Fireworks - a poem by Margaret Maguire

Flares and silver fountains
Illuminating exotic palms
Rockets and flaming stars
Exploding Chrysanthemums' tips
White crackling Crossetts
Orange glowing sky lanterns
Red Poinsettias and Diadems
Kaleidoscopic rain storms
Shimmering Catherine Wheels

Written by Margaret Maguire


One or two firework facts:

First documentation of fireworks was in China in the 7th century and were used in spring and mid autumn festivals.

The word for firework in Japanese is hanabi which means 'fireflower'.

The largest firework display was in Madera, Portugal, and consisted of 66,326 fireworks.

Bonfire Week - A Hungarian Bonfire

I thought I'd share this excerpt from "The Hungarian" - it's perfect for Bonfire Week. The Set Up: Matthias is hosting a bonfire at his estate with Katherine in attendance.

******

Resa's voice cut through the air. "I light this match and honor the sacrificial pyre. I call on Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water elements all -- watch over the gathering here -- inspire us tonight." With a flick of her wrist, Resa struck a match against the matchbox, throwing it into the pit. There were a couple of crackles and a few pops before the flames roared to life.

Bright blue and white colors danced on top of the fire before the more dominant orange, red, and yellow flames took over. Mrs. Heatherton flinched as the fire came to life.

"Brilliant..." said Paul, mesmerized by the colors. Liz squeezed his hand.

Matthias rubbed his hands against Katherine's shoulders. "This is perfect."

"Perfect? How so?" she asked.

"You're here."

"Martin! Music!" commanded Resa.



Resa's brother sat down on a chair and picked up a guitar that was next to János. János joined in with a flute. Resa danced around the fire. Before long, Emily joined Matthias on the blanket and yawned.

"Well, I suppose it's Emily's bedtime," said Mrs. Heatherton, as she stood up. She looked downright spooked, standing next to the blanket. He could only imagine what she would tell Lady Ashton, but he shrugged it off. Nothing would bother him tonight. Nothing.

He glanced at Emily. "Go with Mrs. Heatherton, little rose."

Emily nodded her head and hugged him as well as Katherine. "Good night, Papa. Good night, Miss Archiebald."

Katherine hugged his daughter back. "Good night, Emily."

Mrs. Heatherton frowned. "God won't like this, he won't, Count Duma. Moral people don't do things like this."

Matthias kept his expression even. "This is not about God, Mrs. Heatherton. If I'm correct, this is an old English custom to celebrate summer."

"Humpf." She grabbed Emily's hand and led her away.

Paul sipped his ale. "I, for one, am glad the old frump is gone."

"Paul," said Liz, smiling. "How many have you had?"

"Not enough."

"Lazlo, pour some wine for the ladies and I'll have an ale," said Matthias.

"Katherine Archibald"


Lazlo nodded his head. The music stopped. János served everyone the food he had prepared. The rich, sweet spices left an exotic taste in Matthias's mouth. Martin picked up his guitar again. Resa grabbed a tambourine and danced a square type dance with János who had put his flute down. The pit tamed the fire. Matthias felt happy, content even, as Katherine sat close to him. He looked up at the stars. A first quarter moon. The fire made the moon appear almost red, as if it were burning as well.

"I see we have a visitor," Katherine said.

"Who?" asked Matthias.

She pointed to the celestial orb high in the sky.

"It's growing," he said, quietly.

She looked at him, concerned, cupping his cheek. "I know you don't like it, but I've never seen it look so... alive."

"With you here, I'll be fine."

She cocked her head. "Fine?"

Lazlo handed Matthias and Katherine their drinks. Matthias took a long, satisfying sip of his ale. "The moon has more influence over men than you think. Just as it plays with the tides, it can toy with a man's emotions."

Katherine raised an eyebrow.

Resa approached and clapped her hands. "Count Duma! The Verbunkos!"

He finished his food, chuckled, and stood up. "I haven't danced that in several years."

János handed Resa a tambourine and grabbed his flute.

"What's the Verbunkos?" Katherine asked.

"A Hungarian folk dance that only men dance," said Matthias, grinning.

Resa looked pleased that he was willing to take on her challenge. "Martin!"

"Matthias Duma"


Martin struck up the guitar and she kept the beat with her tambourine. Matthias hardly felt rusty even though it had been two years since he had danced the Verbunkos. He easily kept time with the music. The dance involved a lot of jumping as well as clapping. He centered the dance around Resa spinning and twirling around her. It allowed him to keep his concentration on the dance. The music built to a fast pace and then stopped suddenly. Matthias ended the dance with a quick jump and fell to Resa's feet.

"Bravo, Count Duma!" Resa exclaimed.

Matthias got to his feet and smiled. Paul, Liz, and Katherine all clapped.

"Well done, Matthias!" cried Paul. "I've never seen a dance like that."

