and the crowd applauded.
I had a normal place setting before me. There was a long tablecloth that doubled, I discovered, as a napkin. Ihad a spoon, a cup, a bowl, a large pitcher of wine-beer for the commons-and a salt shaker made of a hard wheat roll with a finger hole punched in the top.
We at the head table each had these to ourselves because of the six empty places. Among the commoners, each pair shared a setting, almost invariably a man and a woman. Not that there was a scarcity of place settings, it was just one of those things one did at a banquet. You shared a spoon, shared a cup, shared with your sister or your wife.
Musicians took turns playing--a recorder, a shawm, a pipe and tabor, a krummhorn, a bagpipe. Not the Scottish war pipes, of course, but the higher-pitched, more friendly Polish version. They had obviously practiced long for the occasion. Only when the banquet was over did they play in concert.
Father John said an elaborate grace.
The first course was a stew. Somebody's grandmother ladled it out to most of the people, but we at the head table were graced with Krystyana's service. I winked at her, and she winked back.
Stew was followed by broiled steaks. Janina placed before me a thick slab of bread directly on the tablecloth, and a girl named Yawalda, to whom I had not yet been introduced, put a juicy slice of meat on it. I found out much later that it was from the horse we had lost in last night's snowstorm. It wasn't bad.
Course followed course, usually a meat thing followed by a grain thing. There were no fresh vegetables at all.
On the final course, the count himself got up. He took a huge tray from Natalia and Janina and personally handed a small piece of cake to each person in the room, laughing and joking continuously. He got halfway through the church and then went into his 'hall,' where he personally gave a piece to each child. He went up and down the hallways, putting a small piece in each baby's hand, or at least on his bedclothes. Then he came back into the church and passed out cake to every commoner he had missed before.
He returned to the head table, where he placed a piece in front of each chair, including the vacant seats of the ladies-in-waiting. He stared as if aghast at the pieces left on the tray and then went up the table again, doubling the 'nobles'' portions, to the applause of the crowd. Reaching the end, he put the five remaining cakes in his hand and pretended to count the crowd. Then he stuffed them into his own pouch, and the commons roared their approval.
I was so intent on this performance that I had not tasted the cakes. When Count Lambert sat down next to metwo empty chairs were between us-he said, 'Well, eat up, Sir Conrad.'
So I bowed and smiled and bit into one of them. It was good enough, but it was really only ordinary honey and nut cake. Nothing like the glories they make in modern, Torun. I waved Krystyana over.
'This is excellent, my lord, but I too have something to contribute to the feast.' When Krystyana got there, I said, 'Now, quick like a bunny! I have a piece of brown stuff wrapped in silver and some brown paper. The last I saw of it, it was on my bed. Bring it here quickly!' She was off like an arrow.
'This is some cake of your own?' the count asked.
'Something like that. Chocolate.'
As Krystyana came back, the other five girls were handing out bread rolls to the commons, without any helpers.
Seven pieces of chocolate were left. It was obvious that I couldn't share it with two hundred commoners and an equal number of children. There were five at the head table, plus six more who belonged there.
I broke each piece in two, got up, and started to put half a piece at each place.
The count stood up. 'It's some foreign delicacy,' he shouted. 'It's only this big.' He gesticulated. 'So there's only enough for the head table, plus some for the king and queen!' This also met with shouted approval. Had there been elections just then, I think Genghis Khan could have been voted in.
So I went on, passing them out, not missing myself. When I sat down, three pieces were left.
'What is this business about a king and queen, my lord?'
He was tasting his chocolate and staring wide-eyed. 'Why, we are about to select one of each, for the holidays at least. A king and a queen of misrule. See those small loaves they're handing out-wheat for the men and rye for the women? Well, in one of each sort of loaves there is a bean, and the two who get the beans shall be our king and queen for the festival. Further, you and I and the good Sir Miesko and Father John and wife shall become commoners!'
'You mean that the king would have the right to Francine?' I asked.
'She's married. Still, he might try; try and get away with it, perhaps, until the holiday was over. Then I'd cut the bastard's balls off! If I have no right to her, I'll be damned if any peasant can take her!'
'Uh. Yes. There are these three pieces left...'
'Well. One for the king and one for the queen. As to the last, well, rank hath its privileges.' He started to put it in his pouch, and then he stopped. He waved Natalia over. 'Give this to Pyotr Morocek's redheaded daughter.' As she darted away, he looked at me and said, 'It looks as though you are going to be robbing me of some of my ladies, Sir Conrad. I had better start restocking now!'
It evolved that Mrs. Malinski got the woman's bean and became queen. The blacksmith became king and ordered us 'common swine' away from the head table. A side table had been prepared for us.
His first act was to order up his own six 'ladies-in-waiting,' namely, the six fattest women in the church. Mrs. Malinski demanded her right to some 'boys-in-waiting,' and called up three septuagenarians, who snuggled up to her. All this was greeted with great ribaldry from the crowd.
The king demanded that the count show more respect for blacksmiths and should henceforth act like one.
A leather apron was brought forth, and a hammerLambert put them on and went through a parody that I would have appreciated more had I known the blacksmith better.
Sir Miesko was charged with abandoning his wife, and another was named in her place. This huge matron was given a feather pillow, and he permitted her to beat him around the room, to the commons' delight. A great deal of beer was circulating.
My turn came up. The 'king' said that since I was so adept at saving babies, I must be one of their breed. This had to be a setup, because all too soon three large women I had never met ran forward and pinned a huge diaper over my embroidered tunic and hose. I'd thought that the safety pin was a modem invention.
I was then forcibly presented with six large breasts to suck on, four of which were lactating. I survived. A television situation comedy would have contained higher, and considerably less coarse, humor.
Francine was then summoned. The 'king' claimed that she had shown her wonders to but a few and that this was unfair. He commanded her to strip naked and walk among the crowd to show them what beauty was.
I tensed myself for a fight. I was quite willing to put up with the buffoonery with regard to the count, Sir Miesko, and myself. I would not permit them to humiliate a priest's wife, even though the whole concept of a priest having a wife confused me.
I never had a chance to draw my sword.
Francine stood up from her seat at the side and pulled herself out of her garments. The crowd cheered. I was awestruck. She strutted and wiggled her way up and down the tables of the commons, pinching a chin here, kissing a hairy peasant's lips there. The cheering rose to deafening levels, and she gloried in it! At last, she came to our side table. She gave Sir Miesko a peck on the cheek, which he accepted. The count demanded more and stroked her from armpit to knee.
At my turn, I wanted much more. I sat her on my knee and kissed her. She wiggled her body close.
'But this is all for the Church,' she said with mock innocence. 'One must mingle with the barbarians and follow their customs.'
I didn't know if I wanted to beat her or rape her, so I handed her down to her husband. She stayed there the rest of the night, eventually permitting a cloak to be draped around her shoulders. The situation struck me as being more than slightly sick.
The priest and our six ladies were notably exempted from the hazing, as the king and queen turned on the commoners. All the musicians were playing in the hopes that they wouldn't be called out.
The various performances that the king and queen required of the commons were, if anything, even more crude than those required of the nobles. Most of them involved incomprehensible in-jokes that soon became boring.
