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Authors: Lord of Enchantment
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pass.”
Tristan lifted a ravaged countenance to her and hissed, “You know not of a certainty. No one can be sure. What if I’m trapped forever in this soulless void? I have nothing to grasp, nothing upon which to stand, no name, no past, no family—nothing.”
Pen hesitated, then squeezed his arm briefly. “If such a thing comes to pass, why, then, you will be Tristan, brought to this isle through the enchantment of a storm. You will begin from there.”
He gave her a twisted smile.
“Dare I hope, Mistress Fairfax, to receive your sweet comfort? It seems you’re not alone in having needs. Is that not a thunderstroke of a discovery?”
Pen felt heat rush to her cheeks, but before she could recover her wits, the blast of a horn caused both of them to spring to their feet.
“Jesu, what is that foul noise?” Tristan asked, grimacing.
Pen listened to the horn, then burst into a run. “It’s Dibbler and the pigs! Come, we must hurry before Ponder gets them.”
She burst out of the keep and down the stairs. As he joined her in running across the bailey to the gatehouse, she heard him mutter.
“Pigs again. God deliver me from perfidious storms and pigs.”
TO ROAST A PIG
T o roast a pig curiously, you shall not scald it, but draw it with the hair on, then, having washed it, spit it and lay it to the fire so as it may not scorch, then being a quarter roasted, and the skin blistered from the flesh, with your hand pull away the hair and skin, and leave all the fat and flesh perfectly bare; then with your knife scotch all the flesh down to the bones, then baste it exceedingly with sweet butter and cream, being no more but warm; then dredge it with fine bread crumbs, currants, sugar, and salt mixed together, and thus apply dredging upon basting, and basting upon dredging, till you have covered all the flesh a full inch deep; then the meat being fully roasted, draw it and serve it up whole.
CHAPTER V
Tristan followed the whirlwind that was his benefactress as she scurried up the stairs within the gatehouse to the battlements. She’d changed on him again, launching into her guise as a kind of madcap female outlaw. No woman should behave so. And while she was doing it, she was wearing blue and white, a gown of fine wool that made her look like a bit of sky and clouds topped by the sunshine that was her hair. He chased strands of gold up the stairway.
Once on top, he found her dancing with excitement and gazing across the countryside in the direction of the wood. Beside her stood the pink and earnest Erbut, grasping a rope that dropped over the castle wall. Both Erbut and his mistress were pointing and shouting.
“Hurry, make haste!” cried Pen.
She jumped up and down and waved her arms. Not a few moments before, she’d been comforting him sweetly. Where was Penelope Fairfax, the gentlewoman?
Tristan watched Pen in irritated disapproval. Then he shaded his eyes and looked over the battlements to see Dibbler, Wheedle, and Sniggs herding their porcine charges down the path that led from the woods to the castle. Beside him Pen hopped and shrieked encouragement as the pig guard tried to hurry animals never meant to go faster than an energetic saunter.
Behind them came five men on foot, all of them armed, all of them limping and stumbling. The spectacle of liveried men-at-arms chasing pigs caused Tristan to squeeze his eyes shut in disbelief. Upon opening them, he watched the pig guard exhort its waddling charges up to the castle and over the drawbridge while Pen and Erbut cheered.
As the pursuers raced toward the drawbridge, Pen tugged on his arm.
“Help us!”
She stepped behind Erbut and grabbed a length of the rope, bracing her feet. He hesitated, knowing her lunatic habits.
“Come, Tristan, before it’s too late,” she pleaded.
He shook his head, but at her imploring look, he relented and took up the rope.
“Pull now!” she cried.
They all yanked on the rope. Nothing happened. Tristan rolled his
Tristan lifted a ravaged countenance to her and hissed, “You know not of a certainty. No one can be sure. What if I’m trapped forever in this soulless void? I have nothing to grasp, nothing upon which to stand, no name, no past, no family—nothing.”
Pen hesitated, then squeezed his arm briefly. “If such a thing comes to pass, why, then, you will be Tristan, brought to this isle through the enchantment of a storm. You will begin from there.”
He gave her a twisted smile.
“Dare I hope, Mistress Fairfax, to receive your sweet comfort? It seems you’re not alone in having needs. Is that not a thunderstroke of a discovery?”
Pen felt heat rush to her cheeks, but before she could recover her wits, the blast of a horn caused both of them to spring to their feet.
“Jesu, what is that foul noise?” Tristan asked, grimacing.
Pen listened to the horn, then burst into a run. “It’s Dibbler and the pigs! Come, we must hurry before Ponder gets them.”
She burst out of the keep and down the stairs. As he joined her in running across the bailey to the gatehouse, she heard him mutter.
“Pigs again. God deliver me from perfidious storms and pigs.”
TO ROAST A PIG
T o roast a pig curiously, you shall not scald it, but draw it with the hair on, then, having washed it, spit it and lay it to the fire so as it may not scorch, then being a quarter roasted, and the skin blistered from the flesh, with your hand pull away the hair and skin, and leave all the fat and flesh perfectly bare; then with your knife scotch all the flesh down to the bones, then baste it exceedingly with sweet butter and cream, being no more but warm; then dredge it with fine bread crumbs, currants, sugar, and salt mixed together, and thus apply dredging upon basting, and basting upon dredging, till you have covered all the flesh a full inch deep; then the meat being fully roasted, draw it and serve it up whole.
CHAPTER V
Tristan followed the whirlwind that was his benefactress as she scurried up the stairs within the gatehouse to the battlements. She’d changed on him again, launching into her guise as a kind of madcap female outlaw. No woman should behave so. And while she was doing it, she was wearing blue and white, a gown of fine wool that made her look like a bit of sky and clouds topped by the sunshine that was her hair. He chased strands of gold up the stairway.
Once on top, he found her dancing with excitement and gazing across the countryside in the direction of the wood. Beside her stood the pink and earnest Erbut, grasping a rope that dropped over the castle wall. Both Erbut and his mistress were pointing and shouting.
“Hurry, make haste!” cried Pen.
She jumped up and down and waved her arms. Not a few moments before, she’d been comforting him sweetly. Where was Penelope Fairfax, the gentlewoman?
Tristan watched Pen in irritated disapproval. Then he shaded his eyes and looked over the battlements to see Dibbler, Wheedle, and Sniggs herding their porcine charges down the path that led from the woods to the castle. Beside him Pen hopped and shrieked encouragement as the pig guard tried to hurry animals never meant to go faster than an energetic saunter.
Behind them came five men on foot, all of them armed, all of them limping and stumbling. The spectacle of liveried men-at-arms chasing pigs caused Tristan to squeeze his eyes shut in disbelief. Upon opening them, he watched the pig guard exhort its waddling charges up to the castle and over the drawbridge while Pen and Erbut cheered.
As the pursuers raced toward the drawbridge, Pen tugged on his arm.
“Help us!”
She stepped behind Erbut and grabbed a length of the rope, bracing her feet. He hesitated, knowing her lunatic habits.
“Come, Tristan, before it’s too late,” she pleaded.
He shook his head, but at her imploring look, he relented and took up the rope.
“Pull now!” she cried.
They all yanked on the rope. Nothing happened. Tristan rolled his
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