The merrymaking resumed.
‘They’re setting up for the bowman’s ram,’ Nolly said. ‘And it’s our Watkyn Sharpeye standing agin who may come.’
Jared brightened. An archery contest! An ordinary shot himself, to behold a natural marksman like Watkyn, a veteran of the crusades and pitted against all comers would be entertainment indeed.
He made his way to the gathering crowd – and then saw Aldith and Frauncey together, admiring the ram for prize.
Bitterly he turned on his heel.
How long would it be before she could have no effect on him?
Will Dunning, the miller’s eldest, thrust across his path and rubbed his manhood suggestively.
Jared saw red and in a single mighty heave hoisted the youth over his shoulder and to roars of appreciation catapulted him into the pond.
‘Let the ale do the talking, you jug-bitten simkin, and count on this!’ he yelled at the floundering figure.
Then someone leapt on his back, sending him staggering, but with hard muscles won at the forge and anvil he bent and hefted him forward to join Dunning.
It was the signal for general mayhem. With shouts of glee more joined in, and set upon by at least four Jared was overcome and found himself in the pond as well.
Soaked and muddy he staggered out.
There was nothing for it but to trudge back to the house to strip off his fine clothes, now ruined.
Hauling on his workaday attire he decided to return to the green and find Nolly. There was none to impress now, and he might as well join his friend for a jug or three.
Nolly was over by a booth convulsed in mirth at a drunken juggler desperately trying to succeed with three live rats.
Jared found himself an ale and tried to throw off his melancholy. Another tankard went down quickly.
Feeling suddenly weary, he found a bench and sat, staring at his drink, his thoughts a jumble.
‘Why, Jared! What happened to your lovely red jacket?’
As if from a dream he looked up to see Aldith standing over him with a beautiful smile.
Scrambling to his feet he stuttered, ‘Oh, er, it got, um, wet. Where’s Frauncey?’
‘Oh, he’s to attend on the bailiff as he speaks with the bishop. Jared, why don’t we walk together for a while? It’s been so long since we talked.’
Head swimming he strove to grapple with what was happening. One thought burst into his consciousness above all others. This was Aldith and he had her to himself for a short time and … and if he didn’t lay his heart before her right now he …
They walked slowly along.
‘Aldith – I … I …’
‘I always enjoy May Day, don’t you? So wonderful and joyful, and to see everyone frolic so lifts the heart.’
‘I have to talk to you!’
‘You are, Jared.’
‘I mean …’
They reached the edge of the green but Aldith was directing them across the bridge and on to the common.
‘You’re promised to Frauncey, I know that, but—’
She stopped suddenly and swung him to face her. ‘I am not promised to that … that drab.’
‘But … but …’
‘I will never marry that fool even if it means I shall remain a maid all my life. If the one who I desire so sweetly hasn’t the courage to make conquest of me …’
He gulped in sudden realisation. Hesitantly he put out his hand – she took it and purposefully stepped off once more, leading them across the common towards the woods.
Heart bumping, her hand in his all fire and flowers, he was quite unable to take in what seemed to be developing. ‘Wh-where are we going?’ he whispered.
‘It’s May Day, my fauntkin! Where do you think lovers go on this day?’
Nearly overcome with a river of joy, he fell in with her step as they scampered off into the woods.