A Mummers' Play Read Free Page B

maiden, foul dragon, or I will kill you.”
    “Direct and to the point,” declared Jack. “Good man!”
    “Come on, dragon,” called Leyland. “What say you to that?”
    “I defy you!” declared the dragon. “This tasty wench is my dinner!” He hauled the maiden from behind him and pretended to eat her arm.
    “Save me, oh sir knight!” the maiden screeched, clutching her wig.
    “An excellent maiden!” called Jack. “A guinea for you, my friend, if your voice don’t break before the end.”
    “Help, help!” screamed the maiden at an even higher pitch, clearly after the reward.
    “Release her!” bellowed St. George.
    “Not on your pipe and drums!” bellowed the dragon.
    “Oh, my head,” groaned Jack’s mother from beside him.
    Jack grinned. “Excellent speeches, my friends, but let’s have some action.”
    Holding his helmet with one hand, St. George advanced, sword first. “Let her go.”
    The dragon clutched the maiden tight. “Go blow yerself!”
    Jack’s mother gasped.
    St. George poked with the sword, but as the maiden now formed a shield, she shrieked, “Stop that!”
    “Sorry, Melicent,” said St. George and tried a poke from the side and made contact.
    “All right, all right!” cried the dragon, flinging the maiden at the saint. “You’re a blinking lunatic with that sword, Georgie!”
    The maiden staggered, tripped on her long skirts, and fell at the saint’s feet. Grinning, St. George put his foot on her and took a victory stance, sword high. “Thus prevail all righteous Englishmen!”
    “Bravo! Bravo!” shouted Jack, applauding. “Thus should every hero vanquish the women who seek to entangle him!”
    As the hall rang with cheers and applause, the maiden pushed away the holy foot and scrambled up, adjusting her costume and flashing Jack a surprisingly angry look. He ignored it and gestured to the servants to come forward with the punch and pies, then went about putting silver sixpences into hands and bowls, always commenting on their excellent costumes and singing.
    The spirit of Christmas did finally seem to be sparking in his soul.
    When he looked for the maiden to give him the promised guinea, however, the man had disappeared. Clearly the poor fellow really had been embarrassed at playing such a part.
    Sad to have bad feelings on Christmas Eve, but Jack held on to his lighter mood. Before the stultifying atmosphere could return, he gathered some of the younger people, including Leyland, and started a game of hide-and-seek. Not only was it wild fun—which had the added benefit of annoying Great-aunt Caroline and his mother—but it gave him a chance after a while to hide in a place where no one would dare to seek.
    When he slipped into his private study, however, he found a strange woman pulling a book off his shelves.
    ***
    Justina hadn’t expected to play such a prominent part in the mummers’ show, but it hadn’t interfered with her plan. She had still managed to slip away and discard her costume to reveal her other one—a gray round gown, some years out of date and faded, worn over a prim white chemisette and under a sagging brown knitted shawl.
    Round wire-rimmed spectacles and a wilting cap completed the appearance of Miss Esme Richardson, genteel young lady of reduced circumstances.
    As she stuffed her Delilah costume into a large Chinese vase, however, Justina seethed at Lucky Jack Beaufort. Not only was the man a heartless traitor and murderer of his companions-in-arms, he was a buffoon and a misogynist! She could still see the glint of his white teeth as he cheered on St. George in his conquest of women.
    How wickedly unfair that he should survive the war to enjoy glory and riches while other better men perished.
    Hurrying along corridors toward his private rooms, she added to his list of sins. No doubt he’d been exploiting his dark curls and sculpted features all his life to use women, to conquer their virtue with not a moment’s thought of the