biggest, heaviest women in the village. They put on a wicked burlesque of what they imagined their wives and daughters did while they were out working in the fields. It consisted of gossiping, pointing fingers while they gossiped, eating, and drinking wine, lots of wine. Krispos' father did a fine turn as a tipsy lady who was talking so furiously she never noticed falling off her stool but lay on the ground, still chattering away.
The male spectators chortled. The women pelted the actors with more snowballs. Krispos ducked back into his house for a cup of wine for himself. He wished it was hot, but no one wanted to stay indoors and tend a pot of mulled wine, not today.
The sun set as he came back to the square. The village's women and girls were having their revenge. Dressed in men's short tunics and doing their best not to shiver, several of them pretended to be hunters bragging about the immense size of their kill—till one of them, fastidiously holding it by the tail, displayed a mouse.
This time, the watching women cheered and most of the men jeered and threw snow. Krispos did neither. One of the female 'hunters' was Zoranne. The tunic she wore came down only to mid-thigh; her nipples, stiff from the cold, pressed against its thin fabric. As he looked and looked, he felt a heat grow in him that had nothing to do with the wine he'd drunk.
At last the women skipped away, to thunderous applause. More skits came in quick succession, these mocking the foibles of particular villagers: Tzykalas' efforts to grow hair on his bald head—in the skit, he raised a fine crop of hay—Varades' habit of breaking wind, and more.
Then Krispos watched in dismay as a couple of fanners, plainly intended to be Idalkos and him, practiced wrestling. The embrace in which they ended was more obscene than athletic The villagers whooped and cheered them on.
Krispos stamped away, head down. He was at an age when he could laugh at others, but could not bear to have them laugh at him. All he wanted to do was get away from the hateful noise Because he was not watching where he was going, he almost ran into someone coming back toward the center of the village. 'Sorry,' he muttered and kept walking.
'What's wrong, Krispos?' He looked up, startled. It was Zoranne's voice. She'd changed back into her own long skirt and a coat, and looked a good deal warmer for it. 'What's wrong?' she said again.
'Those stupid jokers back there, that's what,' he burst out, 'making as if when Idalkos and I wrestle, we don't just wrestle.' Half his rage evaporated as soon as he said out loud what was bothering him. He began to feel foolish instead.
Zoranne did not help by starting to laugh. 'It's Midwinter's Day, Krispos,' she said. 'It's all in fun.' He knew that, which only made matters worse. She went on, 'Anything can happen on Midwinter's Day, and no one will pay any mind to it the day after. Am I right?'
'I suppose so.' He sounded surly, even to himself. 'Besides,' she said, 'it's not as if what they made out was true, is it?'
'Of course not,' he said, so indignantly that his changing voice left the last word a high-pitched squeak. As if from nowhere, the memory of Iakovitzes' hand on his back stirred in his mind. Maybe that was part of why the skit had got under his skin so.
She did not seem to notice. 'Well, then,' she said. Back by the bonfires, most of the villagers erupted in laughter at some new skit. Krispos realized how quiet it was out here near the edge of the village, how alone he and Zoranne were. The memory of how she'd looked capering in that brief tunic rose again. Without his conscious mind willing it, he took a step toward her. At the same moment, she was taking a step toward him. They almost bumped into each other. She laughed again. 'Anything can happen on Midwinter's Day,' she said softly.
When Krispos fled that embarrassing skit, he hadn't worried about picking a direction. Perhaps not surprisingly, he'd ended up not far from his own house; as usual, his father had preferred one on the outskirts of the village. Suddenly that seemed like a blessing from Phos. Krispos gathered his courage, reached out, and took Zoranne's arm. She pressed herself to his side.
His heart hammering, he led her to his doorway. They went inside together. He quickly shut the door behind them to keep the heat from the firepit in the middle of the floor from getting out.
'We'd better hurry,' he said anxiously.
Just then, more laughter came from the center of the village. Zoranne smiled. 'We have some time, I think.' She shrugged off her coat, got out of her skirt. Krispos tried to undress and watch her at the same time, and almost fell over. Finally, after what seemed much too long, they sank to the straw bedding.
Krispos soon learned what everyone must: that knowing how man and woman join is not enough to keep that first joining from being one surprise after another. Nothing he thought he knew made him ready for the taste of Zoranne's soft skin against his lips; the feel of her breast in his hand; the way the whole world seemed to disappear but for her body and his.
As it does, it returned all too quickly. 'You're squashing me,' Zoranne said. Brisk and practical, she sat up and picked bits of straw from her hair, then from his.
Given a little more time and a little less nervousness, he might have enjoyed that. As it was, her touch made him spring up and scramble into his clothes. She dressed, too—not with that frantic haste, but not taking her time, either.
Something else he did not know was whether he'd pleased her, or even how to find out. 'Will we ... ?' he began. The rest of the question seemed stuck in his mouth.
Zoranne did not help much. 'I don't know. Will we?'
'I hope so,' Krispos blurted.
'Men always hope so—that's what women always say, anyhow.' She unbent a bit then. 'Well, maybe we will —but not now. Now we ought to get back to where everyone else is.'
He opened the door. The freezing air outside hit him like a blow. Zoranne said, 'We should go back separately. The grandmothers have enough to gossip about already.'
'Oh.' Krispos had wanted to shout it from the housetops. If Zoranne didn't... 'All right.' He could not keep the disappointment out of his voice, though.
'Come on,' she said impatiently. 'I told you this wouldn't be the last time.' As a matter of fact, she hadn't quite said that before. Thus encouraged, Krispos willingly shut the door again and watched Zoranne slip off into the
