For two days she had prepared the cases wardrobe and accoutrements for Lydia's journey to Agincourt which allowed her Lady to be at Cecelia's side in support of Cecelia's's bid to secure William of Edenbridge's release from the hands of the French. Each waking moment, had found Annalette laboring with new instructions from Lydia so that by the appointed hour for departure Annalette found respite from her Lady's constant demands as she left in the rescue vessel departing the shores of Lindisfarne.
That same evening in Lydia's room, Annalette closed the door behind her and went to the devotional of which small case remained untaken. Of this Lydia's handmaiden knew yet said nothing of reminder to include it in Lydia's hasty preparations.
There the case sat forgotten waiting for Annalette's first ever inspection of their contents. Opened it revealed the vials, horned talisman, book and packets Lydia used when her devotions reached the culmination of necessity. These Annalette began to handle as if discovering someone else's secreted treasure. She pried the cork from an opened vial, took the silver thimble and sipped the barest amount of its sweet liquid for herself.
On board the ship carrying Cecelia and her entourage Lydia would fret over its loss to her, furious that her handmaiden Annalette had said nothing of reminder.
The Count of Corofin; County Clare Ireland's appointment through alliances with the Tudors had placed Lydia's family in the Court of Lindisfarne Castle and with it had come Lydia's service to Lady Cecelia on Holy Island on the east coast of England.
In Lydia's homeland on the cliffs of Moher on Galway Bay lived a barren maid: part of her family and Lydia's mother's distant Aunt. The old woman was Druid; Celtic Druid and a 'Cailleach draiodir mna', a witch and conjurer. Upon hearing of their departure for Lindisfarne, this strange Aunt had searched out Lydia's family, separated Lydia from the rest of them for the brief amount of time it took to press to Lydia's hands a small case containing that which this "aunt" thought the youngest Corofin maiden would need while living among the royals of a Noble Court.
Within this case were talismans fetishes lace and potions: potions she claimed (amid stern confidences and warnings) would melt the heart of the most stubborn man. Young Lydia was to save them for the blossom of her maidenhood and use the potion at an opportune moment.
Assured the vials packed safely in a cushioned felts would advance Lydia's purpose when she had come of age and at the time she so chose, she was told to administer a thimble-full to the goblet of an unsuspecting Noble and thereby change him into a heartsick and willing suitor.
There would come a day, she was told, when time would portend nothing else would serve her purpose but this elixir. This advice and gift she presented to the unsuspecting girl under vow of secrecy leaving Lydia with a small wooden case which aroused no suspicions. This case Lydia brought to England and there in her chambers it rested untouched for two years.
One day, urged by her own curiosity, she tasted it herself. When the fever of its effects broke hours later; Lydia swore to never share even one sweet drop of this elixir with any other but her own tongue.
On that special dark night when her nurturing of Cecelia involved breast play at its most intense, Lydia had dismissed her Handmaiden, bolted the door and surveyed the bedchamber. The hearth with its new wood illuminated its lower ceilings, vaulted curtained windows between tapestries.
That night Lydia had cast her eyes on the single most luxurious necessity in her wardrobe: a high bed covered by a large canopy containing its own curtains for warmth and privacy. The elaborate pergola was supported by four heavily hewn posters of oak. Each polished pillar soared upwards from a carved lion's paw encompassing a turned ball on ball shape sweeping tapered above to its top post carved flame finial.
Lydia's bed commanded the room. She would be intimately involved with its structure soon. Unbeknownst to her that involvement would be performed under the unrelenting eyes of her handmaiden.
Annalette had been performing the errands of wood and water that evening. Lydia, on her knees at her devotional, reached as she had so many times before to the small wooden case on the floor beside, opened the lid and removed a vial and silver thimble.
Removing its cork she carefully poured its liquid to full, replaced the vial in its box and brought the liquid to her lips tasting its sweetness again. Swallowing quickly she gazed at the triptych's images opened before her. Her eyes fed on these images of angels beautifully rendered in azure skies. As had become her habit, she studied these erotic renderings as the effects of druid elixir seeped slowly into her being.
Aloft on high hovering on beating wings transfixed with spiritual ecstasy their loveliness was a stunning vision captured by an Italian artist whose meticulous detail transformed the sterile renderings of the church to something vibrantly preserved in classic nakedness. This was the subject matter of her triptych. The angels, many more than necessary, were sensual women done in loving detail. Like sweet Sirens the angelic females of her triptych glorified none but themselves.
The artist had excited her with this tri-fold mural. As she had at each of her "devotionals" Lydia feasted her envious eyes on their detached beauty. They floated in a blue firmament. For Lydia her small open triptych was a window into a different heaven. Glorifying open arms revealing a thinly veiled eroticism the countenances were brimming with sensuality. She sensed no difference between her own souls building rapture and these angels exposing their beauty on high. It was only a picture; but and incredibly sensual one. They beckoned her to a much different body of worship. A feminine entreaty to self-pleasure.
Her worship had lifted Lydia from her knees and took her to the looking glass she kept covered with a shroud. This drape Lydia removed revealing to her own self the full length of her body head to toe.