"Now it's time for you and Miss Archibald to dance," said Resa.

Katherine waved her hands. "I couldn't dance that."

"You don't have to. We can dance the Csándás," said Matthias.

Resa clapped her hands again. "Yes, it's perfect."

"I don't know how."

"I'll show you," said Resa.

"Go on, Kate," said Liz, smiling. "Give it a try."

Katherine took Matthias's hand, and he helped her to her feet. Martin and János played their music at a slow tempo. Resa showed her a couple of steps at a time. It took about ten minutes, but Katherine seemed to pick it up. Matthias danced it slow for her the first time. There wasn't much jumping, but it was a rather square-type dance, and there was clapping involved. When the song ended, Resa approached.

"Let me dance with Count Duma at the normal pace. Watch me. Try to twirl the skirt when I do."

Katherine nodded her head. Again, the music started, and Matthias danced with Resa. From time to time Resa would look at Katherine to make sure she was watching. Matthias was pleased at how Resa was trying to help Katherine learn the dance.
The dance finished in a flurry of moves, with Matthias wrapping his hands around Resa's waist and Resa resting her head against his shoulder. She quickly parted from him and looked at Katherine. "Remember, it starts off slow but builds up to a quick ending."

"All right," Katherine said.

Matthias took Katherine's hand again. The music began. They danced in front of the fire. Liz and Paul clapped to the beat. They danced around the pit, laughing and clapping. The guitar played faster, the flute hit higher notes. Resa sang in Hungarian. They danced quicker, and when the Csándás ended, Resa threw powder into the fire. The fire crackled. It hissed loudly and then the flames turned colors -- purple, blue, green, and white before slowly returning to yellow. Matthias held Katherine tight against his muscular body. He felt her heart pulsing with energy just like his was.

"How did you do that?" asked Paul.

"Magic," replied Resa.

"Well done, Resa," said Matthias. Then he looked down into Katherine's eyes. "I've enjoyed myself tonight."

"So have I."


******

REVIEWS:
Happily Ever After Reviews, 5 Cups
"This is an excellent book and I think fans of both the paranormal and historical romances will really, really enjoy it."

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"This book is extremely entertaining. The plot is sensual and romantic."

Coffee Time Romance, 3 Cups
"Ms. Burkhart tells this tale in such a voice that we can practically feel the waves of emotions both characters are feeling coming off the pages."


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Nights of mischief

In Yorkshire, where I live, Nov 4th has always been known as Mischief Night, when local youngsters traditionally attempt all kinds of mayhem. Favourites are knocking on doors and running away, lifting garden gates off their hinges and hiding them and tapping on windows with a twig while hiding in the bushes. Unlit bonfires may be set deliberately alight, or 'raided' for their workwood.

Reading this list through I'm horrified, but I do remember taking part in bonfire 'raids' and really enjoying it.

Now I write romance I prefer more elegant mischief - that of a man and woman testing and teasing each other. Below is a teasing, mischievous excerpt from my medieval historical romance, To Touch The Knight. In it the hero and heroine are sparring, 'making mischief' for each other:

Excerpt.

Ranulf recognized the jutting gray beard. "Well met, Sir Tancred."

"Sir Dew of the Moon, if you please." The older man turned on the spot, showing off a costume of loose white and silver robes smothered in pearls and silver coins. He had a cap on, too, that looked very much like a nightcap, but one that trailed more ropes of coins.

"Have you a troop of seamstresses with you?" Ranulf asked, grinning to show he meant no ill-will.

"Nay, but my lady guessed it would be unknown knights. It is a popular theme."

"Indeed." A dormant streak of mischief, long banished since he had been a squire, stirred in Ranulf. He knew very well who Sir Tancred's lady was. "Would you swap masks and costumes with me?"

There was a rustle of cloth and coins as the older knight shook his head. "I have promised to escort my lady."

"May I escort her also? We could stroll on either side: Sir Dew and Sir Jade."

"I do not think my lady would like this..."

"If you allow it, I will joust in your amour and you keep the prizes."

"Agreed!"

As they shook hands, a rattle of drums sounded and a woman robed in yellow, scarlet and blue came down the castle steps, arm in arm with a short, burly man, wearing a mask of tall, sweeping peacock feathers and a feather cloak.

"Lady Rainbow and Lord Phoenix!" roared an iron-throated herald, to a pattering of applause.

Behind these came the other ladies, gaudy in tight, long sleeved gowns of blue and scarlet, purple and gold. Ranulf saw Giles, whom he recognized by his cocksure air and costume of long blue robe and black mask - the role of sea knight, which Giles had played at other jousts - rush to escort a lady who seemed to be a sparkle of gold.

"Beauty needs no foil," he murmured. He wagered that once the ladies unmasked, Giles would be disappointed.

"And are you beautiful, sir knight?" asked a new voice behind him.

