His Fair Lady (21 page)

Ana groaned inwardly, wondering how she
could possibly escape this.

“Sir Royce, you will do me the favor of
accompanying Juliana to the hall, will you not?” Lord Gilbert
entreated the knight. “These old legs will not carry me there, I
fear. She’ll need an escort and partner for dinner, someone to help
her through the formalities. Besides, as you were charged with the
task of finding her, ‘tis most fitting you be the one to present
her to the sovereigns.”

Ana began to shake her head. “I wouldn’t
know how to act or what to say.”

“The less said would be the better,” Sir
Royce suggested with a smile.

Ana narrowed her gaze at him.

“Exactly so,” Lord Gilbert agreed brightly.
“Allow Sir Royce to speak for you and follow his lead at dinner.
‘Tis a simple matter.”

“But am I properly dressed, will I look out
of place?”

“You look ravishing, child. Isn’t that so
Sir Royce?” Lord Gilbert beamed.

To Ana’s surprise, Sir Royce nodded in
agreement.

“Indeed, my lord, but have no fear. I shall
guard her well from all the swains in the hall.”

Ana wavered when Sir Royce cast her a smile.
Feeling Lord Gilbert give a squeeze to her hand, she returned her
gaze to him.

“Go now and enjoy yourself, child. Come
again on the morrow after chapel. We will break our fast together
and you can tell me all about the royal feast.”

As the old lord loosed his hold on Ana’s
fingers, she rose and started to step away. Turning back, unsure
what prompted her, she bent and swiftly kissed Lord Gilbert’s
cheek.

“Until tomorrow,” she said softly, watching
a contented smile spread over his features as he settled back on
the pillows.

She turned to Sir Royce and found a pensive
look upon his face, his eyes studying her. Why she could not
fathom. Again, trumpets blared from without.

“My lady, if you will do me the honor . . .”
The knight proffered his arm, waiting.

A quivery feeling traveled through her at
the look he gave her now, grazing her senses. Ana drew a breath
and, without a word, crossed to him. Laying her hand lightly atop
his forearm, she allowed him to escort her from the chamber.

A brilliance of color struck Ana’s eyes as
she and Sir Royce entered the forechamber of the great hall. There,
noble lords and ladies assembled, richly arrayed in silks and
brocades — vivid reds, blues, greens, yellows, browns, and black.
Jewels sparkled about their necks and across their fingers, furs in
evidence everywhere.

But just as staggering as the sight of so
much resplendence in one place was the veritable menagerie before
her. Hooded falcons perched on the gloved hands of men and women
alike, great hounds adhering close to their sides. Some nobles
possessed rarer creatures — monkeys and exotic birds from the East,
their breeds unknown to Ana. One lord held a raven. The lady beside
him kept a weasel on a golden chain.

A fanfare of trumpets and drums announced
some important arrival. Ana followed the gazes of the others and
discovered the glittering personages of the king and queen as they
swept briefly into view and entered the feasting hall.

“The lords and ladies will enter by rank
now,” Sir Royce informed quietly, bending toward her ear. “We shall
wait to be announced and follow after.”

“Announced?” Ana swallowed. “There is still
time to withdraw to our chambers is there not? I mean, I do not
mind taking a simple meal alone.”

The knight smiled into her eyes, sending
tiny shivers darting through her.

“Enjoy this night, Juliana. Few are
privileged to feast with royalty. ‘Tis a moment in your life you’ll
never forget, and something to tell your grandchildren one
day.”

“Grandchildren? ‘Tis rushing things a bit,
do you not think?” Ana muttered, diverting her gaze to where nobles
streamed into the hall. “I’ve not even a husband yet.”

Sir Royce chuckled. “No doubt you will, fair
maiden, and children aplenty.”

Ana’s gaze skipped to the knight, but he’d
already turned away and was speaking to one of the court officials
who next disappeared inside the chamber. Long minutes later, he
returned, giving a nod to Sir Royce then signaling the herald at
the door. As the horn blared, Sir Royce turned to Ana.

“Are you ready, my lady?”

Ana shook her head, shrinking back, her
knees gone to water. But Sir Royce covered her hand where it yet
rested upon his arm and drew her with him across the threshold and
into the hall.

