Thomas Smith and Genevieve, daughter of Louis the Innkeeper, were married under the spreading oak tree on an early spring day just after the second plowing. The weather had held, bright and clear, until midway through Father Liam's benediction. He had been in the middle of the sentence "Fruit of their loins-"when a tremendous clap of thunder drowned him out. A hammering rain followed a heartbeat later, and drove most of the attendees under any meager corner of shelter they could find. Most, but not all. Many eyes which had been fighting to stay open during the ceremony flashed open at the sight of the bride and her party dancing in the rain, their best dresses now soaked and clinging desperately to their sinuous bodies.
As the storm died down, Wat the Brewer brought forth a cask of beer m
