ll look after her,’ Jude promised, putting his arm around me again, probably because I was swaying slightly.
‘Yes,
that’s
what’s worrying me,’ Becca said grimly, and he laughed.
Driving back with Jude I felt warm and cosy, but also strangely limp and boneless too.
‘That was lovely,’ I said dreamily.
Then the phone in my pocket rang, waking me slightly. ‘Can you stop here? Only I’ll lose the signal if you go past the lodge and it must be Laura.’
‘Or Sam?’ he snapped suspiciously, pulling in to the side of the lane.
‘Why on earth would it be Sam?’ I blinked at him, trying to focus. ‘He doesn’t even have my number.’ I’d managed to dig out the phone by now and said, ‘Hello?’
‘Holly, are you there?’ demanded a strident voice.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ I sighed. ‘Yes, I’m here, Ellen . . . but I’m not
entirely
with it.’
‘Why, you’re not ill, are you? Did Laura tell you about the London job? Only it’s next week and I have to know now if you’ll do it. You will, won’t you?’
‘Next week?’ I murmured, drifting back off into a warm and sleepy haze.
Jude removed the phone from my limp grasp and demanded rudely, ‘What do you want?’
I could hear Ellen quacking loudly.
‘No,’ he growled, ‘she
can’t
go and cook anywhere – she’s staying here.’ And he clicked the phone off, shoved it back into my pocket, and started the engine again.
‘That was a bit cavalier,’ I protested, reviving slightly, ‘and I’m
not
staying.’
‘You can phone her back tomorrow if you want to, when you’re fit to make decisions.’
Back at the house we went straight through to the kitchen, where Merlin was delighted to see us. Under the bright lights, Jude took me by the shoulders and stared worriedly down at me.
‘I think I should sober you up with coffee, you’re not used to our wassail. Or maybe you should just go to bed?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what Laura said we should do,’ I agreed dreamily.
‘I’m getting to like the sound of this friend of yours more and more.’ The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.
‘Are you? She’s prettier than I am – small and blonde.’
‘She might be pretty, but you’re
beautiful
– and you’re just the right height.’
‘Only to a giant.’
‘Lucky you’ve got one to hand then, isn’t it?’
‘And I don’t need sobering, because I’m not drunk,’ I told him. ‘I just feel . . . good. Relaxed.’ In fact, I relaxed right there and then against his broad chest and he sighed deeply and put his arms around me, leaning his cheek against my hair.
‘That’s nice,’ I said, snuggling in a bit closer. ‘Jude, when you keep saying you don’t want me to go . . . are we talking permanent employment here? Or a quick fling? Only I don’t—’
He gave me a slight shake and my mouth snapped shut. ‘I’m talking marriage, you idiot! You, me – and children, too, if we’re lucky. Which we
should
be after tonight.’ The corner of his mouth quirked up with amusement. ‘Saint George’s wreath never fails – ask Nancy! She’s had three of them, nine months to the day after a Revels.’
This dispelled the clouds of wassail slightly and I indignantly tried to push him away. ‘You mean you and
Nancy
—’
‘No, you idiot, Nancy and her
husband
.’
‘Oh.’ I relaxed against him again and he wrapped his arms closely around me. ‘Did you mean that, about getting married?’
‘Old Nan had another word with me about that Afghan she’s knitting for us tonight – but anyway, I’m a marrying man and I fell in love with you the minute I set eyes on you. Only I didn’t want to admit it, especially when I thought you were up to no good!’
‘Well, I wasn’t.’
‘I know now, but I loved you anyway, though it might have made me a bit bad-tempered.’
‘Just a bit – but perhaps trying to pretend to myself that I wasn’t falling in love with you made
me
a little grumpy, too! But if we married, we’d fight all the time, wouldn’t we?’
‘Yes, I’m looking forward to it.’
‘I haven’t said yes, yet,’ I pointed out. ‘But I might, if only because I can’t bear to be parted from Lady and Merlin.’
‘You’d better,’ he muttered, kissing me, and it quickly became clear that our last scorching kiss had been little more than a preliminary warm-up.
But when I came up for air, I tried to release myself. ‘I’d better put the dinner in the oven, Jude: it’s all ready, apart from cooking the rice and—’
‘Forget it, you’re not putting anything in the oven tonight,’ he said, not letting go of me. ‘But
I
might, if you tempt me too much.’
‘That was
very
rude!’ I told him seriously and he grinned.
‘I only really want you for your cooking – and your lovely, poseable body,’ he said, running his hands over it appreciatively. Then he kissed me again and I completely lost any interest in anything else, even food.
* * *
Later – much later, cosily snuggled up against him in his four-poster bed, I said severely, ‘I can’t think what I’m doing here! Falling for you was definitely
not
in my life-plan.’
‘Then plan me into your schedule and write yourself a recipe with me as the main course,’ he suggested.
