{"id":1144,"date":"2019-02-13T12:43:05","date_gmt":"2019-02-13T17:43:05","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1144"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:07:08","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:07:08","slug":"dance-of-the-dandelion","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/dance-of-the-dandelion\/","title":{"rendered":"Dance of the Dandelion"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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Dance of the Dandelion<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Dina L. Sleiman<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Love\u2019s quest leads her the world over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dandelion Dering was born a peasant in the English village of Arun, but her soul yearned for another life, another world. One filled with color and music, with adventure and passion . . . with more. Haunted by childhood memories, Dandelion determines to find a better existence than the life every peasant in the village contents themselves with. Even if her sweetheart William\u2019s predictions prove true, and her journey leads straight to heartache.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From her sleepy hamlet to the intrigue of castle life, from the heart of London to the adventurous seas, Dandelion flees from the mistakes of her past, always seeking that something, that someone who will satisfy her longings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Will Dandelion ever find the rhythm to her life\u2019s dance . . . or did she leave her chance for true love at home in Arun village?<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Sussex England – 1327<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The gray stone castle\nbeckoned from atop the grassy hill, waiting, calling to me as always. Its\nturreted towers rose tall and strong as sentinels on either side\u2014solid,\ndependable, so unlike my own wattle and daub hut down the lane. Pennants in the\nWorthing colors of garnet and gold swayed against a vibrant blue sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDreaming again, are you,\nDandelion?\u201d Alice\u2019s voice came from behind, jolting me from my trance. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I swiveled from the window.\nMy eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim interior of Father John\u2019s kitchen\nwith its wood-beamed walls. Alice\u2019s rosy face came into view. She held a basket\nof bright orange carrots against her ample hip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A warm flush worked its way\nup my cheek at being caught musing yet again. \u201cI was putting the bread on the\nsill to cool.\u201d If only my telltale cheeks would cool as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSeems you left your mind\nin the castle courtyard near the ovens where you baked that bread.\u201d Alice\nplaced the carrots on the table and picked up a long knife. She waved it toward\nthe backyard where my closest friend, William, sat under a shady tree, studying\na Latin text. \u201cPerhaps you ought to turn your thoughts closer to home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I huffed. William had\nignored me when I walked by moments earlier. \u201cTo what? Latin? You\u2019re the one\nwho told me a woman could go further in life with domestic skills.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIndeed, my sweet. But well\nyou know I am referring to that handsome boy holding the book and not the text\nitself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe is far too busy with\nhis studies for the likes of me. Besides, well you<\/em> know I plan to aim\nhigher than William Ashby. Goodness, he might yet end up in the church if\nFather John has his way.\u201d I took the carrots and knife from her hand and began\nslicing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, leave those.\u201d Alice\noffered me a basket instead. \u201cGo and collect some flowers for your new kirtle.\nIt\u2019s beautiful outside.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A smile tickled my lips.\n\u201cButtercup yellow with a sage green mantle. Oh, Alice, you are too good to me.\u201d\nI couldn\u2019t hold back a squeal. Nor could I wait to throw this tattered brown\ntunic I wore into the rag heap. The new kirtle would show off my subtle curves\nto perfection. Although I had learned the basics of weaving and sewing as a\nchild, I was anxious to continue my lessons in dyeing and embroidery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Taking the basket from her,\nI gave Alice\u2019s plump shoulder a squeeze. How could I thank her enough for the\nopportunities she had offered me? Me, Dandelion, daughter of the crippled\ncottar. Alice claimed with my new skills I could work in a town or open a shop\nsomeday, but I dreamed only of working and living at the castle. There I would\nremain close to my family<\/a> and provide for them as I always longed to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She batted me away with an\naffectionate swat. \u201cGo on with you now. And while you\u2019re at it, that fine young\nman beneath the tree might need some incentive to keep him from taking holy\norders. Don\u2019t wait until it\u2019s too late.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Of course, everyone knew\nthat \u201chousekeeping\u201d was the least of Alice\u2019s duties in the home of our village\npriest, but as the dear woman tended to the needs of the poor and the sick\nalongside Father John, no one dared complain. Such arrangements were common\nenough. I had seen with my own eyes the devotion they shared. Perhaps Alice\nwished to protect me from falling into a similar fate. But I highly doubted\nWilliam was the man for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I crinkled my face and\nshook my head before walking out the door into the bright golden sunshine. As I\npassed by him beneath the tree on my way to the garden, I decided to heed\nAlice\u2019s sage advice nonetheless. \u201cGod give you good day, William.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He grunted but never even\nlooked up from his blasted book. Beyond William\u2019s feet in the shade sat the\nsmooth patch of dirt where Father John taught us our letters and numbers, where\nwe later scratched complex mathematics equations with a pointed stick. Once,\nFather John drew a map of the whole world and gave us a thorough geography\nlesson on that patch. It was filled with fond memories of William, my baby\nbrother Tim, and me, working side by side to make a better life for ourselves\nand escape this peasant village.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I continued the\nconversation on my own. \u201cYes, and a lovely day it is. Don\u2019t you think? The\nperfect afternoon for picking flowers. Remember when we picked flowers\ntogether, William?\u201d We used to do everything together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He raised his brow at my\nchatter but said not at word. Although William did indeed love to study, his\nbehavior toward me seemed oddly rude of late. Had I evaded his veiled hints of\nmarriage one too many times?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I proceeded to ignore him\nas well and settled myself in the garden, inhaling a deep whiff of the fertile\nSussex countryside. Who needed the likes of William Ashby? Glancing across the\nvalley, I took in fresh-turned earth bursting with life beneath the azure sky,\nsloping green hills dotted with fluffy white sheep, meadows of wildflowers, a\ngurgling stream, and the dappled forest beyond. I had danced through those\nfields as a child. My feet itched to spin and leap even now, but at sixteen, I\ngrew old for such nonsense. Instead, I applied myself to the more pressing task\nof locating the perfect blossoms for my precious kirtle. I surveyed a cluster\nof blooms that looked just right and ran my fingers across the moist, silken\npetals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDandy, come over here,\u201d\nWilliam shouted. \u201cCan you help me make this out?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

