Eggs, poached and served in a sauce of cream and sweet wines. Eggs, hard-boiled and sliced into a mixture of cheese and new peas. Eggs, hard-boiled and served cold with sea salt. There was ham, and roe deer, and salmon. Trenchers of hot barley cereal. Cottage loaves newly baked and fresh from the oven. Honeycombs and sweet butter. Wheels of Gwernach's Gold from the bride's own home. Everyone ate heartily, for the first entertainment of the day was to be a hunt in the forests surrounding Raven's Rock.
Wynne ate swiftly and then hurried to her apartments, where Megan waited to help her exchange her wedding gown for more suitable clothing for the hunt. In her garments of green and gold, the bride was selected to be the May queen that day. They spent the morning hunting amid the forested hills surrounding Raven's Rock, although their luck was not particularly good. At the noon hour the wedding party and their guests entered a clearing where a picnic had been laid out by the castle's servants. It was simple fare. Capon and small meat pies. Bread and several varieties of cheese. Tartlets of dried fruits. Bowls of tiny new strawberries and fresh, thick cream. There was ale and wine to slack the guests' thirst. After their picnic they returned to Raven's Rock, where archery butts had been set up in the gardens for their sport. A maypole had been erected as well, and Wynne led a number of ladies in the traditional May dance, moving with sprightly steps to the piper's tune as they danced about the pole, weaving their brightly colored ribbons of red, green, blue, and yellow until the pole was completely decorated. Some of the men stripped down and held a contest of wrestling skills.
There was an hour that followed when everyone returned to their chambers to rest and dress for the evening's banquet. As the sun sank with an orange-gold glow that stained the huge room with a barbaric light, the Great Hall at Raven's Rock began to fill once more with the wedding guests, refreshed by their brief hour and hungry again.
"How long has it been since these people have eaten, Madoc?" Wynne grumbled. "It is a good thing that they are going back to their own homes tomorrow, else they deplete our stores entirely." She had removed her hunting garb and was once again attired in her wedding gown.
Madoc, who had also changed back into his wedding finery, chuckled. "It is a testimony to your prowess as a hostess, my beautiful wife," and he kissed her on the cheek.
"It is a testimony to their appetites," she replied, but she smiled as she took her place at the high board with her husband.
Wynne had planned a wonderful final banquet for the wedding guests, and judging by the enthusiasm of her guests as each dish was offered, she had done very well indeed. A dozen barrels of oysters packed in ice and seawater had been transported from the coast for the meal. They were quickly set upon and devoured. Four sides of beef packed in rock salt had been roasted to a turn and were now being carved and placed upon platters. There was a whole ox and two roe deer, as well as several hams, geese, larks, capons stuffed with dried fruit, fat ducks dripping their juices; an enormous roast boar, several large partridge pies with flaky golden crusts, the steam rising from the pastry vents rich with the scent of red wine and herbs; and a cauldron of rabbit stew flavored with carrots and shallots. There were a dozen legs of baby lamb rubbed with garlic and rosemary.
There was trout broiled in butter, lemon, and dill; salmon steamed in seawater and sprinkled with parsley; flaked cod prepared in a sauce of cream and sweet wines; prawns and mussels boiled with fennel. New lettuce had been steamed with white wine. There were bowls of tiny green peas and little boiled beets. There was fine white bread in abundance, sweet butter, soft Brie from Normandy, and several wheels of Gwer-nach's Gold. There were beer and ale, and wines both red and white.
A cake had been baked and decorated with little figures and fruits of marzipan. There were several large tarts made of dried fruits and precious spices. Both violets and rosebuds had been candied and were served with tiny sugared wafers. There were bowls of small strawberries, although Wynne could not imagine where they had been found after the generous serving of the little fruits offered earlier in the day at their picnic.
The Irish minstrels entertained them with wonderful ballads of love and songs of manly feats. There were morris dancers, and a funny little bit of a wizened man with a troupe of dogs that danced and jumped through hoops on their master's command. The guests ate until there was no more food, and drank until they could hold no more. Madoc and Wynne quietly excused themselves, for no one could leave until they did, and Wynne could see that both her grandmother and Nesta were weary. As for little Mair, she had fallen asleep in her chair, and Dewi, for all his bluster, was nodding off as well. Einion gathered up both children and took them from the hall.
Megan undressed her mistress and was dismissed. Wynne sat upon her bed brushing her long hair with slow even strokes as Madoc entered the chamber. Turning, she looked up and smiled at him. " 'Twas a fine day, my lord, but I am happy to have it over and done with."
He took her brush from her and, kneeling down, began to stroke her hair with it. "My wife," he said softly. "My beautiful wife. God, dearling! I cannot believe you are really mine!" He buried his face in dark scented hair and inhaled its subtle fragrance.
A lovely shiver ran up her spine, and Wynne twisted about to face her husband. Taking his face in her hands, she touched his lips with hers. "Aye," she murmured against his mouth. "I am yours, Madoc, but then so too are you mine, and I love you." Her lips softened and she kissed him passionately, her tongue swirling about his mouth, teasing and taunting his own tongue to do battle. Her hands left his face and tangled themselves in his own thick, dark hair. The hairbrush dropped from his hand, clattering to the floor.
Madoc pushed his face into the hollow between her sweet young breasts. He felt the steady beat of her heart beneath his lips as he pressed kisses on her soft skin. His hands, sliding beneath the mantle of her hair, moved down until they were encircling her small waist. Wynne arched her body, and Madoc's mouth found the sentient little nipple of a breast. Slowly he suckled on the tender flesh, drawing forth the sweetness first from one nipple and then the other until she began to moan softly in his embrace.
His tongue tormented her sensitive nipples, flicking swiftly back and forth as she threaded her fingers through his hair with growing urgency. His lips moved away from her now-swollen breasts and down her taut torso. Wynne shivered again, and her smooth skin was instantly embellished with a tapestry of tiny prickles. She squirmed and a small giggle escaped her.
"That tickles, Madoc!" she protested. She was beginning to feel hot with her desire for him.
"And we both know how ticklish you are," he responded, looking at her with a deceptively bland stare.
He reached for her, but Wynne was quicker and scrambled across their great bed. "Hah, my lord!" she mocked him. "You must be faster than that to catch me!"
He dove at her, and she squealed in sham terror as he grabbed out to imprison her. Together they rolled about their marriage bed like two young puppies, his fingers tickling her and her fingers tickling him. Finally weak with laughter, Madoc and Wynne collapsed side by side, wheezing and gasping for breath. When at last she felt the strength returning into her limbs, Wynne took the initiative, surprising Madoc by straddling him. Giving him a seductive smile, she tightened her thighs about his torso. Reaching up, she began to fondle her breasts, her tongue running swiftly over her lips. She looked down, sloe-eyed, into his face.