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crossed in front of him. He leaned casually against the weather-beaten building, observing everything around him with narrowed eyes, as if the sun was too bright for them. A prickle of apprehension made her skin goose bump. “Do you know him?” she whispered, drawing abreast of him.
    Angelet peered at the stranger from under lowered eyelids. “I have no idea. Someone here for the revelry.” Did she shudder slightly even though the day had become overly warm? “Forget him.”
    They strolled back out into the sunshine, leaving the shadows and the mysterious man behind. Angelet tugged on her arm, drawing her forward.
    Celestine glanced over her shoulder but the man was no longer there. She dismissed her agitation as jumping to an unwarranted conclusion.
    Villagers in multi-colored clothing, swarmed about them and the smell of roasting meat drifted along reminding Celestine she hadn’t broken her fast yet. Little girls and older women alike wore wreaths of entwined flowers and vines like diadems on their heads.
    “Haven’t you forgotten something?” asked a young girl.
    Well-developed breasts pressed against her white tunic.
    “Mayhap,” Angelet replied with a small smile, “but I can’t imagine what it is.”
    The girl held out a wreath of spring flowers. “You must wear this to get the blessing of the goddess.”
    “That I will gladly do,” the maid replied, leaning forward to allow the girl to rest the wreath on her head. “Might you have another one for my friend?”
    Celestine’s eyes rested on the girl, a budding beauty a man would snap up before long. Silently, she accepted the wreath watching the girl’s eyes widen. “Milady,” she said only a little above a whisper before bobbing a hasty curtsey. She vanished into the thickening crowd.
    “I thought you said no one would recognize me,” Celestine admonished Angelet.
    “I’m sure she didn’t. All who come into contact with you are in awe of your beauty and your queenly bearing. There’s nothing wrong with that. Hurry or we’ll miss our spots at the Maypole.”
    “You mean I have to dance?” Celestine squawked. Her legs were already shaking in anticipation of the coming evening. Surely, she would fall on her face and make a fool of herself.
    “There’s nothing to it. Really.” Angelet stopped so suddenly, Celestine collided with her shoulders and back. “And look at that phallus. Whew!”
    Celestine frowned. “Phallus? What does that mean? Is it something about me having to dance and bare my ass in front of all these people?”
    Angelet pursed her lips in mock dismay and apparent amusement and shook her head from side to side. “After all I’ve taught you and how you remain ignorant of the goddess and her ways.”
    “And how I remain ignorant of the words you choose,” Celestine protested. Her education had been sparse, concentrating on the duties a lady of a castle performed such as making herb poultices, ensuring all had warm clothes for the winter, among many other tasks.
    “A phallus is another word for a representation of a man’s cock. You know that part of his body he pleasures a woman with? That hard, throbbing part?”
    She couldn’t help herself. Celestine’s nipples hardened at the notion a man would not only touch them but do other things.
    “My dear lady,” Angelet said, her eyebrows knitting together. “I set up a date for you and now you’ve got one.”
    “With a phallus?” No matter how Celestine searched her memory, she had no idea what a phallus was. And now she’d been set up with one and all this time she had thought, Angelet had meant she would have the opportunity to sleep with a man made of flesh and blood. Disappointment seared through her like a sharp knife.
    The maid gave her a blank look before she bent over, burst into laughter, and slapped her thighs. Between gales of laughter, she managed, “I didn’t mean I set up a date with a real man. Right now you’re stuck with the Maypole.”
    Her words