Ana felt swallowed by the sheer enormity of
the room, the ceiling ascending to a great height. The walls
stretched an inestimable length, and what portions were not covered
by tapestries were paneled with screens, painted in colorful
patterns. Beneath her feet, herbs sweetened the rushes, giving off
the scents of costmary, pennyroyal and tansy as she and the knight
passed over them, proceeding down the center of the hall toward the
far end.

It seemed she traversed another world
entirely, Ana reflected. ‘Twas alien to all she’d ever known. As
she and Sir Royce continued on, a low buzz arose in the hall.
Stealing a glance to either side, Ana saw that the lords and ladies
settled themselves at the linen-draped tables paralleling the
walls. Their hunting birds poised on T perches behind them, the
monkey as well. Unnervingly, Ana found the nobles’ interest
fastened upon herself and the knight as they bent their heads
together, murmuring amongst themselves.

Ana felt Sir Royce squeeze her hand
reassuringly and turned her eyes to his. He held her gaze with his
until, at last, they arrived at the hall’s far end. Looking up, Ana
gasped softly. The king and queen smiled down from thronelike
chairs upon the dais, positioned beneath a silken canopy of red and
gold.

King John appeared much as she’d imagined
him from descriptions she’d heard, these from the time he and his
troops had passed through Chinon on their way to the royal
fortress. Broad-shouldered and bearded, he possessed regular
features plus the fiery hair of the Angevins. ‘Twas the queen,
however, who seized Ana’s attention, her youth as startling as her
beauty, her flaxen hair pale like Ana’s, only hinting of gold
rather than silver.

Beside Ana, Sir Royce bent in a deep bow
toward the sovereigns. All nervousness, Ana started to bow as well.
Catching herself, she attempted a curtsy, unsure how to accomplish
it precisely. As she started to sink into a wobbly semisquat, a
better idea struck her — to simply genuflect as ever she did before
the church altar. ‘Twas the nearest thing to a curtsy she could
think of. Oh, why hadn’t Sir Royce warned her of this? Dropping
onto one knee, Ana bowed her head respectfully.

“Rise, child, rise. Let us have a look at
you,” the king’s voice resounded, edged with amusement. “Sir Royce,
I sent you on a quest little more than a fortnight ago. Am I to
assume the maid you bring before us is Lord Gilbert Osborne’s
granddaughter?”

“Aye, Majesty. I present to you the Lady
Juliana Mandeville.”

Ana flinched at the knight’s firm assertion,
something not proven, leastwise to her own satisfaction.

“By the saints, but the maid could pass for
my lady-wife’s sister. Do you not think so, Isabella?”

Lifting her gaze, Ana found the youthful
queen’s smile settling upon her, her blue eyes brightening.

“Indeed, and I shall be delighted to make a
new acquaintance of one just come from France. Where did Sir Royce
find you, Lady Juliana?”

“Chinon, Majesty.”

“A lovely city. ‘Tis not so far from my
family’s lands of Angoulême,” the queen said wistfully, then laid a
hand on the king’s arm. “My husband and I passed through Chinon
recently, following our wedding, whilst on our way to England.” She
returned her smile to Ana. “Tomorrow we must speak more of these
things. I will send for you to join my ladies in the garden.”

“You are most gracious, Majesty.”

As Ana began to straighten, the king leaned
forward in his chair, his gaze searching the knight’s bruised
features.

“What is this, Sir Royce? ‘Twould seem your
quest was not without incident.”

“True, Majesty, but I will heal.”

Guilt stung Ana, while a new fear coiled in
her stomach. Would the knight reveal her part in his injuries? What
would be done to a simple maid who brought harm to a knight,
especially one of his standing, a hero no less? But the knight made
no elaboration, and the king spoke again.

“No doubt you will wish to see my counselor
concerning your grant, Sir Royce. I shall instruct them to make
time for you tomorrow. I saw Beckwell for myself in my recent
travels, one of East Anglia’s finer pieces of property, I vow.”

The knight stiffened at Ana’s side. She
could not read his thoughts any more than she could the shuttered
look he now wore. But, hadn’t he told Lord Gilbert his estate lay
in Kent, a place named “Birkwell,” not “Beckwell?” Sir Royce
offered no response, however. She could only guess at his reason.
‘Twould be unwise to contradict the king before an entire hall of
nobles. One might mistake it as a challenge, implying the sovereign
was lying.