‘Just don’t think I’ll always play a meek Viola to your Orsino!’ I warned him.
‘You never did do that. But okay – I think our play is done.’
‘Or maybe only the first act?’ I said seriously. ‘I’m starting to see a pattern here, with the end of one thing becoming the beginning of the next, just like Richard was saying earlier . . . Do you think that’s mad?’
‘No, but it might be the aftereffects of the wassail.’
He pulled me back into a crushing embrace and asked, hopefully, ‘Time for a bit more Revelling?’
Recipes
Wassail
A very old punch of ale, apples and spices. It was popular throughout Christmas, especially on Twelfth Night. This will make about six small glasses: increase quantities as desired.
Ingredients:
1 pint of ale (500ml)
1/3 pint of apple juice
Juice and zest of an unwaxed lemon
1 tablespoon honey
¼ teaspoon each of ground ginger, nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon
Method:
Simmer the lemon juice and zest, apple juice and spices gently in a pan for about ten minutes, without letting it boil.
Add the ale and honey, stirring to dissolve, and heat through: again, be careful not to let it boil.
This is drunk warm and you can add a lemon slice to each glass/cup.
Ginger and Spice Christmas Tree Biscuits
These make a thin biscuit that will retain its crispness for quite a while on the tree; though if you make a double batch, you can keep some to nibble at in the biscuit tin, too!
Ingredients:
4oz (100g) butter
8oz (225g) plain flour
6oz (175g) soft brown sugar
1 small egg, beaten
1 level teaspoon of ground ginger
½ level teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cloves (optional)
Method:
Sieve the flour and spices into a bowl and then add the butter, chopped into bits. Rub it into the flour between your thumb and fingers (as you do with shortcrust pastry).
When you have a mix like fine breadcrumbs, add the sugar and most of the egg, then knead lightly into a firm dough. Add the rest of the egg if necessary.
Put the dough in a bowl, cover with cling film and place in the fridge for at least half an hour. (This makes it easier to roll out and cut.)
Heat the oven to 190ºC, 375ºF, gas mark 5. Grease a couple of baking trays.
Roll the dough out fairly thinly on a lightly floured board, then cut out shapes as desired: you can get Christmas cutters, but gingerbread men also look good on the tree. If you just want round biscuits, then roll the dough into a long cylinder shape and slice thinly.
Pierce each biscuit so it can be hung from a thread or ribbon (I use a chopstick), then place on the baking tray, well spaced. Bake for about ten minutes, until light golden brown at the edges – but keep an eye on them!
Remove and place on wire racks to cool.
I ice mine by mixing a little icing sugar and water with natural food colouring in egg cups (add water in drips, it needs to be quite thick) and then I use a small nylon paintbrush I keep just for this purpose (wash new ones before use) to blob, trickle and write on the biscuits. This is the fun bit . . . Allow to go hard.
Revel Cakes
Despite the name, these are actually a lightly fruited and spiced little bread roll. Holly soaked saffron in some of the water overnight to give them a yellow colour, though this is not vital. (But if you do, you will need to warm the water again next day before using.) She also added some chopped mixed peel to the dough.
Ingredients (for about twelve small buns – it can be doubled for a larger quantity):
13oz (375g) strong white flour
1 teaspoon caster sugar
7½ fl oz warm water (soak a couple of good pinches of saffron in 5 fl oz of it overnight if using)
1 teaspoon salt
¾ oz butter
½ teaspoon mixed spice
¾ sachet of fast dried yeast
3 oz (75g) chopped mixed peel
Method:
In a bowl or jug, mix the sugar, 2½ fl oz warm water and the yeast and allow to stand for five minutes or until frothy.
Sift the flour and salt into a large mixing bowl together with the spice. Rub in the butter, then make a well in the middle of the flour and pour in the yeast mixture and most of the rest of the warm water. Mix to a dough, using more water if needed.
Knead for ten minutes, then put the dough in a large oiled bowl, cover with cling film, and leave somewhere warm for approximately two hours, until it has at least doubled in size.
Put on a floured board and give it a quick thump or two to let out trapped air, then knead for two or three minutes. If using chopped peel, at this stage stretch the dough gently into a thick square and sprinkle the fruit into the middle. Fold the dough in over it, then knead as before for a couple of minutes.
Put it back in the bowl for ten minutes. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 220ºC, 425ºF, gas mark 7. Grease baking trays or muffin tins.
On a floured surface, roll the dough into cylinders about six inches long and wind them round in spirals to make buns the way Holly did, then bake in muffin tins. Alternatively, form into small balls for ordinary rolls and place on a baking tray.
Cover trays with a tea towel and put in a warm place for half an hour, or until they have doubled in size. Bake for about fifteen minutes. When cooked they will be pale golden brown, feel lighter and sound slightly hollow when tapped underneath.
Transfer to a wire rack to cool.
