Page 2 of Christmas Secrets

“Of course,” she said, first bending down and picking up the ruined kissing bough. “I’ll have one of the servants fix this and hang it back up right away.” She scowled at Percival and left the men.

As soon as she walked away, Bedivere stepped closer and spoke in hushed tones. “What the hell is the matter with you? And what has made you so grouchy? I’ve never seen you act like this. What is going on?”

“Me?” Percival blew a puff of air from his mouth and shook his head. “There is nothing wrong with me, Bedivere. After all, I’m not the one acting more like a wench than a man.”

Bedivere’s hand shot out to punch him, but Percival was quick and blocked the blow. He knew his brother well enough to be prepared for his reactions.

“Well, I see you learned something through all your training as a knight.” Bedivere lowered his hand and let out a deep breath. “Why didn’t you go through with being knighted? It is what Father would have wanted.”

Just hearing his brother mention their father stirred the haunting memories in his head once again.

“Mayhap I don’t want to be a knight, after all.”

“What?” Bedivere’s brows arched. “But it is what you’ve always wanted, Percival. You’re so close to becoming one, and only need to go through with the knighting ceremony.”

“Mayhap I’ll be a mercenary instead.”

“God’s eyes! What are you saying?” This spurred Bedivere’s anger.

“What’s wrong with being a mercenary? I hear they make good money.”

Bedivere narrowed his eyes. “It is nearly Christmas, Percival. I don’t know what’s got into you lately, but I want things to go smoothly at my castle during the holiday. I want everyone to be merry. I want men and women to sing and drink and even dance. I want the children to play and laugh. This is what Christmas is all about. Not brooding over something in the past. I don’t want trouble. Do you understand? You need to smile and enjoy the upcoming holiday celebration. Get drunk. Bed a wench or mayhap two.” He motioned with his hands as he spoke. “Stop being so serious and start living a little. Enjoy that you wake up in the morning and that you have a life to live.”

“If I’m alive, why do I feel so dead inside?” asked Percival. “I swear, this is no different than being in Whitmore’s dungeon.”

“Don’t say that! You know it’s not true. Now, just relax, will you?”

“How can I relax when Morag is pestering me to find a wife, and you’re forcing me to participate in events that mean nothing to me. The worst part is that I’m expected to kiss wenches under hanging balls!”

Bedivere chuckled. “Boughs. Kissing boughs is what they are called. And you need to take your ease, little brother. This is just what you need. I mean... how long has it been since you’ve even been with a woman?”

“That has nothing to do with it! I’m just... you just...” Percival shook his head and lowered his gaze to the floor, not finishing his sentence. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Go ahead. Please, speak freely. Let me try to understand you.”

Percival’s head snapped up and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Fine. I will speak freely. You disgust me, Bedivere. You’ve gotten so soft since you married Morag, that you will end up being the laughing stock of all England.”

“What?” Bedivere frowned. “What does that mean?”

“God’s eyes, Brother, our father was once a respected knight. At least you were respected too, even if it was as an assassin! People feared you. You were looked upon much differently then. Look at you now. Now you’re kissing under hanging greenery and babbling senselessly to babies!”

This time, Percival grabbed Bedivere’s wrist when the punch came close to his face. “See what I mean? I never could have warded off one of your punches before. No one could escape your skills of fighting or killing. You were one damned good assassin.

“Don’t ever say that again! It is nothing I am proud of. Do you hear me?” Bedivere spoke through gritted teeth. “That is a part of my past that I don’t ever want my children to hear about. It wasn’t my choice, or did you forget?”

All of a sudden Percival felt shame overwhelm him. He and his family had a horrible time after his father was convicted of plotting to kill the king, and hanged. Bedivere, on the other hand, was truly the one who saved them all from death. He was sure it couldn’t have been easy to kill on command, especially when Bedivere didn’t even know his targets until the last minute.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Bedivere.” Percival pushed Bedivere’s hand away. “If only Father were still alive, mayhap things would be different.”

“He died at Christmastime. Is that what is bothering you?”

“I can’t get the vision out of my head of seeing him swinging from that rope. And the mockery of Whitmore and his men was horrible. How demented of him to decorate the gallows with... with things like this.” Percival raised his hands to include the festive decorations. “Christmastide isn’t something I’ll ever celebrate again. It only reminds me of death and suffering. That’s all it’ll ever be to me.”

“Mayhap you should take a walk and clear your head,” suggested Bedivere. “Don’t let the demons of the past haunt you in such a way that it ends up ruling and ruining your life.”

“I’ll do better than that. I’m going hunting in the forest. I might be gone for a few days, or mayhap even until after Twelfth Night is over.”

Bedivere cocked his head. “You can’t run from yourself.”