Philomena stood on watch o’er her sisters. In the twilight, with candle and brands burning, the shadows swallowed all natural things. Beyond the ruins of the Warborough church, she looked with fear upon the dark shapes of the forest. For all she knew they might be Lucifer’s evil minions plotting further harm for her kith and kin. The woods by day, wherein she did find peace and comfort, by night became hostile and forbidding. Witches lurked behind the toxic holly spying on sleeping villages or lying in bramble patches awaiting their demon lovers.

The townsmen stood in solemn half-circle round the Lord’s servant. Philomena felt pity for him for he had not the tongue for mass. Twere better he return to his vow of silence. By the blessing of God and the teaching of her father, she knew the words he must be saying, but she could hear him not.

If the liturgy were correct, he would be saying, “omnipotens Deus, et dimissis peccatis vestries, perducat vos ad vitam aeternum.”

And thus in quiet tones, the townsmen replied, “Ah-men.”

She pulled her sister, Hilde, closer and looked with displeasure upon Aethelinda. Ignoring her Mother’s command, the brazen girl dared sidle amongst the men. Aethel stood near the young Scottish knight. Philomena could not make out his features in the dim light, but feared he looked often in her sister’s direction. She hoped not that he would chastise the girl whether she deserve or no.

The holy monk continued on in low, stammering voice. He mumbled “Indulgentiam” and hereupon he did cross himself. The eldest daughter of Lord Beasley mouthed the words with him as if to give him courage, “nostorum tribuat nobis omnipotens et misericors Dominus.”

And now she could speak aloud, “Ah-men.” Quickly, she did squeeze young Winifred who had not given correct response. With a start, the day-dreaming girl quickly added her tiny “Ah-men”.  Philomena looked to her Mother to see whether this lapse had been noted, but saw Lady Beasley’s head was turned to watch the road. Philomena felt a chill; she knew what her mother awaited so eagerly…her eldest, dearest son, Aubert and her daughter’s betrothed, Roger Roy of Nuneaton. For brief instant, Philomena dared pray that some dire calamity befell them on the road. With repentance in her heart, she then asked forgiveness for this sin.

Soon the service should be over and she could lead her sisters to Hall. She must parcel out duties for each. To little Hilde she would give the lover’s oaken spoons to set upon the high table. To Winifred must go the tankards for the low table as she was quick and would set them ere the men came for mead and meal. Ermengarde of the graceful hands would set her Mother’s dowry, the goblets of Nuneaton Hall, upon the ladies’ bench. She herself would take charge the high table’s most prized items, the Coventry chalices.  

The dusk grew darker and the sounds of the forest stilled. Philomena could make out the faint words, “Deus, tu conversus vivificabis nos.”

In sing-song, all the village replied, “Et-plebs to-ah lie-tee bee-tur in-tay.” Philomena rubbed her sisters’ backs with pride. They had spoken correct response though to mass they had not been since Epiphany-week.

She turned her attention again to her sister. In horror, she could tell Aethel was now making eyes at the young knight. Philomena made sign to her sister Ermengarde and pointedly looked at Aethelinda. Ermengarde put hand to mouth in fear. Aethel had the luck of the faeries for she went unseen by both mother and father. Wracked with worry, Philomena took up Hilde in her arms and pushed Winifred before her. She pressed her young sisters upon Ermengarde who took them with nary a word.

The Scottish priest spoke louder. So close to end of service, he now grew confident. “Ostende nobis, Domine, misericordiam tuam”

Under cover of the loud response, “Et sal-you tar-ee to-um da no-bis,” Philomena moved closer to her wanton sister as her eye roved twixt Lord and Lady Beasely. When she came upon Aethelinda, her hand darted and pulled the truant girl’s mantle. Aethel turned in surprise.

Close by now, she could hear the monk intone, “Domine, exaudi orationem meam.” She pulled again upon Aethelinda’s cloak.

Clearly she heard the nasally voice of Lonny the porter, son of the wainright Lorence, as he spoke in clumsy Latin, “Et claw-more me-us odd tay wean-ee-at.” With chagrin, Philomena looked at the knight Halpert and hoped he thought not ill of her townsmen. Their hearts were good, if their Latin were not. With these thoughts warring in her head, it was the ticks of two heartbeats before she realized the Scotsman was watching her openly. She bowed her head in modesty and pulled her sister away.

Before she reached the safety of Ermengarde, the priest had spoken the final words of Mass. “Dominus vobiscum.”

With hullaballoo, the folk of Warborough near shouted, “et come spirit-to to-oh!”

Philomena grabbed Ermengarde’s hand and together they lifted skirt to outrun the villagers to their hall. With gasping breath, she issued orders to each sister in turn. Her anger at Aethel would have no time for release. The Hall must be ready for guest ere the first foot of stranger touched the lintel.

Philomena did not look back, but Aethel did. She saw a most pleasing sight. The young Scots knight was watching her most surely. His eyes were turned her way and in the flickering brand light she could see a smile upon his lips. It may be a trick of the shadows or no, but Aethel’s heart beat hard with happiness. She fancied this man greatly and would tell any who came her way.

Within the smoky hall, Philomena found none but dogs and babes asleep. Blessing God and the virtuous saints, she did unlock her Mother’s dowry trunk. Drawing out the prized possessions, first she gave the spoons to Hilde that she might be well-hid before any approached. Next came out the great metal tankards, won in contests by Lord Beasley’s grandfather in the lists.