"My lady!" Sir Tancred bowed so low that a rope of coins and the tip of his headdress touched the dirt. "We looked for you, Sir Jade and myself. We did not see you come with the other damsels. Where, too, are your attendants?"

"I chose another way, my lord, a way less crowded," came the calm response. "Sir Jade?"

His heart hammering as it never did when he was about to tilt, Ranulf determined to be equally reserved. "You will know jade, my lady, being as you are from far away." He patted his moss-strewn chest. "I am the English kind. But I see you disapprove of me."

He looked down, straight into a veiled face dominated by a pair of brilliant eyes, as large as a falcon's, and as piercing.

"Sir Jade, you are mistaken." Turning away from him without more ado, the lady threaded a narrow hand deftly through Sir Tancred's waiting arm. "I congratulate you on the elegance and wit of your mask and costume, Sir Dew. This fore-noon you will dazzle us all."

She had not answered his question on her lack of servants, but the older man straightened and stroked his white robes as if they were the finest ermine. “It is because of you, my lady. You were my inspiration.”

"What do you think of mine?" Ranulf interrupted. Usually he had no time for such folly; play like this reminded him of Olwen, of what he had lost. Yet this cool veiled green damsel piqued him: perversely he wanted her to think well of him.

The cool bright eyes studied him. "I find you apt, sir. Today I am the lady of jade." She offered him her free hand. "What do you think of me?"

She stepped closer as if daring him to touch. A sweet, rich perfume rose from her as she moved.

"You are as green as Roman glass, my lady," he remarked.

"And as slippery?" she countered.

"As green as jade," Sir Dew/Tancred put in, keen not to be left out of this encounter.

"I did not say that," Ranulf answered, disliking to have thoughts assumed of him, even if they were right. "Are you always veiled?"

"It is the custom of my people. Women go veiled. Some men, too."

"The old and ugly," said Tancred, but Ranulf ignored him.

"Are such loose clothes also the custom?" he asked. She was a pale green shimmer, clad head to toe in a filmy, billowing sheet of something - whether robe, tunic or gown, he could not say.

"These are the clothes I wear and how I wear them when I am walking," she said. "When I am watching the joust, I will be so," and she twisted her arms.

At once the sheet about her settled snugly over her hips and became a single slender rope across her left shoulder, running cross-wise over her narrow waist and surprisingly full breasts. Beside him and around him Ranulf heard the gasps and sensed the stares - he would be gawping, too, he wagered. Beneath the green shimmer, which he could not honestly call a cloak, but then he had no other words to describe it, the lady was all but naked.

She hides her face but still wears less than a tavern wench, was his astonished thought.

Truly, she wore a tiny golden bodice or jerkin over her bosom, cut to show the tops of her arms and breasts, and stopping before the last of her ribs, so that her upper arms and her middle were bare, naked and bare. Ranulf found himself leaning in to her, almost reaching for her slender waist and copper-colored, smooth-as-silk skin. He was reminded now, crudely and starkly, that he had not lain with any woman for months. The blood thumping in his ears and more painfully elsewhere, his mind flashed to the little modest maid of the morning, who had darted off. Two different kinds of challenges.

"You are the very season for lilies, princess, "he said, making a play of breathing in slowly and commenting on her perfume because she expected him to scold or praise her costume.

"Today I am the Lady Jade," she reminded him anew, nodding to a belt of green beads wound about her hips and several bracelets of green bangles. One of the nearby knights started to say something in French, but Ranulf stared at him and the man instantly went quiet. He clasped the hand she offered, amazed that she should be wearing gloves up to her elbows.

"Have you a favor in that costume for me?" he asked, while the knights about hitched their eyebrows at her strange attire and the ladies in masks made a point of not glancing her way.

"Alas, Sir Jade! My favors are all given out."

“Your face-veil is green and we shall soon be unmasking. ‘Tis considered unmannerly to remain masked when the lord and lady are not.”

"Thank you for pointing out that custom, Sir Jade. To be sure, I did not know it."

"To be sure you did, princess." Ranulf squeezed her fingers, tempted to shake her until her bracelets and beads rattled.

"I will remove that veil when we reach the place of tourney," she replied, not in the least discomforted by his outright denial.

They were moving by this time, strolling to the jousting ground, the princess in her fantastic costume floating like a low green cloud between him and Sir Tancred.

"May I claim it?" he asked. "I am jade, as you."

"Huurph!" grunted Sir Tancred.

"Forgive me, sir, but I cannot grant your request. To do so would be to break faith with others."

"I understand completely," Ranulf replied, looking over the princess's veiled head at Sir Tancred. "We must honor our agreements."

To see the cover, blurb and buy links, please visit my blog:
http://www.lindsaytownsend.net/2008/04/to-touch-knight.html

Best wishes, Lindsay.

[Pieter Breughel's 'Children's Games (1560) sourced from Wikimedia Commons.]