So now he wished to speak\nwith me? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I bent over and continued\nmy search for the ideal yellow blossoms. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A hair ribbon fell in my\neye, and I swiped it away. Assisting Alice, I amassed quite a collection of\nthem. My favorites were violet, sky blue, and sea-foam green. Each brought out\na different shade in my exotic eyes, William said, and a different side of my\npersonality. I wore the purple ribbon today. Purple stood for passion. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDandy, please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wished my brother Tim was\nwith him under that tree hard at work at his studies. Unlike me, an academic\neducation could in truth take him far in the world. Father John offered a\npriceless gift to William and Tim. The gift of a future. Yet more oft than not,\nthe eleven-year-old boy tossed it aside to romp through the forest with his\nfriends. I should set down this basket and drag his thieving behind back here\nthis minute. He may not care about his own well-being, but I most certainly\ndid. And I had no desire to see him tied to a whipping post.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMarian, please don\u2019t\nignore me. I need you.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

William\u2019s use of the\nnickname made me laugh. It brought to mind that he and I had once run through\nthe woods as members of Robin Hood\u2019s merry band of poachers as well. Perhaps I\nshould not begrudge Tim the fun. It was a miracle the lad had survived 1315,\nthe year of the great famine. His weak infant whimpers called to me over the\ndistance of memory even now. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I ran my fingers across my\nbrow to wipe the thoughts away. He was the last born boy and our family\ntreasure. Surely Tim would be fine. After all, the castle steward remained our\nlongtime ally. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease, come and help me.\nI\u2019m truly stuck, and Father John won\u2019t be home for hours,\u201d William called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut I\u2019m all covered with\ndirt. Goodness, William, you act as if you\u2019re the only one with anything\nimportant to do. Bring it over here.\u201d I brushed my hands on Alice\u2019s old apron. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He walked toward me. \u201cIt\u2019s\nunfair you have such a knack for languages when you don\u2019t appreciate it.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s unfair I cannot make\ngood use of my knack for languages, thus I must content myself to sew.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

