Chapter 17
Dinner with the Goddess of Love
His eyes lighting up over his second glass, Carlisle complemented his hostess. "Your Highness, this is absolutely the most delicious food and the most delightful wine I have ever tasted."
May had been dreading another rowdy banquet like the night before, but she found to her relief that tonight's supper had been prepared just for the four of them. May, Carlisle, Venus, and Sheila sat at an elegantly set round table in a small circular tent.
"Thank you, sir," said Venus, lazily relaxing against her pink velvet chair back. She had on a low cut dress of red satin. "People tell me that the wine here is exquisite, though of course I have never known any other."
"I don't remember when I've tasted anything quite like it, Your Highness," said Carlisle, taking another appreciative sip from his glass.
The first course had already been served: oysters in a half shell. May poked at one of the gooey gray blobs with a small fork shaped like a trident.
"Don't eat them if you don't like them, dear," said Venus.
"Thank you," said May, putting her fork down and reaching for a croissant.
"The music is simply beautiful, Your Highness," said Sheila of the gentle harp music that seemed to rise up from the very ground and treble in the air around them.
"That's funny, somehow all I can hear is a dull rapping sound," said May. She shot Carlisle a pointed look, and he stopped tapping his fingers on the table. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, rubbed his forehead and reached for his wine glass again. He seemed to suddenly think better of it and stopped himself.
Venus touched his arm delicately. "Why, Sir Carlisle, you look flushed. Come now, surely a few tiny sips of wine could have no effect on such a great tall man as you."
"Oh hardly, Your Highness," he said. "It's just that the tent is rather warm."
"And what did you expect in a wool suit? I don't know why you didn't just wear what the attendants left out for you. The only cure for it now is to strip!" Her words produced the desired effect by making his face turn an even darker shade of crimson. Venus laughed. "You really are a charming man. I only meant for you to take off your jacket."
Looking relieved, he stood up and began unbuttoning his jacket with one hand. "Thank you, Your Highness, though I really shouldn't."
"Nonsense, there's no need to be formal here. As you can see, we only dress lightly ourselves."
With a boyish grin on his face, he said, "I can't deny I had noticed that."
She waggled a finger at him. "Ah, ah, ah, I thought you might have."
Carlisle fumbled around with the last button on his coat then shrugged the jacket off one of his shoulders. A handmaiden behind him assisted in removing the rest of it.
"Thank you, miss," said Carlisle, as he sat down, drew his chair in and reached for his glass again. As soon as he emptied it, a serving woman came into the tent and refilled it. When the woman spotted the empty goblet at May's table setting, she moved the decanter to pour some wine into it.
"None for them, thank you," he said, shooting his hand out over May's glass.
Annoyed, she said, "You know, you're not our—"
"You should really listen to your uncle, dear," interrupted Venus. "He's only thinking about your welfare."
May smiled insincerely back at Venus before saying to Carlisle in a scolding tone, "Maybe you should start thinking about your own welfare, Uncle. How many glasses does that make?"
"Don't be a ninny, it's only wine," said Carlisle, but he looked oddly at his glass when he said it.
Another handmaiden came in with a pitcher of raspberry lemonade for the girls.
"Cinnamon and vanilla," mused Sheila dreamily as the woman filled her glass.
"What?" asked May, worried her friend was starting to lose her mind as well as her memory.
"Haven't you noticed, Lady May? It's the handmaidens."
She looked at the woman who was removing her plate of untouched oysters. The woman's skin was the color of cinnamon under a sheen of glowing translucent gold. Sheila was right. The woman did smell very distinctly of cinnamon and vanilla.
"Have they all been that way?" she asked.
"Yes. The last woman smelled like licorice."
"I couldn't figure out where it was coming from!" The cinnamon scented woman bumped against the back of May's chair. "Don't you think this tent is a little small?"
Another serving woman, blonde, came in and topped off Carlisle's wine with a smile. After she was gone, May said, "Lilacs?"
"Honeysuckle," said Sheila.
"Lilacs," said Carlisle, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his lap. He looked up to find them both staring at him.
"May's right. Lilacs," he said simply.
"See," said May to Sheila.
Carlisle picked up his newly filled wine glass and said, "Um ... this certainly is a curious vintnage—I mean, vintage. The stuff back at the castle is dreadful."
