Page 1 of Lion and the Lamb: Easter

Chapter 1

Shrove Tuesday

The church bells of St. Alban’s could be heard clearly from the open windows of the kitchens of Bainard Castle in Torquay. They rang out loudly, announcing to all that Shrovetide was in progress, and the start of Lent was about to begin.

Lady Rachael Bainard stood in the doorway watching while the cooks busily prepared every type of food imaginable for the elaborate feast that would happen today. The servants worked diligently cooking and serving more food than could possibly be consumed in one sitting. They tried to use up all the meat, butter, milk and eggs since, starting tomorrow, none of this would be allowed for six weeks during the Lenten fast.

Albert, the head cook, flipped a small, flat cake in the air, catching it again in his cast iron pan. He’d put the first three cakes aside, marked with crosses and sprinkled with salt. They would assure no evil would come to the castle during Lent.

A group of children eagerly waited at his side with wide eyes. Hidden inside some of the palm-sized cakes were items for the children to find. A coin found inside the pancake meant that child would marry a rich man or woman. If they found straw, they’d marry a stablemaster, or a nail inside meant a carpenter would someday be their spouse.

“Would ye like to try a cake, my lady?” asked a servant girl holding up a very full tray of rich food.

The last thing Rachael needed was to find anything inside a pancake telling her who she’d marry. Unfortunately, that was something she already knew.

“No, thank you,” she replied.

“Perhaps some venison in dill gravy, or a plate of assorted cheeses or some blood puddin’ would interest ye more?” asked the girl.

“Nay, nothing for me,” said Rachael, spying her uncle walking past the kitchen, looking for her. She stepped back into the shadows and then snuck out the servants’ door, quickly making her way to the courtyard.

Each morning for the past two days, the nobles of Bainard Castle, as well as the serfs and servants, made a visit to the village church as was required of them. It was customary to be cleansed of the past year’s sins before the fasting began for the six weeks leading up to Easter.

Lady Rachael lurked in the shadows of the courtyard, hiding from her uncle and aunt. For days now, she had been procrastinating about going to confession. After all, no priest would absolve her from the horrible thoughts flooding her brain lately. She was sure that contemplating murdering a man had to be a mortal sin! Rachael was so angry right now that she felt like killing her uncle for betrothing her against her will to their enemy’s son.

“Lady Rachael, the wagons are packed and waiting to go. Your uncle has been looking for you. Where have you been?” called out her handmaid, Agnes, rushing over to join her. Agnes was an older woman in her late forties. Widowed and childless, the woman had watched over Rachael her entire life since the day Rachael was born. Agnes had even once been handmaid to Rachael’s late mother, Lady Grace. “Lord Stewart sent me to fetch you. Please, my lady, I suggest you stop avoiding him and just accept his decision.”

“Nay,” said Rachael with a shake of her head. “Agnes, you know as well as I that as soon as I confess my sins and leave the church, I will be rushed out of here and headed . . . straight to hell.”

“Oh!” gasped Agnes, holding her hand to her mouth. “Please don’t say such things, my lady.” Her dark eyes darted back and forth, scanning the grounds and she now spoke in a whisper. “Someone might hear you.”

“I hope they do,” remarked Rachael boldly. “I don’t really care. I won’t marry the Lion of the South, and that’s all there is to it.”

“But you must, Lady Rachael! It is an alliance made by your uncle, for the good of all.”

“It is not for my good, I assure you. I refuse to marry the son of our family’s enemy. My father would agree with me, I’m sure, if he were here. After all, he’s already promised that someday I will marry my brother Simon’s friend, Sir Clifford DuPont.”

“Your uncle is your guardian now that your father and brothers are away in France campaigning for the king, if I must remind you,” said Agnes. “Your father told you to listen to Lord Stewart, and you should not defy either of them.”

“Nay Agnes, I’m not defying anyone. I’m going to do what my father wants.” Rachael’s eyes scanned the area again, as she watched for her uncle. “I’ll marry Sir Clifford as soon as they return from France.”

Sir Clifford, as well as Rachael’s father and her two older brothers, had been stationed in France for the past five years. Rachael missed her family dearly.

“We both know that the only reason you say that is because you think they are never coming back,” said Agnes, boldly speaking her piece. “Besides, you aren’t really betrothed to Sir Clifford, but you are betrothed to Lord Lionel Hatchet of Cornwall now.”

“The betrothal to Sir Clifford might not be in writing, but it was a verbal agreement set up by my father,” Rachael explained.

“Uh huh,” said Agnes, crossing her arms over her chest, giving Rachael a look that said she didn’t believe it would ever transpire.

“Well . . . it’s true,” exclaimed Rachael. Still, she knew Agnes was right. Rachael was under her uncle’s guardianship now, and needed to listen to him even if she didn’t like it. She let out a deep, frustrated sigh. “Oh, Agnes, I don’t want to be married again.” She fussed with her hair, tucking it back under her headpiece and looked the other way. “Marriage is just not for me.”

“Your husband’s been dead for six years now and your son needs a father,” said Agnes in a scolding tone. “You should have married long ago, and you know it.”

“I don’t agree with that. Now, please stop trying to convince me I’m wrong, because I will do all I can to delay this trip.”

The church bells continued to ring in the distance, intensifying Rachael’s uneasiness. These past years being a single mother had been hard for her. Then again, her marriage to the late Sir Gregory Hornsby had been so horrible that she went back to being called by her maiden name of Bainard afterwards, not wanting to be associated with the man at all. Gregory had been an old man, more than twice her age. He’d also been a drunk and very mean. He’d treated her and their son, Andrew, terribly. Rachael didn’t want to go through an experience like that ever again.

“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter,” continued Agnes. “The wedding is scheduled for today, and you were supposed to have left two days ago. Now, stop stalling. As it is, if you leave now, you’ll be lucky to get there before midnight.”