William looked stiff from\ntoo much sitting as he joined me. \u201cRight here, Dandy. It\u2019s right here.\u201d He\npointed to the page. \u201cI can\u2019t seem to wrap my mind around it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHand it over.\u201d I snatched\nit from him. \u201c\u2018Est autem fides sperandorum substantia rerum argumentum non\nparentum.<\/em>\u2019 Hmm. \u2018Now faith is . . . .\u2019 <\/em>Well, that is simple enough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, yes, I got that part,\nit\u2019s the next that puzzles me.\u201d He leaned in and took the other side of the\nbook. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As he pressed close, I bade\nmy errant heart to still and focused upon the words. \u201cWell, I guess it says . .\n. being sure or being certain. Substance would be the easiest translation, but\nit doesn\u2019t make any sense.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He stopped and looked up at\nme for a moment. Some emotion I couldn\u2019t read flashed through his eyes.\n\u201cPerhaps that\u2019s right. It does seem odd, though. \u2018Now faith is the substance of\nthings hoped for and the proof of things not seen.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no, not proof, it\nlooks more like argument. Evidence, perhaps. It\u2019s all gibberish if you ask me.\nI don\u2019t think it was written down properly. Someone should fix it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled the book away\nfrom me. \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t talk that way about the Word of God. If we don\u2019t\nunderstand it, then I suppose we are the ones in need of fixing.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I glared at him. \u201cOh fie.\nReally, William, I don\u2019t know how much more of your piety I can stomach. Do you\ntruly plan to become a priest? You could be a clerk or a bailiff or something practical\nwith all you\u2019ve learned.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re missing the point\nentirely. Give it a try. \u2018Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the\nevidence of things not seen.\u2019 It\u2019s . . . as if faith is something we can touch\nor hold. Perhaps by our faith, we make things real, as if our very faith is all\nthe proof we need. There, it does make sense. I can\u2019t see God, but I know He is\nreal, and that very knowing is all the proof I need.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, yes, it\u2019s\nspellbinding.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He brushed off my sarcasm.\n\u201cAnd look, there\u2019s more still I think, in the word hope<\/em>. We don\u2019t have\nto hope God exists, that would be silly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSilly indeed.\u201d I rolled my\neyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt seems as if the hope\nmay be bringing things into existence. Perhaps our faith is some sort of force\nto bring about change.\u201d He tapped on the page. \u201cSee, I told you, it is\ncompelling if you just put some time into it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTruly, you give me a\nheadache with all the time you put into it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you understand at\nall?\u201d He reached toward me but let his hand drop.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFaith . . . faith is a\nforce? Like fairy magic I suppose.\u201d I stood up and walked to a nearby tree.\nLeaning against it, I settled my gaze upon the castle. \u201cWhy, as a matter of\nfact, I do have faith. I have faith that one day a handsome prince shall gallop\nin on a black charger and sweep me away. He\u2019ll take me to a distant land, and\nthere he shall build me a lovely manor of gray stones with flowers all about\ninstead of an ugly old moat. It will be filled with books and beautiful\nfabrics. It will be quite charming, I\u2019m certain. So there you are. Do you fancy\nI can hope that into existence?\u201d I turned back to him and lifted an eyebrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shook the book in the\nair. \u201cGod\u2019s teeth, Dandy, why must you twist everything and make it about your\nstupid dreams and your vanity? Why not say Lord Thomas Worthing? I know full\nwell that\u2019s who you think of, that spoiled fool running around Scotland killing\npeople for Lord only knows what reason. What an idiot you are. My mother is\nright. You are by far the most selfish, arrogant heathen on God\u2019s green earth. That<\/em>\nI have faith of, indeed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thoughts of Lord Worthing\nnever failed to rile William, but his shabby treatment of me had gone on long\nenough. \u201cI\u2019ve wasted quite enough time on this stupid conversation and the\nlikes of you, William Ashby.\u201d I gathered my flowers, turned, and walked away,\nstomping my bare feet against the dirt lane. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had last caught sight of\nhis lordship five years earlier on this very lane. He indeed rode a fine\ncharger, looking every inch the strong, handsome knight with his garnet and\ngold colors flying in the wind. Cantering past me, he had smiled and winked.\nRather than remaining angry with William as I should, the memory made me grin.\nI turned my lips back to a pout before he could see. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

William trotted at my heels\nlike a kicked puppy as I turned upon a wooded trail. \u201cDandy, I\u2019m sorry. Please\ndon\u2019t be cross with me. I just worry about you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAbout my eternal soul or\nwhom I shall marry?\u201d I continued walking. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, I wouldn\u2019t be much\nof a friend if I didn\u2019t worry about your soul, and if I get a little jealous,\nit\u2019s because I care so much. Fairy stories are fun, but those sorts of\nimaginations can only bring trouble. You\u2019re still my prettiest girl, though,\npretty enough to be a princess.\u201d He spoke directly into my ear in his most\ncharming voice, a deep manly voice that made me quiver.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pushed him away. \u201cOh,\nstop it. I forgive you, I suppose. We both know I shall eventually.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome, let\u2019s sit by the river like we did when we were children.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I smirked. William fancied\nhimself so grown-up. As we continued down the leafy trail, he used the excuse\nof climbing over a fallen log to take my hand, then never let go, gallant\nindeed. It felt so warm and safe in his large rugged palm. We had been best friends\nfor so long I oft forgot how handsome his sandy hair looked falling in soft\nwaves about his wide cheekbones. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A child squealed at a\ndistance. William had given up poaching for religious reasons long ago.\nHowever, he passed the role of Robin Hood to Tim, who rounded up his own troop\nof merry men. The new crop of boisterous young hunters filled the woods with\nhappy sounds of adventure and thievery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At nineteen and sixteen\nWilliam and I were children in so many ways, still learning and discovering the\nworld, yet fully grown by everyone\u2019s expectations. I gazed up at William\u2019s\nface. It narrowed nicely down to a cleft chin and full lips. He stood tall and\nnatural like the woods around us, slender but strong, a peasant girl\u2019s dream,\nbut to me he was a friend. Wasn\u2019t he? Every girl in the village might long for\nhim, swoon in his handsome presence, but surely I had higher ambitions than\nWilliam. <\/em>Didn\u2019t I? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My older sister Sadie planned to marry soon. She seemed happy enough\nwith the prospect, and why not? It was the best she ever wished for, the best\nshe could expect\u2014marriage to a handsome young villein, working in his family\u2019s\nfields, raising his children, growing more peasants to work in more fields.\nNever mind they would both be old and gray within ten years. Never mind she\nwould likely die in childbirth long before then. My brother Robert was ever\nslipping into the woods with a redhead from down the lane. No doubt he\u2019d be on\nthe path to matrimony before long. But that sort of life was far from enough\nfor me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n