"Tomorrow you really must take a stroll with me through the vineyards," said Venus.
"T'morrow?" said Carlisle.
May shook her head at him.
He said, "I'm sorry, Your Highness. We need t' head out early."
"Why surely you could spare a few moments in the morning before your departure? The vineyards are simply beautiful this time of year. Acres and acres of the finest vines imaginable. The way the mist moves through them at sunrise is breathtaking." She plucked a grape from the centerpiece on the table and sighed wistfully before touching it to her scarlet lips. "Oh, how I only wish I were a painter."
Sheila said, "But Sir Carlisle aren't you—"
May shushed her.
"I knew it," exclaimed Venus.
"Knew what?" said Carlisle, putting his empty glass down.
"There's just something about an artist. I can always tell. That settles it. You simply must come with me tomorrow."
"That won't be possible," said May.
Carlisle said: "Yes, thass right. I'd dearly love to, but we need to get goin' first thing. Anyhow, I can't. I ain't got none o' my brushes with me."
May just stared at his flushed face. He was getting sloppier by the second!
"Pish-posh. A minor problem," said Venus, waving a handmaiden over to refill his glass. "I can get you anything you need: brushes, canvas, easel, paints—I believe you mix your own, don't you?"
"Well, I 'spose I could delay the launch for just— "
"Oh no you couldn't," said May.
"Right. Right. I 'preciate the offer, Your Highness, but I promised the girls. You see they miss home somethin' terrible." Bleary eyed, he smiled warmly at May and placed a weighty hand on her head.
She rolled her eyes. Dinner had hardly started and he was more than half in the bag already. But then she remembered the whole tankard of rum he had swallowed on the pirate ship. He couldn't be that much of a lightweight.
Something must be wrong with the wine.
Carlisle removed his hand from her head and said to Venus. "Please don' be 'fended."
"Rest assured there is no offence taken, sir, though I truly do wish you would reconsider." Then Venus put her hand on his arm, leaned in closely to him and said something that May couldn't hear.
May picked up her water glass and said loudly. "Is this tap water?"
"It's from the Holy Spring, dear," said Venus, sliding a look at her, taking her hand from Carlisle's sleeve.
"Filtered?"
Venus's eyes went a slate gray color. "I'm afraid not."
May sniffed the water, inspected the rim for fingerprints and took a small sip. "Uncle, maybe you should lay off that hooch and try some of this holy water instead."
A redheaded woman in a low cut dress walked in to drop off bowls of tomato bisque. "Cantaloupe," said Sheila of the woman's scent.
May shook her head. "That's got to be watermelon."
Carlisle began searching around his plate for something. "Your Highness, I don't 'spose you could tell us 'bout this place we'
re goin' to t'morrow?"
"I'm afraid I can't tell you a lot. The lands to the west change more often than they used to. This new one has not been there very long. The Zephyrs have investigated and say there is a small village there. Did you lose something, sir?"
"Jus' looking for—"
"Your napkin's right there," said May, pointing to a spot on the floor between Carlisle and herself.
"I'll get it for you, sir," said the serving woman who smelled like cantaloupe, bending down to pick up the napkin.
"Quite unnecessitary, miss," said Carlisle. "I'll get it." But the woman was halfway to the floor already. The sight of her full cleavage was unavoidable even for May.
May shot such a look to Carlisle that he straightened to sitting, held out his hand for his napkin and stared at his plate.
The handmaiden patted him on the shoulder. "I'll go get you another, sir," she said before leaving the tent.
Carlisle cleared his throat and said, "Sheila, would y' be a dear an' pass the salt?"
"But the shakers are right in front of you."
"Oh, how stupid o' me." He grabbed the pepper and sprinkled it on his soup. Confused by the black flecks that came out, he put down the pepper cellar. Reaching for his wine without looking, he knocked the entire glass over.
Venus asked, "Was there anything else that you needed to know, sir?"
"'Bout what, Your Highness?" Carlisle asked, watching a handmaiden dab at the dark red wine stain with a napkin. The tablecloth whitened with each dab of the cloth in her hand until it shone pure white again. Before she left, the woman deposited a new glass in front of him, filled to the rim.
"About the place you're going to tomorrow," said Venus.
