Esther M. Friesner - A Beltaine And Suspenders.pdf - Esther M. Friesner - widez2

Esther M. Friesner

A Beltaine And Suspenders

I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU say, Olivia; it's no natural place." John Herrick, Vicar

of Staddle -upon-Truss, dashed the papers onto the pew beside him and lifted his

well-chiseled chin in a manner straight out of the more popular female romances.

To the casual observer, Father Herrick did not seem a typical servant of the

Lord, unless it were Lord Byron.

"You dropped one," said Telemachus Battle- Purfitt, frantically wiggling long,

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pale fingers at the errant sheet.

The vicar retrieved the page and gave it a superficial glance. "Oh, that's

merely a copy of an especially intriguing passage from the Stilby -Nash. You may

have it for your records, if you like. I've the original." He offered it to

Telemachus.

"No, no thanks, nonono , not to bother." Telemachus fairly gasped out the words,

backpedaling swiftly until his shoulders were nearly pressed flat against the

bizarre mural on the parish church wall which he had been at such pains to

uncover and restore for these past seven months. Flakes of plaster clung to his

jacket and blobs of freshly applied tempera stained his cuffs, but it did not

seem to matter to him so much as his successful escape from accepting the

vicar's paper.

"Do give it up, Father John," said Olivia Drummond in her clear, capable voice.

In heavy walking tweeds and thick brogues, she lounged against another pew as if

she were the squire of some rural seat come to exercise political bonhomie by

mixing with the locals at the pub. "He won't touch a thing that's been on the

floor, even if it is a consecrated one. You know our Tilly and germs."

A weak smile fairly doubled over Telemachus ' meagre -fleshed face. "Just a

precaution," he quavered, scampering back up the scaffolding to the safety of

his scrapers and palette knives. "Mummy says one never knows, especially after

all thoseLondonmites trampling through the house."

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Father Herrick stacked his papers smartly. "I don't know why your mother ever

agreed to take in so many city kids during the Blitz, old boy. Not if it was

half the strain you paint it."

A spark of alien fire kindled in Telemachus ' shallow blue eyes, a fugitive Bolt

of gumption striking his book-curved spine abruptly stiff. "Whatever her

personal feelings in the matter, Mummy has never been known to shirk the

performance of her duty."

"Too right." Olivia laughed until her skinny shoulders shook beneath their

burden of woven wool. "Englandexpects, but Lady Battle- Purfittforestalls. Oh,

don't look at me that way, Tilly ! You know I'd die before disdaining your

sainted mummy's devotion to what's expected of her in this world. In fact, I'd

give a good deal to meet her. Admirable woman. She saved those poor little

guttersnipes from the German bombs all the same, whether she did it out of

Christian charity or because it went with the image of lady of the manor."

"They were just so . . . unsanitary." Telemachus shuddered. He daubed at a badly

faded section of the mural with a camel's hair brush. "So precocious, too."

"Don't tell us again about how your mother caught a pair of them making the

beast with two backs in the pergol ." Olivia strolled up to the scaffolding and

rested an elbow on the wooden frame. Telemachus gave a small squawk to feel the

timbers shake ever so slightly and Olivia desisted.

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"How could they?" Telemachus shook his head, patting his bedewed brow dry with a

folded pocket handkerchief. "They were only infants!" A hot flush overwhelmed

his sallow cheeks. "And I do not wish to discuss such--such carnal matters while

we are under this sacred roof!"

"Don't fret about Miss Drummond's choice of language for my sake, Telemachus ,"

the vicar replied with a superior chuckle. "I am quite understanding, even if

the Church is not. Back to the soft. It always proves to he too much for your

urbanized souls, no matter the age. The ancient fertility of the land. The Great

Mother's siren song. I'm not at all surprised. Your neck of the woods is rife

with nodes of chthonic power, Telemachus . Doesn't a day go by that some young

sprig of a folklorist isn't discovering a strangely isolated village in the

hinterlands whose inhabitants still cling stubbornly to the Old Religion, bound

to the earth by more than a tenant's agreement, serving arcane and ageless

deities, worshipping the fructifying forces in ways that aren't quite C. of E."

He lifted one corner of his perfect lips in a knowledgeable smile. "Don't look

so altogether scandalized, it's only good business practice to familiarize

oneself with the competition."

"Oh, for pity's sake!" Exasperation made Olivia's cheesy complexion acquire just

the hint of color along the hatchet-blades of her cheeks. "The Great Mother had

no more to do with it than my mother. These so-called 'kids' Tilly's mum caught

having it off in the pergola were a hot young village stallion of about twenty

and the sixteen-year-old sis of one of the Blitz babies. She had dugs like a

pair of V-l's and the morals of a Corn Goddess! Lady Battle- Purfittdoused the

pair of them with the contents of her watering can, hauled them off to the

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village church, and stood guard over'em with a loaded reticule until the banns

were read and they were safely married." She strode the length of the nave like

Nelson traversing the deck of the Victory, then added, "Besides,

Kingsfield-on-Ouseis hardly the fertility-mad hinterland you're so daft for.

It's in Sussex!"

Father Herrick's classically handsome face remained impassive. "So is this other

village I've been talking about. Lies within hailing distance of Kingsfield , as

a matter of fact, in a thickly forested part of the mountains, or so my sources

say."

"Mountains?" Olivia echoed, her voice pitching itself all the higher to reflect

her outright skepticism. She threw herself into the pew beside Father Herrick

and slapped the velvet cushions until dust motes streamed skyward. "Mountains in

Sussex? Really, Vicar, next you'll be speaking of French modesty and American

etiquette."

"Mountains." Father Herrick remained firm. "I said it was no natural place, did

I not? Yes, mountains, and bristling with the ageless, bearded giants of the

wildwood such as have not been seen on our shores since the misty dawning of the

Druids' reign."

"Druids did not ever reign. You know as well as I that they were teachers,

healers, advisors to the chieftains --"

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Esther M. Friesner - A Beltaine And Suspenders.pdf

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