Suzanne Robinson (9 page)

“Have you taken ill, mistress?”

Alice was saved from a scolding when Laudine and Yolande burst into the chamber. Her plump and inviting curves clad in crimson damask, Laudine managed to look like an exotic rose from some caliph’s pleasure garden. Her features were dominated by round blue eyes the color of the sky after a spring rain. Her perpetually knowing expression was absent at the moment, banished by sheer excitement. In contrast, Yolande appeared a dancing miniature who hopped from one foot to the other with the force of her gaiety.

“Here it is, Jule,” Laudine said. “My maid finished it last night.” She tossed a gown onto Juliana’s bed. Yards
of sendal billowed out and fell to the mattress in cascades of white shot with gold and sewn with pearls. “You’re Virtue.”

Juliana’s hands froze in the midst of settling a transparent veil over her unbound hair. “What?”

“You’re Virtue.” Yolande set a caul of gold and pearls on top of the gown.

“What are you two babbling about, Laudine?”

Yolande cast a glance of dismay at Laudine. “I told you she’d be like this.”

“The siege. Praise be to Our Lady of Mercies. Do you purpose to tell me you’ve forgotten the siege?” Laudine folded her arms under her generous chest and shook her head. “The order of the tournament. Remember? I reminded you yestere’en. First the jousts, then the mêlée, and on the third day, the siege of the Castle of Love and Beauty.” Laudine patted the golden braids looped over her ears. “No doubt I’ll be the Queen of Love and Beauty and thus command the castle.”

Juliana groaned as she bent to allow Alice to set a silver filet on her head over the veil. “I’d forgotten.”

“Now don’t say you’re going to Vyne Hill,” Laudine said. “You promised you’d attend all three days of the tournament, and we’ve already chosen our guises. If you don’t play Virtue, I might have to, and I have my heart set on being Desire.” Laudine’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “My gown is the color of rubies.”

“Don’t you ever think of anything but how to torture men by arousing their lust?”

“Of course I do, but nothing else is so entertaining.” Laudine grinned at Juliana and waggled her eyebrows up and down. Juliana tried to look severe, but ended up giggling, which caused Laudine to pause and stare. She surveyed the rich gown, the filet of silver, and raised her
brows. “Mmm, mmm, mmm. Someone’s going hunting today. How unlike you, sister.”

Making haste to distract, Juliana said, “What of this siege?”

“Ah!” Yolande clapped her hands. “Your father has caused a mock castle to be built, and we ladies are to defend it. Now do you recall? Bertrade will portray Chastity, I am Honor. Then there are Humility and Pride and, oh, many others. The winner of the tournament will lead the knights in siege and try to take the castle.” Yolande put her fingertips to her lips and giggled. “We’re going to pelt them with cakes and flowers, and try to defend against them. But not too well, of course, or my lord de Val—er—the men won’t be able to get to us.”

“Of course,” Juliana said faintly. For a moment she’d forgotten the mock siege, and about Yolande. Yolande didn’t know what had happened last night between her and Gray. She didn’t know about his promise. If Juliana took part in the siege, Gray de Valence might besiege
her
. Ignoring the tingle of excitement that shot through her, she listened to Laudine continue to scold.

“Now, Jule, you’ve already embarrassed Father and Mother by vanishing last night. You missed the viewing of the great helms.”

Before a tournament, the helms of the participants were placed on display with all their fanciful headdresses. Everyone inspected them, and any lady who wished could stand before that of a particular knight and denounce him for an unchivalrous act. Laudine was in the habit of making up fantastical tales about some poor knight and forcing him to go on his knees before her and beg forgiveness.

“At least you’ve kept your promise to come today,” Laudine said. “What are you doing?”

Ignoring Laudine’s and Yolande’s stares, Juliana
opened the ivory casket Alice had brought to her. Removing a top tray, she sorted through jewelry until she found her silver girdle. She hesitated, then drew out a heavy silver brooch in the shape of a garland and studded with amethysts. The dark green overgown scooped at the neck and then cut down the center of her chest to reveal the pale green garment beneath. She used the brooch to pin the edges of her undertunic at the neck where it slit into a vee just over her breasts. Looking up, she found Laudine staring at her.

