The kitchen was bustling, and smelled delectable, but Hortense de Breva was not hungry. Wafting smells of fresh baked focaccia, slow-roasted and seasoned meats, and perfectly balanced soups tugged at her nose, but nerves had twisted the Vicomtess' stomach to rebellion.
True, the plan thus far had gone flawlessly; onion and ragweed extract had kept her sobs very real as she lied about the Vicomte's demise. Not a single guard had objected to throwing Seneschal Guillaume into the dungeon as she ranted about his indisputable responsibility, and he fecklessly denied even knowledge of the deaths. Cheers had filled the hall when she bravely and tearfully announced that she bore the Vicomte's heir within her, and boldly proclaimed that he would want the celebration of his son to outweigh the mourning of his death. Servant, cook, tailor, and soldier alike were to dine as nobles in the Great Hall, while Lady Sama's own caterers served the same food and wine to everyone.
Still, if the people of the castle felt less repressed than Hortense did, if the enchanted wine only made them rowdy and not randy, if she were seen alone as a pervert or freak, her life was all but forfeit. She would be imprisoned until her husband returned and prove her a liar, grasping for power. She knew in her heart that the freedom she had found was a bounty beyond measure, but would those who served at her pleasure see it the same?
Soon, perhaps too soon for Hortense' nervous heart, the tables were set, the lamps lit, and the guests taking their seats. It was the largest feast Breva had hosted Since Duke Voutange had visited three years prior, though the rank of the attendees now held nothing on the previous august personages. Her personal handmaiden, Lisette, sat on her right, looking even more nervous than Hortense felt. The head servant, a fit middle aged man named Guy, seemed to be looking back and forth between the women who normally served the wine, as though desperately biting his tongue to avoid sending them chasing after hors d'oeuvres, and to avoid correcting the borrowed servants, who were, regardless, performing perfectly. The soldiers, strategically placed between and around the serving women, rather than as a block, seemed particularly tight lipped, as though afraid one crude joke might slip out and get them ejected from the best meal they were likely to ever have.
The ladies of Hortense', or possibly Vivienne's, conspiracy, had also scattered themselves across the tables. Ostensibly this was to show unity of class in this time of bonding. In actuality they hoped to steer any pockets of prudishness or resistance to the party to come. Hortense made eye contact with Aurelie and Aloise, who both winked at her, and stood to toast, as the room fell silent.
"We gather today to celebrate the most human of experiences, death and life. Two things we all, regardless of class, station, or occupation, have in common. I have seated you all next to those you might not normally speak to as equals, or not speak to at all, and beg you to speak to them tonight as you would to your closest friend. No "Master," no "honor," no "Lord," or "Lady." First names and familiarity, please. I recognize that these deeply ingrained habits might be hard to break, and to that end we have opened an enormous stockpile of my favorite wine. Please drink it all and have a night you won't forget."
With a smile, Hortense drained her glass, and following the conspiracy's example, the rest of the hall did too. Servants circled keeping glasses topped up, as the strong farmer next to the Vicomtess, (One she had seen in the dragon's tear, perhaps,) raved about the quality of the spices. Soldiers began joking, and the mood eased.
As dinner gave way to desert, the wine continued, and Hortense signaled Sama's musicians to shift from the stuffy formal music of the court to the catchy dance music of the village inns. Sama herself began the impropriety by getting up to dance on a table, either tipsy or feigning it well, and the initial dark murmurs of disapproval dissipated with Hortense's gay smile. Far from scolding the merchant wife, she began clapping to the rhythm of the drums, and took another swig.
Her nerves began to unknot, both an effect of the wine, and an effect of the atmosphere, as dirty jokes and servant girl smiles began to filter into the room. Vivienne led the way with a crude tale about a miller's daughter and a wayward priest, while Aloise flirted outrageously with the actual miller's daughter, who blushed furiously and tried to press out the wrinkles in her skirts. As couples began dancing in earnest, dessert was replaced with many casks of the strange wine, and Sma's servants quietly left the hall. Hortense pretended to be trying to hide in the corner of the hall, but made sure as many eyes were on her as possible when she shyly kissed Guy.
Whispers bounced across the hall, beginning scandalized, but shifting to scurrilous, and then to sultry as no fights broke out. Hortense felt a moment of panic when a red-bearded soldier named Emile kissed Lady Sama; not because of Lady Sama's enthusiasm, which was genuine, but because of the soldier's girlfriend, who left the hall in an angry huff. The exodus did not seem to shock the party to prudence, however, and Hortense relaxed again.
One of the serving girls, Anais, was known for being more of a flirt than most, and a real beauty to boot. Thick black hair that may have come once from the same province as Lady Sama was accompanied by baby blue eyes, and breasts that men throughout the castle on had commented whenever they thought only their friends were listening. She had never outright sent a man away, but remained had single and, as far as anyone knew, uncoupled, while every man who thought he had a shot made passes at her.
Tonight Anais was enjoying the attention. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes still bright and awake, not dulled as they would be by normal alcohol. She and those around her were re-creating a childhood peasant dance, in which the dancers tangled themselves in each other arms. Each time she tangled with another male, both took full advantage, pressing bodies together, and occasionally lips. It wasn't long before her dress "accidentally" got tangled in someone's brooch, and she fumbled to the ground, breasts flying free of her low cut party dress. She blushed and covered herself, but the rough soldiers and farmers in the crowd cheered, and she took a little bow before returning pointed nipples to captivity.
Soon noble, soldier, and servant alike had joined in the tangle dance, and hands were taking liberties not dreamed of in more normal times. Hortense herself was groped three times, and one particularly brave young man took to flipping women upside down when they came his way, so that he could look up their skirts. When no one slapped him, a gaggle of imitators began copying his moves across the dance floor. Hortense made sure to spread her legs wide when she was flipped, and the young smith seemed star struck seeing his sovereign's snatch. For fairness sake, she made sure the others had a chance to flip her as well.
As the tangle dance continued, new dance patterns began to be added to the mix. Women adjusted their skirts in their belts to give their legs more breathing room, and before long the men had replaced the traditional back to back twirl with a dexterity game of sliding beneath the upraised skirts. Laughter filled the hall as women were lifted upon shoulders and began trying to unfasten each other's bodices while their mounts steered blindly from beneath their shifts. Lisette, well practiced at the removal of clothing, proclaimed herself champion at this sport after exposing both Anais, and a young lute player named Brielle two versus one. Her defeated opponents got revenge, however, when she was distracted kissing the man she had been riding. One unfastened her belt and the other pulled her skirts up, retying the belt at head level and trapping her arms for nearly a minute before taking pity on their quarry and freeing her to cover her bare ass. Hortense's confidence in the plan surged yet again when Lisette only smiled with embarrassment and covered herself, rather than fleeing the town in shame as she might have, had this happened on another night.
The strange wine kept flowing, as the usual dizziness and nausea from over indulgence stayed away, and the hours grew later. Sama cornered Emile by the door and reached brazenly into his pants, an act quickly copied by Anais, once she confirmed the tacit approval of the happy Hortense. Vivienne allowed one of the dancers to crawl under her skirt, but then held him there, continuing to tell stories as though nothing were unusual, but with a flush to her cheeks and some suspicious pauses for breath.
