The Brat Page 0,33

the gardens and ran into Balan."

"Lord Gaynor?" the maid asked with concern.

"Aye."

"My lady," Cecily murmured, then frowned and bit her lip as she helped remove Murie's surcoat.

"What is it, Cecily?" Murie asked.

"It is just... I should have mentioned this earlier, but there was really no opportunity."

"What?"

"Well, when I left last evening, I noticed Lord Gaynor lurking out in the hall with Lord Osgoode, and I did wonder ..."

"What?" Murie repeated with a frown.

"Nothing." The maid shook her head and folded the surcoat, then came to help with her gown. "I was talking to Mydrede today."

"Were you?" Murie said, her mind still on what Cecily had just told her.

"Aye. I asked her about ways to divine who your mate should be."

Murie nodded and forced herself to pay attention to the conversation. Mydrede was the oldest servant at court; a woman always happy to pass on any bits of wisdom, such as how to counteract the evil eye. "Why would you do that?" Cecily shrugged. "I heard today that they are debating the trustworthiness of the St. Agnes Eve ritual. Some seem to think that by eating rotten meat you will dream of the man you should not marry."

"Aye, I heard that myself," Murie admitted with a frown. She'd quite forgotten that on her walk with Balan. She also hadn't had a chance to ask Becker about it yet.

"Well, I asked Mydrede for other ways to sort it out," the servant explained. "I know 'tis a difficult decision, and you are finding it upsetting."

"Aye," Murie agreed. The maid had finished with the lacings and had lifted her gown up over her head. The truth was, Murie rather liked the idea of marrying Balan, and had ever since her dream. Now people seemed to be suggesting she shouldn't. Sighing as she was freed from the gown, Murie let her hands drop. "What did she tell you?"

"She gave me many methods," Cecily announced with enthusiasm. Setting the gown aside, she reached into a small bag at her waist and pulled out various leaves and little seeds.

"What is that?" Murie asked, leaning closer to eye the items.

"Ivy. Clover ... An ash leaf?"

"Aye. If you put the ivy leaf in your pocket, the first man you meet shall be the man you marry and similarly with the clover . . . though, that you put in your right shoe. The ash leaf works the same, though you have to recite a poem. Let me see . . ." She paused and scrunched her face up with concentration for a moment, then nodded. "It goes 'Even ash, even ash, I pluck thee off the tree. The first young man that I do meet, my lover he shall be.' And then you put it in your left shoe, and the first man you meet shall be your husband."

"But the poem says 'I pluck thee off the tree, 'and I did not pluck it. You did," Murie pointed out with a frown.

"Oh, aye." Cecily appeared disappointed.

"What are those seeds?"

"Oh." She brightened again. "These are apple pips. You put them on your cheeks, naming each for a possible husband, and the one that stays on the longest is the name of the man who will be your husband." Cecily was licking and sticking the pips to Murie's cheeks even as she spoke.

Not wishing to dislodge them, Murie tried to speak without moving her mouth and cheeks. "But I have no names to give them."

"Of course you do, my lady. There are several single men at court right now. Why, Lord Aldous is one. He is wealthy and handsome. And then there is..." She frowned.

'You see?" Murie said, and raised her hands to wipe the pips from her cheeks. Turning, she moved toward her bed. "I am tired, Cecily. We can talk more about what you learned from Mydrede in the morning. I do appreciate it, though."

"Aye, my lady," Cecily said, sounding disappointed. Trying to cheer her, Murie suggested, "Mayhap you could show me where to find the ivy, clover and ash leaves, and we can try them all tomorrow."

"Aye." The servant managed a smile, then moved toward the door. "Good sleep, my lady."

"Good night," Murie replied as the woman left. Climbing under the linens and furs, she settled herself on her side and stared into the flames of the fire Cecily had built up. It was late summer, and while the days were still warm, the evenings were beginning to cool; a fire helped keep the chill out. Murie gazed