“Holy saints!”

Juliana reddened. “What?”

“You’ve a lover.” Laudine covered her mouth with her hands and giggled. “At last, Juliana has a lover.”

“She has?” said Yolande, aghast.

Juliana drew herself up and looked down her nose at the two. “I do not.”

“But you’re coming to the tournament,” Yolande said.

“I have promised.”

Laudine laughed. “And you’re coming to the siege. I know it.”

“Verily,” Juliana said through stiff lips and with stilted dignity. “I have promised it, and I always fulfill my promises.”

Laudine scampered around the bed and grabbed Juliana’s arm while she danced a little step of excitement.

“Who is he? Who is he?”

It was impossible to remain quietly dignified when one’s sister was tugging one’s arm and Yolande was hopping in front of one. Juliana’s body jerked with each tug until she yanked free and scurried out of Laudine’s reach and bellowed.

“Thunder of God!”

Laudine stopped giggling. Yolande thrust her hands
behind her back and gawked at her, lips twitching with merriment.

Juliana refused to look at her boisterous and irritating sister or her small minion. She went to a chest and began sorting through kerchiefs.

“There is no lover.”

“Then why are you searching for a kerchief to give as a favor?” Laudine asked.

“Just because I carry a kerchief—”

“You never carry kerchiefs,” Yolande said. “You always forget them.”

She found her best cloth-of-silver kerchief and slammed the lid of the chest. “I do not.”

“Do too,” Laudine said.

“Do not—aaarrgh! Laudine, enough of this madness. We’ll be late.”

“Oh, I’ve forgotten my own kerchief,” Yolande said. “I must fetch it quickly.”

She rushed out of the chamber, much to Juliana’s relief. She still felt guilty for having gained de Valence’s interest even if she hadn’t intended to do it. Laudine snickered at her as Alice came forward to offer a light mantle of green that matched her gown. Juliana took it and stalked to her chamber door.

Laudine hurried to her side and gave her a sidelong glance. “You’ll be sitting with us in the lodges this time, then?”

“Of course.”

“Certes, you do have a lover,” said Laudine.

Throwing up her hands, Juliana noticed the silver kerchief and concealed it in the folds of her cloak. “Why do you say so?”

“Because, sweet sister, when you promised to come to this tournament, you vowed before the whole family that you’d stand behind the palisade with the farmers, shepherds,
and vendors, and that it would be the Last Judgment before you’d sit among us gaudy, simpering pigeons and flutter and coo at every knight who rode by.”

Juliana lifted her skirts as she preceded her sister down the tower stair. In a faint voice she said, “Verily, I don’t remember saying such a thing, and anyway, someone has to sit with you and prevent you from casting your pelisson and undertunic at some pretty man.”

“Good,” Laudine replied. “If you’re by my side, I’ll be sure to see which brave and fearless knight has dared to beg for your favor, Juliana Welles. He must be valiant, full of courage, and right beauteous to set your heart aquiver.”

“I am not aquiver.”

“Now who could that be? Most of the knights here never impressed you before. Who is new and pretty among them?”

“By God’s mercy, you’ve turned fanciful. You’re the one who gives favors to every knight who looks your way. How many have you given this time?”

Juliana held her breath, hoping that she’d distracted her sister.

“Five,” Laudine said with pride.

“Thunder of God. Five? Who are they?”

As Laudine named her suitors, Juliana felt a wave of relief. After her rejection at the hands of Edmund Strange, she’d vowed never to chance another humiliating rejection. But she hadn’t ever imagined encountering someone like Gray de Valence.

He had stirred her, and what was wondrous was that she knew she’d stirred him. Such a thing had never happened to her. She was unsure, but the warmth that had burst in her heart at the thought of his promise wouldn’t leave her. She had tried to reject what she felt and the timorous hope she still refused to put into words. No, she
couldn’t admit it to herself. So how could she speak of it, even to Laudine?

