~~~Warning: There's a few scary or creepy stories in this chapter~~~

At last people began pushing away plates of food still untasted, and footmen started to gather up all the glasses, dishes, cutlery, and tureens on huge trays. Bernard dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood up. 

"Just a few announcements," he said in a loud voice. "As you know, playing cards or dice for money is not permitted at Camden Palace under normal circumstances."

Eden saw Bernard and Pip exchange wry looks.

"However as a special concession, we allow gaming over Yuletide, and card tables will be set up in the alcove at the back of the Great Hall each evening. That is the only time and place gaming is permitted, and I must ask you to wager no more than three silver coins each time."

Pip stood up and gave the crowd a bright smile. "Charades are in the gallery on the left hand side. There's plenty of room up there, so don't be shy! And you're welcome to stay here in the warmth until after supper."

Pip's comment made Eden realise that after more than an hour since the fire was lit, the Great Hall had indeed become very warm. She had long ago shrugged Roderick's jacket off, and been sitting on it to save it from sliding onto the floor.

A dark-haired girl slipped into the room, wearing a garment of red silk patterned with silver thread that was something like a gown and something like a cloak without being either. It managed to display her figure to perfection, while protecting her modesty in its folds.

It was only when the girl came over to Lucy and Eden, her face lit up with a smile, that Eden realised it was Nalini.

"Good Yule!" she said happily. "I saw the fire being lit earlier. You did a wonderful job, miss. Have a lovely evening, both of you." She went on her way after they returned her good wishes.

"What is that shawl thing she's wearing?" Eden whispered to Lucy.

"It's called a saree, from India," Lucy whispered back. "It looks pretty, doesn't it?"

"Nalini does look very pretty," Eden agreed.

"Oh well, upper housemaids are always good-looking," Lucy said. "Mummy engages them."

There was a rumbling and rustling around the Great Hall, as people moved or stood in small groups, as if conferring on how to spend the rest of the evening. Eden wondered if she and Lucy would have to stay with the nurses, or with her father. Meriadoc had taken Pip's advice, and was chatting to a gentleman and lady who were sitting on his other side.

"Pardon me, mesdames," said a man with a French accent. "I was wondering whether my friend and I might request the company of two such charming ladies as yourselves for a game of cards?"

He was short and stocky with a ruddy face and reddish brown hair around a bald spot, very dapper in a forest green suit. 

He gave a neat bow towards Nurse Melia, saying, "I am Monsieur Leroux, the head cook, and not at all an old grump, as that scamp said. And this is my colleague, the wine butler, Mr Crawley." 

The wine butler was tall, thin and dark, with a lugubrious face. He wore a claret red suit in deference to the season, but was obviously suited to black clothing.    

Nurse Melia blushed and stammered slightly as she replied, "Oh, well ...that's very kind of you ... but ... I'm not sure ... May? Can we ...?" 

Why, it almost sounded as if Nurse Melia was asking permission to go with the man, Eden thought in shocked disapproval.

"What game do you play?" Nurse May demanded crisply.

"Ah ... vingt-un ... how do you call it?" He looked to his friend for help.

"Ventiuno," said Mr Crawley in a deep, sombre voice. 

"Stakes?" asked Nurse May keenly.

"Oh, no more than a silver coin per hand," Monsieur Leroux said. "Little, little money. Pfft, nothing." He made a gesture to signify how small an amount he meant. 

"Make it three," Nurse May said, standing up. "I'll deal first, I carry my own cards. I hope your hands are clean. Come on, Melia."

"I don't know the rules," Melia said helplessly.

"Do not worry, madame. I myself shall teach you all the subtle nuances of the art of card play," promised Monsieur Leroux, taking her arm.

"First to twenty-one wins. Aces are high. Keep your hands to yourself. Now you know all the rules," Nurse May said. 

She called this over her shoulder as she made a determined beeline for the card area, Mr Crawley following morosely in her wake.

"I hope Nurse Melia will be alright," Eden said with a frown. "The only card games she's played are Patience and Beggar-My-Neighbour. I don't want her to be cheated of her money."

"Don't worry, Nurse May will rook them for everything they have," Lucy assured her. "Once we had a holiday at the seaside, where they allow gaming. By the time we went home, Nurse May had bought herself a mink wrap with her winnings."

Gradually the crowd in the Great Hall was breaking off and forming separate groups. Gamesters to the back, young people to play charades in the gallery – Eden could see Nalini talking animatedly to an elegant blonde girl up there, using her hands to illustrate her point.

Old people were taking chairs to sit around the fireplace, to be as warm as possible, while middle-aged people were content to remain chatting around the table, waiting for fresh cups of tea and coffee to be brought out. Families with frail relatives and small children (this included the Hetheringtons) had already left to put them to bed.

"Shall we go upstairs?" asked Eden, as nearly everyone their age seemed to be in the gallery by now.

"Oh no. You hear the best stories around the fire!" said Lucy enthusiastically. "Come on, it's far more fun than boring charades."

Eden didn't think much of this idea, and glanced at her father, hoping he might put in a protest on her behalf. However, he now seemed to have half the table roaring with laughter at an anecdote of the time his boat capsized in the lake, and all his clothes were lost as he swam back to shore.

