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It was madness, and as the beer jug made one round after another through the circle, Trevor
furthermore noted that the young men seemed to be getting far drunker than he might have predicted.
Swallows of beer, spaced several minutes apart, should not bring about the swift inebriation that he
was witnessing before him now. Perhaps it was just that they were all underfed. With no food in the
belly to impede its progress, he supposed even a mouthful of homegrown spirits could reach the brain
within minutes. Anne did not participate in the passing of the jug, nor did Dorinda, although two of
the other female colonists were joining the men in their debauchery, their shrill giggles piercing the
night air. Rayley also drank, and freely, evidently as part of his efforts to fit in with the group and
preserve his disguise.
As the darkness grew, LaRusse banged on the bottom of a kettle to get everyone’s attention, and then
launched into a long and winding speech about the solstice, and druids, and priests of the forests and
how they would have none of that dreadful man-made Christianity here at Hever, none of that
nonsense with virgins and stars and mangers, no, by God, they would not. It was the pagan
celebrations for them, he said, which set up a ruffled roar of agreement among his drunken flock. And
then, to cap off his pledge, he shucked his tapestry wrap and ran bare-breasted around the fire,
quickly joined by a handful of the other men, and with this the mood of the celebrants became even
more fevered and bizarre. The fire was so diminished by neglect that Trevor had to strain to follow
the action, but he could have sworn at one point the he saw a man dancing with a sheep.
“They are all quite preoccupied,” said Rayley, who had come up beside him unnoticed. “It is a good
time to go.”
“Was there anything wrong with the beer?”
“What do you mean? You don’t imagine that I actually drank it, do you? I merely raised the jug to my
mouth in a gesture of solidarity,” Rayley said.
“They seem to have gotten drunk awfully fast.”
“All the better for us,” Rayley said. “To the gatehouse.”
****
As they walked, the moon reasserted itself from behind a bank of filmy clouds and the fields around
them became illuminated. Trevor did not think that anyone had taken note of their leaving, but he
nonetheless waited until they had walked some distance before lighting his pipe. After taking a deep,
soothing drag he considered his friend, whose face was startlingly visible in the moonlight.
“So what do you think of the setting, Abrams?”
“You’re asking what do I think about all these sheep? It’s hard to believe so many people are content
to gnaw away in hunger whilst surrounded by mutton.”
Trevor chuckled in agreement. “True, but it’s just like Emma’s song, is it not? At least when you get
away from the castle. All is calm, all is bright.”
“Bright, perhaps,” Rayley said. “But I believe the calm is deceptive. Granted, half the colony will be
snoring away in a drunken stupor within the hour, with the other half likely to follow. Yet I suspect