I held tight to William\u2019s\nhand as we approached the Arun River, the namesake of the castle and the\nvillage. We sat on our favorite warm rock, and to my surprise, he wrapped his\narm around my waist. With his free hand he took a springy lock of my wheat-colored\nhair and twisted it about his finger, causing my stomach to twirl as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I attempted to lighten the\nmood. \u201cNot such the holy saint now, are you?\u201d Yet, the quiet breathiness of my\nvoice surprised even me, and the result was quite the opposite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDandy, you asked about me\nbecoming a priest, but you must know how much I love you. I would give it all\nup in a second if I thought you would marry me. It\u2019s just when you talk all\nwistful about some high, fancy lifestyle, I fear I don\u2019t have a chance.\u201d He caressed\nmy cheek. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A tear filled my eye at his\nvery nearness. I turned my head into his palm and rested it there. \u201cOh,\nWilliam, don\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, please. I can\u2019t give\nyou a castle, Dandy, and you know I\u2019ll never have a black charger. I\u2019ll be\nlucky to have any sort of horse at all. But, if I work terribly hard, I can\nmake a life for us. I\u2019ll build you the prettiest little cottage right over\nthere on the hillside by the river. I can see it now. I\u2019ll dig and gather the\nstones by hand. I will. I\u2019ll do it just for you, and we\u2019ll plant the loveliest\nring of flowers around it you ever did see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could almost picture it.\nMy head grew swishy at the tickle of William\u2019s breath against my skin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll build a bridge over\nthe river, and I\u2019ll make a path of cobblestones going right to the door, so you\nwon\u2019t get your feet muddy, or your shoes either. I\u2019ll see to it you have shoes\nand plenty of clothes and warm cloaks for the winter, you and every one of our\nchildren. And I\u2019ll wake you up each morning with a cup of fresh milk from our\nvery own cow . . . a cup of fresh milk . . . .\u201d His voice faded. \u201cAnd kisses.\nI\u2019ll cover you head to toe with kisses each and every day of our lives.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My breath caught in my\nchest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

True to his word, he kissed my cheeks, my eyes, the tip of my nose\nwith his full, soft lips. I thought nothing in the world could feel better than\nhis velvet touch, until he tipped up my chin, and his trail of kisses reached\nmy lips. They came alive beneath his and moved of their own accord. A bubbly\nwarmth filled me to my fingertips and toes. I knew I should stop him, stop this\nfantasy, but he had drawn me in as well. It all seemed so real, so very real\nand possible as we sat kissing in the sunshine. Oh, how I wanted this moment to\nbe true and last forever. I never dreamed of such bliss. In all of my planning\nand scheming, I never planned for this. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

William pulled away, struggling for breath, and stared into my\neyes. My heart fluttered in my chest. I could see my own amazement mirrored in\nhis golden-brown orbs. He let go of me and lay back on the rock with a long\nsigh. We remained in our separate reveries, yet somehow one. I edged forward\nand dipped my toes in the cool flowing water, swishing them to and fro,\nreliving the kiss again and again, touching my lips where the tingle remained. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then William roused me back\nto the present. He held in his hand a crown of cornflowers he had woven as I\nmused. He placed it upon my head and ran his fingers down the length of my\nhair. \u201cNow you look a princess,\u201d he said. \u201cThe cornflowers match your blue\neyes, and with those golden tresses cascading down your shoulders, who would\ndare deny it?\u201d He reached for another flower and formed it into a tiny circle\nthis time. He lifted my hand and slid it with ease onto my fourth finger. A\ngood omen, Sadie would say. \u201cDandelion, fairy queen of all I see, I may not be\na handsome prince, but will you marry me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, William, you\u2019ve been\nreading far too much poetry for your own good.\u201d I gave him a playful shove,\nbreaking the spell. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it was midsummer, and we had discovered a new delight, sweeter\neven than the pink candy Lord Worthing had once given me. Day after day we were\nfound kissing on the rock. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tim and his cohorts teased us mercilessly. They snuck up behind us\none day completely unheeded and pushed us into the water. We just splashed back\nup at them and continued kissing, soaking wet and knee-deep in the river. If\nonly matters could have remained so simple.<\/p>\n\n\n