"Right, right, sorry." Still staring at the magically whitened cloth, he picked up his goblet without looking, took a sip, and went into a coughing fit. Inspecting the goblet in his hand he found that it was half full of raspberry lemonade. He spotted his wine glass in May's hand and wrenched it away from her.
He said to a passing handmaiden, who had long dark hair and smelled of ginger, "Pardon, miss? Ma niece an' I assidentally drank out o' each other's cups."
"I'll get you both another," she said with a curtsey, taking the two goblets from him.
May's head was spinning from the sip of wine she had snuck from Carlisle's glass. She had suspected the wine was drugged; and though she wasn't a complete stranger to her parents' liquor cabinet, she still wasn't sure. What she was sure of, was that the wine was dizzyingly potent and seemed to fill up every hollow space she had inside her in a rush of pure bliss.
Salad was served next by a platinum blonde smelling of freshly washed, lavender scented linens. May aimed for one of the cruets of salad dressing on the table. Next to her, from what seemed a long way away, she heard a commotion and clinking of plates.
"Whoa!" shouted Carlisle, standing up covered in lettuce.
"Oh, how clumsy of me," exclaimed the handmaiden.
"Really, you must be more careful, dear," scolded Venus. "You've spilt lettuce all over the poor man."
"Oh no, please don't, Highness. 'S'my fault really. I should watch where I put ma big feet," he said, smiling at the handmaiden like a silly schoolboy.
"Let me get those for you, sir," said the handmaiden, brushing salad greens off his vest.
"Oh, don' trouble yourself, miss," said Carlisle, looking down and whisking himself off with his napkin. The sudden motion caused him to teeter forward. He caught his hands on the table and sat down.
The main course was chicken in a brandy peppercorn sauce. May was glad when it came, hoping that Carlisle would eat enough to offset the amount of liquor he had consumed.
Unfortunately, if anything, the food just seemed to make him more thirsty, and as soon as he finished his glass, yet another more beautiful serving woman came in to fill it back up again. The next time Carlisle went to take a sip, May snapped at him, "Don't you think you've had enough?"
"For pity's sake, May. Ya soun' jest like my—." He shook his head sloppily. "Do y'self a favor—no man likes a nag."
May felt the last of the glorious feeling from the enchanted wine leave her, exposing everything all raw and jagged again.
The next woman that came in was an auburn-haired beauty in a gold dress.
"I can't get this one," said Sheila. "It's like familiar and not familiar at the same time."
May didn't want to play the game anymore. "She smells like rotten apples to me," she said.
Carlisle leaned toward Venus. "Highness, I gotta ask 'bout somethin'."
"You do, sir?"
He whispered loudly, "Yes, an' ye've been so kind, I feel somewhat awkward in broachin' the subject."
"Don't be silly. Not at all, sir."
"It's jest when the servants took ma clothes—y' know—to wash 'em—I had sumpin' in one o' the pockets—"
"I definitely smell apples, but it's spicy too," said Sheila.
"It's probably just pie," said May curtly, trying to catch the gist of the conversation across the table.
"Could be, but I also smell cloves."
"Pie."
Carlisle looked over the table at them and said something that May couldn't make head nor tails of.
"Hot mulled apple cider?" said Sheila. "What's that?"
"You understood that?" cried May. Then she said loud enough for Carlisle to hear, "Well, it's no wonder we didn't get that one, Sheila. No one's had that for years."
If he heard her, he didn't show it. With his face turned away from her, he continued to speak to Venus in quiet tones, but she could no longer make out what he was saying. As they finished talking, May watched Venus pat Carlisle's arm and smile warmly.
After their hushed conversation, he sat back in his seat with his wineglass pressed against his chest, his eyelids blinking slowly. She could hear his breathing, slow and steady, somewhere in the brooding realm between wine and sleep. Venus motioned for a handmaiden to come and wait on him. He didn't notice the woman at first, and when she asked him a question, he jumped.
The handmaiden said in a pretty Irish accent, "Oh, ah didna mean to startle ye, sir. Only, I see that yer cup is empty, would ye be liking some more?" She motioned delicately with the green decanter in her hand.
"Roses," whispered Sheila.
Carlisle's eyes wandered over the woman, her dark hair, her lacey white dress. He seemed unable to answer her.
