10 venison rumps
Bear shanks slow-cooked in beer (with turnips)
Pig ribs in sauerkraut-onion broth
Eels in skyr sauce
Pickled pigs’ feet
Oat-stuffed pike (with turnip)
Trout in garlic butter
Herring pies
Heart and gizzard medley (deer, rabbit, grouse, squirrel)
Shredded cabbage in gelled marrow (with turnip)
Herbed beets
Creamed turnips
Peas with leeks (and turnip)
Boiled onions served in bear gravy
Lentil pottage (with turnip)
Vinegar and smoked pork over endive
Mustard
Pickles
Raspberry-flavored frumenty
Horseradish
Manchet bread
Sourdough rolls
Honey-egg custard
Apple and currant nutmeg tarts
Honey oatcakes
Cream-filled doughnuts (just a few)
Assorted nuts, glazed and salted
Ale and mead (for all)
Wine (for high table only)
Here comes the bride . . . and the devil in disguise . . .
Cnut could almost be happy living here in the past, considering his present mood. Of course, it was the Jól spirit that pervaded his keep as everyone worked to make tonight’s feast and Thorkel and Dyna’s wedding a success. Cnut had even invited all the farmers and villagers to attend.
Of course, first he had to break up the fight between his cook and the lovely Reynilda. Apparently, Reynilda had returned her porridge to the kitchen, complaining that milk and not cream had been used in the making, and the butter had not been freshly churned. When no new bowl had been sent to the hall, Reynilda had gone storming in, demanding her due.
Cnut separated the two of them and motioned for Reynilda to speak first. “All I wanted was my usual morning meal. Cooked oats with honey and cream. Is that too much to ask?” Reynilda’s blue eyes filled with huge crocodile tears as she glanced up at him.
“Hah! I served her majesty the usual porridge what we all eat here. I even put in some milk and butter.”
“The butter was rancid.”
“Was not!” Girda countered. “Methinks ye wouldn’t know bad butter from pig lard.”
“Oh, oh, oh! Didst hear that rudeness, Cnut? You should whip the woman.”
Girda put her hands on her hips, daring him to raise a hand at her.
Not in this lifetime, or any other!
“Where is that other cook? The skinny one who was stealing cloth from your treasure room.”
Unfortunately, Andrea chose that moment to enter the kitchen. While she might refer to herself as skinny, being described thus by a woman she did not admire clearly did not sit well with her. Before she could speak her mind, Cnut interjected, “Wouldst care to take a walk, Reynilda? The snow has stopped, and it’s beautiful outside. Mayhap the fresh air will heighten your appetite, and by the time we return, porridge to your satisfaction will be prepared.”
“Oh, that would be nice,” she cooed, and went off to gather her cloak.
Meanwhile, he glared at both Girda and Andrea. “Is it asking too much for you to prepare a special bowl for her?”
“I have too much ta do preparing fer tonight’s feast,” Girda said stubbornly.
“I’ll do it,” Andrea offered.
Really? He hoped she wouldn’t spit in it. But then, he really didn’t care.
At that moment, Thorkel came in, encouraging him to go out for the yule log, or yule tree, or whatever you wanted to call it. So he and six men, including Thorkel, went out with axes. And took Reynilda with them for the walk, and what a mistake that was! She did nothing but complain. Or offer him false compliments.
“My boots are getting wet.”
“Cnut, I can’t get over how handsome you look.”
“It’s so cold.”
“Cnut, you are so good at picking out yule logs. I never would have chosen those.”
“How far are we going? My legs are getting tired. Can I lean on you?”
“How strong you are in wielding an axe, Cnut. I warrant you are just as capable at lopping off enemy heads.”
“Do you think I can break fast when we return to the keep? My stomach is rumbling with hunger.”
“You could pick any wife you wanted now, Cnut. Best you get rid of that Andrea woman first, though. Her lack of comeliness makes you look as if you have no choice.”
“Why do we not ride horses? Isn’t there a sleigh we could hook up to the horses? Oh. Do we have to go into the forest where the horses cannot go? Why not go down in the village and take some of their logs? Cotters have no need of yule celebrations, especially during a famine. You have invited them to tonight’s feast? Why?”
“What a generous man you are, Cnut! How admirable!”
Twice, she’d picked mistletoe off an oak tree and held it over her head for Cnut to kiss her. He did, once on the cheek, and once on her mouth when she turned quickly. The overpowering scent of lemon almost made him gag.