Eden heard a woman say loudly, "Rafe, darling! Do come and listen to Merry - he's so amusing!" 

Lucy took Eden's hand and tugged her over to the fire, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. Despite herself, Eden couldn't help being charmed by how excited Lucy was at the thought of being told a story. They squeezed themselves in between two old ladies who sat over their knitting, and received a nod of acknowledgement from them. Lucy kept holding Eden's hand.

"To join our circle, you must first answer a riddle, young maidens," said an old man in a red velvet coat who seemed to have elected himself leader.

"A riddle! How fun," said Lucy. "Don't make it too hard, will you?"

"I saw a silver coin beaming, in a pool of water gleaming," said the man. "But no matter how bright it shone, a fortnight later it had gone."

Lucy thought it over, rubbing her forehead, then exclaimed, "Oh, I think I know! The full moon was reflected on the surface of the water, and two weeks later it had shrunk away to nothing."

"You have a rare skill for riddles, Miss Lucy," said an old man with wild white hair and a cracked voice, sitting closest to the fire. "Now it is your turn, young maiden."

"Me?" said Eden in ungrammatical alarm. "Oh, I'm not good at riddles."

"Just do your best, dear," advised one of the knitting ladies.

" I battle both wind and water, I seek earth swallowed by waves," the cracked voice began. "I am exiled from my homeland, but stand resolute, to protect those who travel from it. What am I?"   

Eden racked her brains. The riddle sounded as if it was describing an outcast warrior, but she was sure it was really about something quite different. And why would they seek earth under the waves to protect travellers? She lowered her head in thought. 

Lucy squeezed her hand sympathetically. Her hand felt warm and comforting, as if Eden was being held firm and supported. She felt as secure as if she was ... Lucy's hand was like ... 

"An anchor," Eden said confidently, raising her head.   

"Eden's riddle was much more difficult than mine," Lucy said. "She should ask you one now."

"I don't know many riddles," Eden said slowly, "but here is one my nurse taught me. What can be wasted foolishly, or wisely spent, that we all try to save, yet can never be lent?"   

There were many wrong guesses, until the old lady next to Eden said, "I believe the answer might be Time. Is that correct, miss?" 

As Eden confirmed it was, the man in the red velvet coat said, "Well done, Miss Eden. You have proven yourself a worthy member of our little company." 

After this excitement, the old people settled down to begin the stories that Lucy was so eager for. At first the conversation was of that, "Did you hear tell of young Mr Bagshaw's terrible trouble?" variety, but once the footmen had brought them all a cup of tea, and the lights were turned down low, it soon slipped into reminisces of the palace, many years before.

Nearly every story seemed to begin, "I remember back in the days of King Gerald, ah we'll never see their like again." Acts of valour in far off battles; the glacial beauty of King Peter's mother, Sophia; long ago parties and dances that remained bright in their memories. The past lived again, the dead spoke, old loves bloomed like ashes of roses rising from the flames.

"D'ye hark at the wind howling down the chimney?" said the old man with the wild white hair, lifting a hand to his ear. "That's a sure sign we shall have snow."

"Old Perce is at it again," muttered the man in the red velvet coat, with a wink at Lucy and Eden.

"It would be lovely to have snow, Mr Percy, I hope you're right," Lucy said warmly. 

"Not just snow, neither, " Percy said forebodingly, "for when the north wind blows at Yuletide, it means the Wild Hunt is on the move. You may hear the hunting horn blowing in storms and gales, and on the coldest, darkest nights of the year, you may see the Wild Hunt itself."

There were some sceptical or even mocking remarks, but Percy insisted, "Aye, I have seen it with my own eyes. All on black steeds with black hounds at their heels, galloping through the woods with fierce cries. But no hoof touched the ground or left marks in the snow." 

"But what is the Wild Hunt, exactly?" Eden asked, frowning in perplexity. 

"Some say it is the souls of the dead, others that it is spirits of the air and earth," Percy rasped out. "But it is always led by Wodan, the Master of Yule. At this season does the veil between the living and the dead become thinner, so that we may see things which are usually hidden from our eyes."

"You can't seriously believe in ghosts?" Eden said doubtfully.

However, not only Percy was a believer, as there were several voices of assent, and the old lady next to Lucy said, "Why, there are ghosts haunting this very palace."

"Oh do tell us about them," pleaded Lucy. "Every other year, Nurse sent me to bed before the ghost stories began".  

 According to the tales they were told, Camden Palace was positively thick with the dear departed. The spirit of a butler who had died two centuries ago liked to wander around the Great Hall at night. Twin boys, two little princes who had died of a fever long ago, could be heard babbling away to each other in the room that had once been their nursery. 

King Gerald's old nurse, Dame Ada Dean, refused to take her eternal rest, but remained busy at her spinning wheel, the noise of it so loud that nobody could sleep in that part of the palace, or they would be kept awake by it. King Peter's equerry, Sir Octavian Henbane, had cut his own throat in the library upon discovering his wife Eveline had been untrue, and sensitive people could feel a strange chill in the room ever after. 