May got up and took the forgotten wine glass out of his hand. Giving it to the handmaiden, she said, "Just bring him some coffee. A lot of it."
"Certainly, m'lady," said the woman with a delicate curtsey.
"Bring the pot," called May after her.
A minute later, the woman returned with a platter of poached pears, a carafe of coffee, and four cups and saucers. She put a sugar cube and cream into Carlisle's cup, making his coffee without even asking how he took it, then whisked the coffee around with a teaspoon and placed it in front of him. He stared at the creamy liquid as it swirled around the cup.
When the handmaiden placed a poached pear in front of the goddess, Venus cried, "Oh, what a disappointment! Really, I simply must talk to Chef. I'm not very fond of poached pears, are you? Sure they're pretty to look at for a while, but they're so cold, don't you think?" She pushed her dessert plate away. "I don't think I'll even bother. I would only be wishing it were something else—a nice piece of pie or cobbler, for instance." She sighed and put her chin on her hand. "Humbler dishes perhaps, but far more warm and inviting, don't you think, Sir Carlisle?"
When he didn't answer her, she put her hand on his shoulder and said softly, "You've been awfully quiet for a long while now, sir." Venus eyes were sapphire blue as she gazed at him.
Carlisle's voice had taken on the mellowness of the wine in his blood. "I fear I am poor comp'ny tonight, ma'am."
"Nonsense, sir. I have found your company most enjoyable. But I sense you may not be feeling well."
"Yer right, Yer Highness. Would ya be so k
ind?"
"Of course. You may go if you wish."
"Thank you, Yer Highness." Carlisle placed both palms down on the table and stood up just as the dark haired handmaiden who smelled of roses arrived with his jacket in her hands.
Venus plucked a candied orange peel off her pear and asked, "Would you like to have one of the handmaidens escort you to your tent, sir?"
The woman at the door, curtseyed, "I'd be glad to do it m'self, Yer Highness."
I'll bet you would, thought May.
Carlisle took one of his hands off the table and rubbed the back of his neck with it. He hovered over the table, wavering back and forth on his feet.
Now that the sip of enchanted wine had worn off completely, May could feel the same old familiar dull ache of lacking and vague dissatisfaction she had grown accustomed to all her life, only now it was acute after having had the feeling of complete fulfillment to measure it against. Against reason, she felt herself wishing for another glass.
If the wine here had that effect, what about other things? She suspected that if the handmaiden walked Carlisle to his tent, he might never leave this place. He would end up just another one of the mindless, faceless people that followed Venus around endlessly. And what would happen to herself and Sheila? Would they ever be able to get home? May felt certain that she would go crazy in this place. Or maybe she would lose her memory like Sheila. Would she forget who she was? Forget she was May?
And Carlisle wasn't a monk. What was to prevent him from accepting this woman's offer which seemed to include more than just walking him to his tent? As far as he knew, he was completely unattached. The realization that she should have told him about his wife came too late.
But even if she had told him, what's to say it would have mattered to him anyway?
She decided finally that she owed him the benefit of the doubt since it had been her decision to keep the information from him. She suspected that whatever resolve he might have mustered against this simpering minx waiting at the door had probably left him three or four glasses ago. All it would take would be a soft look, a little stumble in the dark, then the handmaiden would lean against him ...
May stood up, tossed her napkin on the table and said to Venus, "Oh I think you and your handmaidens have done quite enough already, don't you? Wait for us, Uncle. I'm suddenly feeling like I'm going to puke."
"Escellent! Let me walk ya to ya tent," he said, though he didn't move from the table whatsoever.
She considered that what she had taken for drunken indecision might just be his inability to work out the logistics of moving away from the table without falling over. She moved his chair out of the way behind him and took him by the arm. "Lady Sheila, it's time to go. I'll need your help."
Sheila looked disconsolately at her half eaten pear, her fork poised in the air above it.
She leaned over the back of Sheila's chair and whispered, "Come on, Sheila. Let's let him walk us to our tent or he's liable to end up in a ditch somewhere. Besides, if you eat another bite, I think you just may pop the stitches on that dress."
"Oh fine," Sheila said wretchedly.
On their way out, May snatched Carlisle's jacket from the handmaiden, roughly. "Tart!" she hissed at her.