The Lily and the Lion by Catherine A. Wilson, Catherine T Wilson

‘So there is nothing wrong with you beside the fact that you weigh less than a sparrow.’
    â€˜I do not know. I mean, I do not think so.’
    He was watching me intently. ‘How old are you?’
    â€˜Lady d’Armagnac, my sister, tells me that we are nineteen summers.’
    â€˜I don’t suppose you ever thought to ask Mary St Pol yourself? No?’
    I shook my head.
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜I was not permitted to speak unless spoken to.’
    He huffed, as though he did not approve. ‘Smile.’ I stared at him, unable to decide exactly what he meant. ‘I want you to smile at me,’ he clarified. I raised the corners of my mouth. ‘Good Lord, that wasn’t much of an effort.’ I tried again, this time revealing my teeth. ‘They look fine to me, so, no excuses. From now on you will eat like a young woman and not an old crone.’
    I nodded as he passed me the crusty end of the loaf and I broke off a small piece before placing it into my mouth. The crunch was delightful and I relished the sensation. ‘Why do you blaspheme?’ I inquired cautiously.
    â€˜That is your first question to me? Why do I blaspheme?’ He burst into laughter, slapping his hand to his thigh. ‘God knows, my dear. God knows!’
    I am unsure what to make of this Lord Wexford, for I cannot tell if his mirth is at my expense or the ideals that I hold precious.
    Several days later, as I prepared to undertake my own form of vespers, I was surprised to hear the sound of Gillet’s voice. I ventured from my room to greet him but Anaïs informed me that both he and Lord Wexford had just left for the tavern. However, he had delivered your missive so I returned to read in peace.
    Dearest sister, I cried tears of sorrow for you. How could a man take such liberties? Is there no other way? As I prayed to the Lord to guide and protect you the image of Gillet appeared before me. Here was the answer. I would have to make him return to Paris without delay. I waited patiently to plead your case and beg his assistance but the hours passed and I finally took to my bed to rest, only to be woken some time later by the sounds of music and laughter floating up to my window from the boisterous gathering in the open square below.
    I quickly established the reason for such merriment, the beautifully adorned pole standing erect at the centre of the square, the maiden on horseback, the fires, music, wine and dancing. This was the Feast of Beltane, of which I had heard so much but never seen. As a member of the convent I was strictly forbidden to attend, relying instead on Anaïs to explain the ancient ritual to me, she having participated many times before.
    The celebrations were well under way with young maidens weaving their ribbons around the pole, their bodies swaying in time to the beat. A number of hand-fast couples were making the leap of fertility over the open flames of the balefire. As I watched, one man seemed to be somewhat reluctant to stand up for his turn, his persistent partner tugging on his sleeve. I could not help but smile at his third attempt to lift the large wine flagon from his shoulder to his mouth, whilst the maiden beside him struggled to wrestle it away. Having succeeded, she turned him around to make the jump. You can imagine my surprise, for when their faces were lit by the flames, I could clearly see that it was Anaïs, and her drunken partner was none other than Gillet!
    I quickly closed the shutters, confused by my reaction and the pounding of my heart and it was some time before I once again fell asleep.
    Much later I was woken by a persistent noise, like the hissing of a snake and candlelight now seeped under my closed door where earlier it had been almost dark. Rising from my bed, I ventured into the dining area only to discover Anaïs struggling with an intoxicated Gillet, taking most of his weight. I trembled to imagine how she had managed to get him up