"And there's the White Lady," the man in the red velvet coat added. "Nobody knows who she was, but she haunts the stairs leading to the South Tower."

"That's the tower where my bedroom is!" Lucy gasped, one hand over her mouth.

"Have you ever seen her?" Eden demanded severely of the red-coated man, angry with him for scaring Lucy.

"No, and I never will," the red coat man said with good humour. "Only young maidens are pure enough to see her."

"Well, I think it's all stuff and nonsense," Eden said stoutly. "Just stories made up to frighten people." She held Lucy's hand tightly.

"I did see the White Lady once, a very long time ago," said an old lady quietly.

"It would have to be a long time ago," said the red coat man with a ribald laugh.  

"She was very beautiful, but very sad. At least, I could feel she was very sad," the old lady went on musingly. "I think she must have died of a broken heart. Some people say her white dress is a wedding gown she never got to wear."

 "Aye, it is love and pain which brings them back to us," said Percy. "Oft have I seen my own Valeria through the window on dark nights, caught up in the arms of the north wind. She is grown young and lovely again, but so pale, and holds out her hands to me, as if begging me to join her."

Old Percy's voice had grown more cracked than ever, and his eyes stared up at the ceiling as if seeing visions there. Eden shivered. It should have been a ludicrous thought - an old man named Percy, seeing his dead wife Valeria wafting outside the window! However, she didn't want to laugh; it wasn't comical, but pitiful and strange and tragic. 

The old lady next to Eden who had guessed her riddle turned to her sharply. 

"Never mind him, he is old and his wits are starting to wander," she said in a matter of fact way. "You two girls get upstairs to bed. Go now." She actually gave Eden a little push to urge her on.

Yes, upstairs to bed! thought Eden bitterly. Up the stairs of the South Tower, on a dark night of Yuletide while a north wind blew. Mind you don't bump into the White Lady as you turn the corner!

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

Eden turned over in bed angrily, and thumped her pillow for good measure. The wind had never kept her awake before, but now she strained her ears listening for the sounds of hunting horns and galloping hooves. At least they wouldn't be able to see Valeria floating around - Eden had made sure to close the heavy curtains tightly. 

She let out an exasperated sigh as she turned over again. No wonder Lucy was so fanciful, if this was the sort of the thing permitted at Camden Palace! Now Lucy would imagine every shadow on the stairs was the White Lady, and every noise at night a ghost using a spinning wheel.  

"Eden, are you still awake?" came a tremulous voice from the next bed.

"Yes. Are you alright, Lucy?"

"I know you'll think I'm having the blistering fantods or something, but I feel all shaky," Lucy confessed. "Will you stay in bed with me until I fall asleep?"

A moment later there was the sound of Eden sliding between the sheets, and then her arms were around Lucy in a comforting embrace. 

"Don't worry about those silly stories, eth caru, dear heart," she said soothingly. "Nothing can hurt you here, and they should never have told you about such things as wild hunts and white ladies."

"Oh I don't mind so much about them," Lucy said, snuggling into Eden. "They're quite interesting, and I should like to be able to say I once saw a ghost in the tower when I was a pure young maiden."

"Well I don't like," said Eden, "and if being pure makes one see ghosts, I'd like to get rid of my purity as soon as possible!"

"The only one that really bothers me is the man who killed himself in the library," Lucy said in a low voice. "That's not something from centuries ago, that's my own father's equerry, and I never knew."

"Your father wouldn't want you to know," Eden said. "He wouldn't want you to be frightened and upset over it."

"I know," said Lucy tearfully, "but I've spent so much time in the library. I loved reading there and spending all day curled up reading book after book. Now it's a place of death and horror."

"Did you ever feel any strange chills in there?"

"No, never. But I probably will now," Lucy wailed. 

"There you go. That proves it's all just imagination," Eden said. "It was an awful thing that happened, and you should never have found out about it. But the library is just the same as it always was, and you will love it just the same. Well, nearly the same."

"Thank you, Eden. You're always so sensible," Lucy said. "Let's go to the library some time, just us, and read and talk in there for ages, until it feels normal again."

"Whenever you like, but let's go to sleep now, and not think about it any more," Eden said. 

Two girls slept in each other's arms in the South Tower, and if there were any ghosts about, they never heard them.

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LINDENSEA LORE

All Camden celebrated today the wedding of Crown Prince Sebastian of Castile, eldest son of King Hugo and Queen Antoinette, and his bride Princess Sophia of Norway, the second daughter of King Frederick and Queen Louisa. The ceremony took place at the Temple of Isis in Royal Street, followed by a reception in the Grand Ballroom of Camden Palace, at the invitation of King Gerald of Lindensea, younger brother to Crown Prince Sebastian. 

Princess Sophia looked stunning in a shimmering golden gown, while her bridesmaid, her sister Crown Princess Ingrid, wore sky blue. The Kingdom of Lindensea wishes the happy couple a lifetime of love and joy, which even the rain and grey clouds of this early spring day cannot overshadow.

From The Camden Times, 21st of March, 1386 of the Saxon Era