Page 15 of Lord of Misrule

Chapter 4

The next day was Christmas Eve, and there was still so much to be done. The main meal was set to take place today right after Mass. The holiday celebrations were now in motion. Tolin walked swiftly toward the kitchen, his squire following close on his heels.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” asked Tolin, using his hand to block a yawn. “I told you that I wanted to get up early today.”

“I know, my lord, and I did wake you just like instructed.”

Tolin stopped in his tracks and turned to his squire, his hands on his hips. “This is early?”

“Mayhap not for most people who wake before the rise of the sun, my lord,” answered his squire. “But for you, Lord Tolin, yes, this is very early indeed.”

“I see I will need to be more direct with my instructions from now on.”

“My lord,” said Emeric, hurrying across the great hall to join them. “I’m afraid the head baker, Arvid became ill last night. It was very unexpected, indeed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Tolin kept walking. “Tell him I need to meet with him to give him instructions for everything I want regarding the Christmas feast. I’ve already spoken with the head cook, but need my bakery requests heard as well. We are short on time. I have a few changes I need to go over with him before I head to Mass.”

“But my lord, I’m afraid that is not possible.” Emeric was in charge of the household but acting odd today, looking twice as worried as usual. Tolin needed people he could count on in order to bring his festive plans to fruition. Somehow, Emeric didn’t seem like a good choice at the moment to make this happen.

Tolin needed to set things straight. “I am Lord of Blake Castle until the return of my father. Tell the head baker that I don’t care how ill he is, it is Christmas Eve and there is so much to be done. He can rest after Twelfth Night. I want to see him in the kitchen in ten minutes, and that is an order.” He turned to leave.

“I’m afraid Arvid is dead, my lord.”

Tolin stopped in his tracks, hoping he’d misheard the steward. He slowly turned to face the man.

“What did you say?” he asked, already feeling a sense of doom washing over him. All Tolin’s plans for the best sweet treats in England were riding on the expertise of the head baker. Today was Christmas Eve. This was of vital importance. His hall would be filled with people soon, all expecting a stupendous Christmas dinner along with exquisite desserts. He needed that head baker to finish off the meals with exciting sweets or this wasn’t going to go as planned.

“Arvid died in his bed as he slept, my lord,” continued Emeric. “The healer said it looks as if the man had a bad heart, but he can’t be sure.”

“This cannot be happening.” Just as he said it, two men walked by carrying a stretcher with a body atop it. The dead one’s face was covered. “Wait!” Tolin called out, hurrying over and pulling back the sheet to reveal the dead man’s identity. Sure enough, it was the head baker. He had truly died, and with the death Tolin’s aspirations of presenting the best and most elaborate baked goods for Christmastide died with him. Kit popped into his mind. She was a baker and good at it. But she came from town. She’d never worked with servants from the castle. Nay, he decided, she was here as part of a punishment. He couldn’t reward her after what her son was accused of doing.

“Did you want us to put down the stretcher?” asked one of the men carrying Arvid.

“Nay.” Tolin covered the dead man’s face back up. “Get him out of here anon. And go quickly. It is best that his death stays quiet for now. Or at least until I figure out what to do now that he is gone.”

“Shall we bury him, my lord?” asked the second man whom Tolin recognized as the gravedigger.

“Yes. The ground will be frozen, but use pickaxes and warm the earth first with fires. Just get this man buried and out of my sight.”

“Aye, my lord.” The men carrying the body left.

“Don’t you think that was a little cold-hearted?” came a woman’s voice from behind him. Tolin turned to see Kit and her son standing there watching him.

“Cold-hearted?” Tolin raised a brow. “The man is dead, my dear. I hardly think he’d take offense to anything I’ve said.”

“I’m sure the man has family. They’ll want to mourn his loss,” she continued. “They deserve a little compassion at a time like this.”

“Nay, he didn’t, so no, they don’t. Arvid had no one, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Tolin felt frustration sweep through him. This woman was not making his worries any less.

“Well, shouldn’t there at least be a ceremony for his burial?” Kit continued to press the issue. “I’m sure he had friends who will miss him.”

“It is Christmas Eve,” he told her. “His body will be buried, but any kind of actual funeral will have to wait until after Twelfth Night.”

“So, it seems the festivities are more important to you than a man’s life?”

Tolin was about to reprimand her for speaking this way to a noble when Emeric interrupted.

“Excuse me, my lord,” said Emeric. “But the servants in the kitchen will be needing instructions. Who will lead them regarding the baking for the Christmas feast?”