The king bid his jewel-encrusted goblet be
filled with wine and brought to him. This done, he raised it before
the noble gathering.

“Today, Lady Juliana Mandeville has been
restored to her rightful place among her own. Let nothing more be
said, no reminders given, of her regrettable absence these many
years, or the misjudgments that caused it.” His gaze strayed
briefly to Sir Royce then returned to the hall. “Let us rejoice
only that this tender maiden of the realm has been saved from her
distress and restored to us.”

Distress? Ana beheld the king somewhat
dismayed. The only distress she felt was to be standing here before
his royal personage and the queen’s and a hall filled with nobles —
that and the distress of being kidnapped from her groom’s side on
her wedding day.

Unaware of her thoughts, the king smiled
widely, then downed a mouthful of wine and lifted his goblet once
more. “Let the feast begin!” he proclaimed, full of good cheer.

As Sir Royce and Ana withdrew from where
they stood before the dais, a finely robed man holding a long white
wand approached them. He motioned for them to follow and led them
to one of the tables nearby, at the upper end of the hall.

They stepped around several of the great
dogs lying in the rushes and seated themselves, side by side.
Within moments, liveried servants with towels on their arms and
bearing pitchers and bowls moved among the lords and ladies. Ana
followed Sir Royce’s lead, washing her hands in the fragrant herbal
water. Next, another of the many court officials — identified to
her by Sir Royce as the almoner — led the room in grace.

Ana started as a fresh blaze of trumpets
signaled a new procession. Instantly came a parade of squires
bearing great platters of food and tureens and something the knight
called a subtlety in the shape of a ship.

Sir Royce assisted Ana, choosing a variety
of choice meats and placing them on the trencher they shared, a
thickly sliced square of bread. Too, he saw that their single
goblet brimmed with wine, and he broke open fresh rolls for them.
These were made of a fine wheat flour, the texture delicate and
light, the color snow white. Ana inhaled their tantalizing
fragrance, then bit into the wondrous creation.

“Ah, ‘tis Heaven itself, Sir Knight.” She
chewed on the delicious morsel, so different from the coarse barley
and rye breads she was accustomed to eating. As she stuffed another
piece of the bread into her mouth, she discovered several eyebrows
raised in her directions. Ana looked back to the knight, who only
smiled.

“You may wish to save some of your bread to
use as a sop for the soups and sauces,” he advised, offering her
his own roll.

The next hour passed in a haze as endless
offerings circulated about the hall — dishes of meat, fish, fowl,
stews, puddings, pasties, and tarts of every kind. Ana believed she
could feed the entire city of Chinon with this one feast alone.

She quickly discovered that the nobles
possessed a penchant for sauces, these of sharp mustards, cream,
wine, and fruit, served on most everything. Unaccustomed to their
richness, she found more pleasure in sampling dishes made with rare
spices — figs stuffed with eggs and cinnamon, gingered carp, and
something called
pumpes
,
small pork balls seasoned with almonds, mace, cloves, and dusted
with sugar.

“How do you find the wine?” Sir Royce asked,
watching as she took a sip and handed the goblet back to him.

“Tolerable. Barely.” Ana coughed, trying to
clear her throat of the drink’s sediment, caught part way down.
“I’d much prefer ale and would willingly make my own for the entire
castle if ‘twas allowed.”

“Make ale? Like an ale-wife?” Lady Edith,
who sat near, gave a shrill laugh, which ended in a snorting sound.
“What a waggish sense of humor you have, Lady Juliana. Of course,
we must not deprive the commoners of their livelihoods. After all,
‘tis what gives purpose to their drab existence and is what they
are best suited for.” She popped one of the little pork balls into
her mouth, then drew on her wine.

Ana’s temper flared at the woman’s
superiority and callous regard for the very people she’d been
raised among. Balling her hands, she started to rise, but felt Sir
Royce’s hand upon her thigh, pressing her back down onto the bench.
He continued to hold her there, his hand heating her flesh through
her gown. At the same time, he speared Lady Edith with an icy
look.

“The humble man provides for your
comfort, Lady Edith, and must not be disparaged. Besides, who is to
say that one is not closer to God while brewing ale than ruling a
nation? Care for another
pumpe
?”