At the Duke of Nottingham's palace, preparations were taking place for the forthcoming Yuletide celebrations. Mistletoe was hung in every doorway inviting young couples to linger underneath, a great Yule log had been acquired from the royal forests, once the trunk of a fir, and it now lay in restful wait for its celebratory cremation. Candle's surrounded the feasting hall, Black, gold and red ribbons hung intertwined with the house colours. In the kitchens a great hogs head was being seared of its hair, partridges were stuffed inside geese which were then stuffed into swans or peacocks and grand amounts of biting alcohol was mixed with dried fruits to make puddings. The cook dropped in a magickal charm made of silver and at the same time somebody stuck their finger into the mix.
"Hoi!" shouted the cook wielding the ladle, and upon sighting a grinning Marion she gently lowered it and said, "Beg pardon Milady." Marion congratulated the woman on such a powerful concoction.
"You shouldn't be down here Milady, your Lordship wouldn't approve." Said the cook through gritted teeth, she knew exactly who would be punished if Maid Marion was caught talking to the lesser members of the staff.
"But I'm thoroughly bored," said Marion twirling a tasting fork through her fingers like a baton. "I wanted to help with the decorating but they wouldn't have me there either. It'd be nice to get out once in a while without everyone knowing my every move." Marion knew exactly where she'd go, straight back to the wood. But if she were ever to actually try it and be found with the stranger, life wouldn't be worth living.
"Well go and ask your Lady if she'll teach you some cross-stitch or something, that will take your mind from it, but you can't stay in the kitchen, out out out!"
Marion wandered out from the warmth of the kitchen and into the outside followed closely by a great blast of steam from the meals simmering on the hobs. Far in the distance chickens were clucking, horses grazing and there was the faint clinking of shovels against the hard stone floor to be heard. Everything was as dull and as normal as the sky and time slowed even further. Marion decided to head over to the stables to see if she could be of any assistance there. She needed to pass the time until the celebrations began.
Outside the stables, Peter the ostler was brushing the thick winter hair of a white mare and cooing to her softly. "Hello kind sir," said Marion sidling up to the man. He brushed a long strand of brown hair away from his eyes and smiled at the pretty maiden.
"Helloa sweet Maid and how are you?"
"Bored," said Marion stroking the forelock of the mare. "Is she taking part in the celebrations?"
"Yep, this is Morgana Le Fay; she'll be pulling the sleigh with your uncle in. They're having music and jesters too you know. Would you like to help me dress her up?" Marion was thankful for the work and Peter was especially thankful for the time with Marion. He didn't worry about the consequences of being caught with her. They plaited Morgana's mane and tail with black, red and gold ribbons, threaded white lilies into the horse's hair and applied hoof oil. Next they attached a bridle of glittering silver bells consecutively spaced between dangling black tassels.
"She'll be the belle of the ball now," said Marion lovingly.
"Pardon me for speaking out of turn, but I wish I was taking you to the feast Marion," said Peter shyly and handing her a left-over lily. The girl blushed and thanked the handsome groom with a touch to his face. If she hadn't been so enthralled by the other man and had Peter been nobly born, she would have defiantly let him take her. She would just have to make do with the Baron of Yorkshire instead. At least he was so blind he probably wouldn't notice if she slipped away.
Three hours later, when the sky had turned to the colour of ink, the stars had come out to witness the event and the moon was surrounded by her frosted rings, the celebration began. Two thirds of the Noble elite of the North had turned up for it, the Duke of Nottingham being a very renowned figure of party-throwing, and they were now waiting in the courtyard for the most special guest of all, the King of England. King Richard. The jingling of sleigh bells sounded his arrival and a great applauding started up. Marion watched the mare she and Peter had transformed that afternoon trot up to the courtyard, silver bells flailing and pulling a magnificent gilt coach.
The King stepped out first, his crown shone on top of a head of golden curls and he lent his royal hand to his wife as she emerged glittering from the carriage. She was a beautiful lady, with hair as golden as her husbands and she wore a long elegant white ermine coat. Marion gasped and went forth with her father and mother to bow before her uncle.
"My Lord," said her father, kissing the King's hand. "Welcome to our home." Lady Nottingham curtsied and Marion did the same. King Richard just nodded and was led indoors to the feasting room.
Music was played in the galleries by a troop of trained musicians and minstrels. Candle's glimmered around and on the table, illuminating the many great platters laid out before the guests. Marion was seated next to her blind, bachelor escort much to her dismay, he wasn't a lot of fun to talk to, and even worse, just opposite was the Sheriff of Nottingham grimacing over his food and being closely guarded by two henchmen. Once again it was extremely difficult for Marion to enjoy the party with him glaring at her. She knew the look in his eyes and what he was after.
Following 7 courses and a lot of drinking, the Duke of Nottingham stood up and bowed to the King once more, "Now, for my honours pleasure, I present the Royal trio of Illusionists." There was a polite round of clapping but nobody had really heard of such a group before. Marion leaned around in her chairs searching keenly for who the mysterious band could be. Suddenly there came a large bang and a billow of smoke flew from the rafters. Everybody looked up to see three masked figures hanging suspended in the air. The shortest of the trio began to sing along with the lute playing of the musicians while the other two twirled on their ribbons, landed on the floor and began to juggle candles, swallow swords and play tricks upon the guests. The men picked their way among the plates on the table and blew dust into the faces of the Ladies and Lords who were so merry with drink that they didn't notice just what was hidden up their sleeves. Even Marion was so transfixed as one of the men came up to her and smiled, that she didn't notice his hand slip into the cravat of her escort and take the solid gold chains from around his neck. Towards the end, the trio ascended their coloured ribbons from the rooftop and disappeared. Everybody applauded again, this time more furiously and praised the Duke for such a wonderful choice in performers. Marion overheard the King say that 'Not in many years had he been enthralled by such wonderment'.
When the time came for the dancing at the final stage of the party, Marion quietly slipped away from the sleeping Baron and made her way through the castle to her bedroom. It had been a lovely Yuletide celebration but she didn't feel like dancing and she was afraid that the Sheriff of Nottingham would ask her, an offer she wasn't allowed to refuse. Lying on her bed, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was free to just relax and imagine how it might have been had the beautiful stranger turned up at the party to see her. He might have ridden up on a white steed himself and carried her off to save her from the Sheriff or the Baron or any other would-be suitors. She was just beginning to unwind in the dark when she heard the latch on her door click. Whoever had just entered crept silently over to the bed. She felt very afraid.