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CHAPTER ONE:

Whitsunday

Someone threw a stone or a spoiled fruit at the man perched atop thehis cap fro ruesture of frustration, and continued tying the sashes to the rings crowning the maypole One by one, the colorful sashes tumbled down

"He al

Lia could not help grinning "Every year someone tries to knock him down Every year What would happen if they did? He would probably break his neck and then there would be no dancing"

"Maybe that is why the boys do it"

"Not all of the What color sash do you want, Sowe?"

"It does notto ask me to dance" Her shoulders drooped Dark hair veiled part of her face

"Only if you hide up here in the loft If you go to the maypole, someone will dance with you I know it"

"I do not think so"

"Thinking that will surely ed and looked back out theto the h Street "What color do you think I should choose?"

"Blue," Lia said "It matches your eyes as well as our dresses" She also looked back The rounds It was a tradition of sorts, these ether, to watch it hoisted up and festooned with decorations But this year was different They were both old enough to dance around the iddiness and jittery nerves Both Duerden and Colvin would ask her to dance, so she did not have Sowe’s fear of being a girl lacking a partner But she did not want to e so hands As she i of sadness struck her The ht them the maypole dance was dead and it was her fault Even the s?" Sowe asked, seeing the expression on Lia’s face, and studied her with concern

"Just reht us the dance"

Sowe’s s

Pasqua’s voice bellowed fro ofthe , the pole will still be there when your chores are finished Do you set the sugarplums, the tourtelettes, the sambocade And I need you to carry out the Gooseberry fool before you change If you spill and ret it Get down here, girls If I have to co a switch I will Or a brooh their tears, for they both knew that Pasqua was totally incapable of clied each other fiercely a , then brushed their eyes and hurried down,for battle Every open space on the tables was crahts that only eed the week of Whitsunday Lia snitched a tiny Royal cake and stuffed it into her le

Pasqua’s sleeves were rolled up and she was everywhere at once, stirring pots, poking loaves in the ovens, cracking eggs, and ladling honey Lia balanced the trays on barrels and chests, while Sowe scrubbed pots clean so that other dishes could be started

"Lia, take the pizzelles to the uests this afternoon Hurry back, girl Do not dawdle and gawk! There is much to do"

As Lia approached the door with a tray of pizzelles, it opened froht blinded her for a nize the h she did not know him, he walked in as confidently as if he had entered the kitchens a hundred times

He was shorter than Lia, but as old as the Aldermaston and Pasqua He had a cropped beard that ell salted, le of hair atop his head The leather hood was pulled down about his dirty neck and shoulders, and he wore stained leathers beneath as well, a rough-looking tunic black with sap spots and a sheathed gladius belted to his waist The sight of the weapon struck Lia like thunder If that did not, the bow sleeve around his shoulder would have The wild look of him, the oil and leather smell of him, reminded her fiercely of the man she had buried in the Bearden Muir