Twenty of the tankards were pewter and cold to the touch. These would go upon the lower table which was set this day along the length of the tapestries between entry and river doors.. Nine fine tankards were glass-bottomed and six of these were set for the Lumbermen who had made good haul this day. Mayhap this prize would make their journey back to forest less wearying. The final three were distributed to the men of high honor amongst the villagers, the blacksmith Kenric, the oldest man of the village, John Plow, and the fearsome hunter, Darral of Coventry.

Philomena next brought out her mother’s small oaken chest which held the twenty-four wine goblets of Nuneaton. They had been a gift from the current Earl’s mother. There had been high hopes that Lady Beasley would have married the Earl but it was not to be. He was of wicked appetite and did ne’er take a bride. He had, it was said, thirty children by many an ill-used woman, be she servant or vassal. Indeed, Philomena had heard from the Earl’s very sister, Goody Perkins, that he had killed a husband who disturbed the Earl in conquest of the poor man’s newly-wed bride. Philomena had taken the warning well and thus returned with the lumbermen that eve rather than stay within the Earl’s walls.

The chest she unlocked and handed to Ermengarde. “Begin at the door’s end and work towards the high table,” Philomena ordered. This was not customary for the glassware was usually placed in order of rank, but the table settings this night were all a jumble. Where customarily Lady Beasley sat at center flanked by the women in descending order, tonight she would sit near high table that she might hear the Scots priest. There was much whispering amongst the servants for she had chosen her daughter Aethelinda to sit at her right side, thereby the young girl would be much admired by both the Scotsmen and Roger Roy.

With great care, Philomena lifted out the box of the nine silver chalices of Coventry. Her father had received these as present from the Clerics of Coventry for his tithing. They were his greatest treasure and his secret pride. He loved to feast that he might bring them out without shame to glance upon. She carried the ebony box up to the high table and with key did unlock. She moved aside the velvet and smiled at the glowing metal.

First she did place in front of Father’s seat, his favorite goblet, embossed with his name saint, St. Edward. St. Andrew’s chalice, whom she had learned was the Scottish patron, was placed at Beasley’s right side for the blessed monk. Here she felt dilemma and finally chose the chalice of St. Florian for her father’s left hand. There would sit Roy and it pleased her to think he would drink from the patron of brewers. Perhaps St. Florian would keep Roy sober. For jesting her brother, she placed the chalice of St. George at the monk’s right hand for the knight Halpert .

She heard the footsteps of men entering and quickly placed the final chalices without considering to whom they might go amongst her brothers. She knew they wouldst trade amongst themselves after casting many an envious glance upon the Chalice of St. George.

With ebony box, she returned to the large chest. The serving women were placing cups of beer upon the lower women’s table under her mother's direction. Lady Beasley approached with hand outstretched, “Have you the keys, Pam. The tables are set. We must to table.” Philomena curtsied and returned the keys to her mother who attached them to the ring at her waist. With modest step, she followed her mother to the ladies’ high table to take her seat at Lady Beasley’s left hand.

She was pleased to see that Ermengarde set Winifred at her left hand so that the two sisters might watch the bold girl’s tongue. Hilde was hid beneath the bench already chewing the heel of a trencher. Philomena was about to ask from whom she stole the bread when Emmie urgently whispered “Pam” and pointed to the high table.

            With shock, she saw her florid, young suitor ignore the customs of the table to take the prize spot at her father’s right hand. Her father had not yet entered and the man already sat and bellowed for beer as he looked over the maidens of the room. Philomena felt her face go red and looked to her brother Aubert for assistance.

            But Aubert was at the lower men’s table talking to the woodsman Stanley about the haul he had seen as they passed on the Nuneaton road. Pam turned in desperation to her mother to forestall the insult. Lady Beasley considered and replied, “He knows not of the visitors or the priest amongst us who deserve the honor. It is no great sin. You must not look for fault in your betrothed for it is you who are at fault to do so.”

            Philomena heard breath inhaled in surprise and turned to see the knight and monk standing nie here. Her father was long down the table conversing with Widow Twopenny to thank her for a rare treat of Damson Plums that she donated for this feast.

            Philomena, in confusion, did stand and curtsey. She led the Scotsmen to the table for introduction. Her betrothed had the Chalice of St. George already to his lips. It would dishonor him now to remove. She introduced the strangers and then caught her second eldest brother’s eye. “Andy,” she said, “You have switched the cups.”

            “Oooh, aye, Pam,” he said. “How could you give my namesake’s cup to Roy who has no respect for which Saint Andrew truly deserves.”

            Philomena shook her head at this calamity and said, “Saint Andrew is the patron of Scotland, you fool. That cup was for Brother Tobias who does us such great honor this e’en.”

            “You lie, Pam. Saint Andrew is the patron of fishermen. Do you say the Scots are fish? Are you saying that the knight Halpert is a big trout?” At these words, Roy spit out his mead in merriment and turned to clap an arm on his future brother-in-law.

            Pleased by the success of his joke, Andrew stood and called to all his brothers, “Here now, I would introduce you to the Big Trout and Brother Tobias who have traveled from Perthshire to visit with us. To their health!” Andrew raised his chalice and drank deeply. In disgust, Philomena removed herself.