Better to wait until Gray de Valence stopped before her in the lists and dropped his lance for her favor. Then she would admit hope. Then she would smile openly. And then she would speak his name.

JULIANA WALKED BETWEEN YOLANDE AND Laudine and behind her mother in the parade of ladies headed for the lists. Bertrade trailed behind with several of her friends while more visiting ladies followed. Havisia was too burdened with playing hostess to the Countess of Uvedale and other senior noblewomen to pay attention to her daughters. Thus Laudine could make free with earthy jests without fear of censure. Smiles and laughter issued from the group surrounding Laudine and washed down the line of women in ripples and waves of humor. In spite of her slight feeling of guilt, Juliana’s spirits were as high as the pointed tops of the Wellesbrooke towers.

They progressed over the drawbridge at a stately pace past crowds of lesser folk who had gathered for the spectacle. Cheers went up at the sight of the ladies adorned in their richest garments. Every peasant within walking distance of Wellesbrooke had come to see the display their lord and his family and guests provided and partake of their generosity—both of food and largesse.

At first Juliana was too engrossed in anticipation of the form of Gray de Valence’s repayment to pay attention to her surroundings, but as they neared the exercise ground that had been transformed for the tournament, she began to take note of the scene. A double wooden palisade marked the perimeter of the lists, the outer of which was shoulder-high. The inner contained many gaps, and between
the two was the space where squires, spare horses and armor, attendants and heralds stayed. Already a noisy multitude of humbler tournament onlookers had surrounded the outer palisade.

Along one side of the rectangle formed by the palisades a series of lodges had been erected. Shaded by brilliant canopies, with carpets on the flooring and dazzling with multihued pennants, these were the destination of the ladies. The Welles family and their ranking guests would occupy the central lodge.

In the distance, Juliana could hear her father’s heralds calling out among the avenues of tents, “Jousters make ready!”

As she mounted the steps to the central lodge, she saw dozens of squires and other servants racing back and forth carrying chain mail, lances, even hourts, the protective padding worn around the neck of a destrier. As the eldest daughter, she followed the Countess of Uvedale and other highborn ladies and took her seat on the front bench set beside the chairs provided for the older women. Yolande sat beside her while Laudine sat next to the heiress.

Her mother happened to glance her way and gave her a look of wild surmise. Juliana avoided her mother’s eyes. Only a few days ago she’d ranted about having to be in the lodges and threatened to sit in the back row of benches with the youngest demoiselles and the maids.

A stir went up from the lodges when the six camp marshals appeared in the lists with Hugo at their head. Dressed in surcoats of fine damask and silk, they were followed by heralds and pursuivants who would assist them in judging the tournament. Behind them came the lower sergeants and varlets whose task it was to keep order, bring new weapons and clear away broken ones, and to rescue fallen knights.

For the first time in years Juliana’s excitement almost made her wriggle in her seat. She could barely contain her impatience for the beginning ceremonies, and didn’t listen to her father’s speech at all. She did hear the blare of trumpets that announced the procession of contestants. Her spirits soared with the strength of the cheers from the onlookers.

A forest of lances appeared—marching two by two—decorated with ladies’ sleeves, kerchiefs, scarves, ribbons, and stockings. At the head of the procession rode the knights of highest rank, Javain de Marlow, Earl of Ravensford, and the Sieur de Valence. Next came Vail D’evereux, Baron of Durance Garde, and Sir Robert Beckington, followed by Richard Welles and Simon Reynolds, Baron of Green Rising.

Juliana saw none of them, only Gray de Valence. Resplendent in an emerald-green surcoat emblazoned with the de Valence dragon in gold, he rode with his helmet under his arm and his lance aloft. From it streamed a sleeve of azure silk, several scarves, and a stocking. Juliana scowled momentarily, for she recognized that stocking. It was Laudine’s. She cast a glance of concupiscent irritation at Laudine, but her sister was leering at another of her suitors.