M

eet Grace and Wesley

Servants at Castle Dunworth

 

On the night of Christmas eve, Grace, her husband Wesley, and the other servants did not sleep. The castle’s chapel had been thoroughly cleaned and was now ready for the Angel’s Mass, the first of three Masses celebrated on Christmas Day. When the watchman called the hour of midnight, everyone in the castle ushered inside the chapel, eager to beginning the celebration of the birth of their Lord. Grace prayed for the child Jesus and asked Him to bless her and her husband.

After the service, Grace stifled a yawn. Wesley gave her a one-armed hug. “I wish we could go to bed. You’ve been so tired lately.”

“Aye, and sick to my stomach too. But no matter. There’s too much work to be done.” Grace, despite her young age at eighteen, was one of the main cooks. She kissed her husband and sent him away to clean the receiving hall.

So much food needed to be prepared for the lord and his lady and all of his guests. Grace set about her work, baking mince pies. She smiled as she worked, constructing each shell into an oblong shape to represent Jesus’ crib. Then she added cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. Her mother, a servant before her, had once told her that the three spices represented the three gifts the Magi gave the Christ child on that cold night in Bethlehem so long ago.

Hardly no time seemed to have passed before it was dawn, and time for the Shepherd’s Mass. Grace bowed her head and prayed but had to leave the chapel halfway through. Her stomach misbehaved, and she was sick into a bucket. Her husband followed her and rubbed her back. “Mayhap I should fetch the doctor,” he said, with worry in his dark eyes.

Grace shook her head. “No,” she said weakly. They could scarcely afford a doctor’s fee. “I am fine. Must be from the lack of sleep.”

Wesley pursed his lips and shook his head.A few hours later, and it was time for the Mass of the Divine Word. This time, Grace prayed that her stomach would cooperate and allow her to enjoy the good food that night.

 

 

 

 

 

The dinner spread was magnificent. With goose, swan, venison, and mince pies, the humble pies for the servants, even frumenty, the spicy wheat dessert Wesley loved. After the rich people ate their full, the servants cleared away their plates and bowl before sitting down to enjoy their own Christmas meal. A few of the servants stood up and dance and sang carols.

“Would you like to join them?” Wesley asked.

Grace grinned and accepted his outstretched hand. “I would be honored.”

They danced and sang until their feet grew sore and their voices were strained. Grace sat in the closest chair and closed her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Grace didn’t answer. Her stomach felt off. Strange. A little flutter. No, it was nothing. Just her imagination. “I’m fine.” She smiled at her loving husband but frowned when she felt it again.

“That’s it. I’m going to fetch the doctor.”

Grace grabbed his arm. “No, dear, there’s no need. Not for a few month’s time.”

“I don’t understand.”

Grace smiled. She placed his hand on her stomach. “I think I’m experiencing quickening.”

“That mean—”

“Yes. A baby!”

Wesley let out a loud cry and embraced his wife tightly. “I love you.”

“And I you.” She kissed him. Thank you, Christ child. I always wanted a child of my own. Grace sent up a silent prayer for her growing family. Christmas and family, a job, food, shelter, what more could she want?

 

Nicole Zoltack has finished her paranormal with romantic elements concerning a female assassin trying to find her father’s killer and is shopping it around to agents. She is the author of a medieval fantasy romance series The Kingdom of Arnhem: Woman of Honor and Knight of Glory. Her most recent short story is now available in the anthology Bloody Carnival from Pill Hill Press. To learn more about her and her works, visit her website at www.nicolezoltack.com.

 

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