At the Crossing Places by Kevin Crossley-Holland Page A

to do is recognize your birthday eve.”
    This morning, we all had to make our confessions to Haket, and I felt very uneasy, because I’ve been thinking about what I heard and saw on the riverbank and I’m sure Haket is forcing Rowena to do something against her will, maybe even giving him her body. If he is, how can I confess to him? And, anyhow, who does he make his confessions to?
    Shrove Tuesday is a holiday, the first since I came to Holt, and this afternoon many of the people living on the manor gathered in the South Yard. But not Haket, I’m glad to say.
    First Anian and Catrin tied little spurs to two cocks, but I don’t really like watching them stab each other’s eyes and rip each other to pieces. After that, I wrestled with Anian and threw him, although he’s two years older than I am. But then Sayer, the kennelman, threw me, and so did Simon—he’s stronger than he looks. All the same, I know I’m stronger than I was last year.
    â€œArthur!” Rowena called out. “Izzie wants to wrestle with you.”
    Everyone laughed, and Izzie blushed.
    â€œI won’t,” I said. “You’re both stupid.”
    â€œWhat about Rahere?” Alan said in a sneering voice. “You’d like to wrestle with Arthur, wouldn’t you?”
    â€œCertainly not!” said Rahere huffily. “Wrestlers don’t jest!”
    When we met in the hall for supper, Lord Stephen bowed to me. “Will you sit down, sir?” he said.
    Lord Stephen showed me to my place and brought me a little basin of water. He kissed the towel draped over his right forearm, and I washed and dried my hands. Then Lord Stephen served me, and not until I’d eaten the first mouthful of my egg-and-butter pancake was anyone else allowed to start.
    After we’d finished our pancakes and boiled chicken stuffed with garlic and apricots—the last meat and butter we’ll eat until after Easter—Lord Stephen rang his little handbell, and Gubert carried in a wobbling, striped jelly. It had fourteen layers, and each one was a different color.
    â€œGubert!” exclaimed Lord Stephen, and he smiled and opened his hands.
    â€œAh!” sighed Rahere. “The very sight of it…turns my insides to jelly.”
    â€œStrained saffron, my lady,” said Gubert.
    â€œWhich?” asked Lady Judith.
    â€œThe bottom stripe. Then parsley-juice green, and pink rose petals…that violet-blue, that’s sunflower. Egg white…” Gubert explained each stripe until he’d reached the top layer.
    â€œPoppy,” guessed Rowena.
    â€œI know,” said Izzie. “Plum skin.”
    â€œOr blood,” said Lord Stephen.
    â€œSandalwood red,” said Gubert proudly.
    â€œImported from Venice,” Lady Judith announced. “My merchant buys sandalwood and pepper and caraway from Venice.”
    â€œLet Arthur sniff!” Lord Stephen said.
    I leaned over the jelly, and the sweet confusion of scents and spices swirled inside my head.
    â€œArthur’s smelly!” Rahere said quite fondly.
    â€œYou’ll bring home lots of spices from the Holy Land, I hope,” Lady Judith said. “They cost so much here, when you can get them at all. I’ve heard the Saracens even serve their meats with sauces of different colors.”
    After this, everyone shook hands with me and wished me a happy birthday.
    â€œHappy as a clam,” Rahere said, and he opened and snapped his mouth several times. “Well! As happy as you can be with ash on your forehead.”
    â€œYou’ve been here at Holt for six weeks already,” Lord Stephen said. “Now, on Friday I want you to ride over to Gortanore.”
    â€œThis Friday!” I exclaimed.
    â€œI’ve arranged for you to stay for one week.”
    â€œDo I have to, sir?”
    â€œAnd in the meantime,” said Lord Stephen, “I must somehow make do without my excellent