Page 88 of Once upon a Summer Night

“Then perhaps you’ll instead allow me the pleasure of your company while young Aidan here heads over to the blacksmith.” Colin leaned around Ellie. “Go on, lad, your new sword is ready.”

“Aye!” Aidan exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air. “Sire had it commissioned for my birthday last. Thank you for the news, Cousin!”

“Wield it well,” Colin replied gravely; with a nod, Aidan tore off through the crowd.

Ellie forcibly relaxed her now-tense shoulders. They’d been avoiding each other since the night he kissed her, and according to Gwen, who got her information from Reilly, Colin had thus far been unsuccessful at his attempts to leave the Middle Ages. Reilly assured Gwen that they weren’t stuck, and that he could take them home whenever they wanted, but both Ellie and Gwen really wanted to see the faire. Reilly agreed that if Colin couldn’t get them home, he would do so.

But he was insistent that Colin be the one to return them, if it were at all possible.

Gwen was reassured, but Ellie had her doubts. If Colin couldn’t get back, after all his claims of past time traveling, what made Reilly thinkhecould do so?

Gwen had no answer for her, and Ellie had no plans to seek Colin out for his take on the situation, so she resolved to enjoy the time she had in the castle. She also promised herself that she would ignore the crushing pain that appeared in her chest every time she caught sight of Colin.

Easier said than done.

Claire sighed as she realized Colin took Aidan’s place astheir head guard, but it lacked any annoyance. “Tell me again, Lady Gwendolyn, how it is when a woman is free to walk about on her own, without a guard of twenty men, and a nanny in charge?”

As Gwen launched into a description of all the cool things she’d done over the years—by herself—Ellie patted Colin’s arm. “I doubt that nanny comment was about you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Claire’s razor tongue has held many men at bay, but I’ve heard much worse. She most definitely meant to call me a nanny.”

Ellie checked her smile and instead let her eyes drift over the goods in the stalls they passed. The crowd became thicker as they neared the center of the faire. Colin carved out a pathway for them and led them to the edge of the makeshift ring.

The sounds of the medieval band warming up were unlike any Ellie had heard before. The harpist was plucking at the strings and adjusting their tautness. Another musician was testing the sound of his pipes, which reminded Ellie of Peter Pan’s panpipe, though much bigger than the one she remembered from the animated movie. The fiddler drew his bow across the strings, eliciting a sweet chord, and another man strummed a lute.

“What is that?” Claire wondered breathlessly, as another note from the lute filtered through the air.

Colin watched the man play a few notes. “It’s called a lute. It’s been brought over from England.” In a low voice to Ellie, he added, “Lutes are very new here. In fact, there’s only a couple in all of Ireland at the moment. Most people here have never seen one.”

Gwen clasped arms with Ellie and beamed. “This is so unbelievable. We’re at a faire, Ellie. A real one, not the ones where we dress up and pretend. A real one! I don’t think I’ll ever be able to attend a Ren Faire ever again!”

Ellie patted her arm sympathetically. “I’m sure you will,Gwennie. Perhaps Claire will let you keep a gown or two for just such an occasion.”

“A girl can dream.”

The music started without warning, and Ellie became swept up in the spectacle before her. Brianagh stepped into the ring, then began to dance a set of complicated steps that brought her forward, then back, then forward again. Her upper body and arms remained still, and her fists held the fabric of her dress up from the ground so her slippered feet were visible. The steps were quick, almost what Ellie imagined a jig to look like, and the crowd watched in a hushed, expectant silence.

The music swelled, then Nioclas joined her, matching her footwork with his own. His booted feet made muted thuds on the dirt, keeping time with the lilting melody of the musicians. Their feet became somehow even faster as the fiddler began a rapid-fire solo.

“Oh my God,” Gwen whispered, awed. “They’re Irish step dancing!”

Colin laughed. “Yes!” His voice was hushed as he added, “This is called a carole. Once this dance is complete, other dancers will join the laird and lady, and begin a song. Once they do, we will dance around them in a large circle. We’re to call back the next line in the song, and so it’ll go, until they light the bonfire.”

After another moment of frenetic, perfectly timed footwork, the music halted. Bri and Nioclas took their bows, then fifteen dancers joined them.

“Why so many?” Ellie whispered, her eyes never leaving them as they lined up in three rows.

“Seventeen is a mystical number,” Claire answered, her arm linked through Gwen’s. “Irish legends say that magic happens either seventeen days or seventeen years after an event celebrating the gods.”

“Are we celebrating the gods?”

Claire shrugged. “Depends on who you ask. Many in our village practice the Old Ways. But there are many clansmen who claim Christianity, too. I think of this as a blend of those two ways of life.”

The music started up again, the harp note floating out to a reverent crowd. As one, the dancers moved forward, then sang a line in Gaelic.

The crowd sang a line back, and, clasping hands, danced as one to the left until the line was finished.

When the people stopped moving, the dancers repeated their dance, singing another line, and this time, the people danced to the right as they sang the answer back. On it went, until Ellie was dizzy and the people were gasping with laughter and flushed with joy. Then, someone brought a torch to Nioclas, and he took it, holding it high above his head.

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