Camelot's Blood (3 page)

Agravain let her lay the garment in his hands. He looked down at this product of so much labour with his closed and shallow gaze. “Again, you honour me, my lady. I thank you.” He bowed once more, and she made an answering curtsey, and then they looked at each other; the pair of them, surrounded by all the glory of Camelot's court, to be husband and wife before tomorrow was finished, and neither found a single word to say.

Blessedly, the queen broke the silence before the moment could become truly awkward. She took both Laurel's hands in hers.

“Come, Laurel, sit with us.”

So saying, Queen Guinevere led Laurel up the steps of the dais. The servants at once began their complex dance, moving the thrones back to their place of state, bringing the carved chairs for the guests who would eat at the high table. Laurel sat at the queen's right hand. Agravain sat at the king's left, after his brother, Gawain. This removal meant further conversation between them would be impossible for the length of the meal. Laurel found she was grateful for this mercy of ceremony. Becoming tongue-tied in front of the entire court had left her shamed. She sat on her softly cushioned chair in uneasy silence while the trestles and boards were brought and the richly embroidered cloths spread for the feast.

Queen Guinevere always seemed to have the gift of reading thoughts, and Laurel's were no secret to her. “Do not worry yourself,” murmured the queen, touching Laurel's hand lightly. “You will find your way.” Other ladies and their lords began to mount the dais, pausing to make their obeisance before they took their place at the high table. “Now, here is one you must meet,” said the queen, brightly. “This is the Lady Risa, wife to our Gawain.”

Lady Risa was a woman of medium stature, no longer young, but not yet to her middle years. What made her stunning was her red gold hair that hung down to her ankles, woven with gold threads and pearls. The lady looked fair and open, a good match for her husband, but there was, Laurel thought, something delicate about her, a hesitation of movement and smile, perhaps or a faded colour to her eye that made Laurel wonder if she was fully well.

“I am glad to meet you, Lady Laurel,” said Risa as she took her seat. “As we will soon be sisters, it is my great hope we will also be friends.”

The smile which accompanied these words reached Lady Risa's eyes, and Laurel dearly hoped this was not simple politeness. She needed friends in this court to which she was about to become even more intimately allied. The fact that as the wife of Sir Gawain, Lady Risa was heir to Guinevere's swan throne as Gawain was heir to Arthur's dragon, was also not to be lightly passed over.

It was high summer and all the bounty of the season was brought forth to the table to the flourish of pipe and drum. Laurel had lived before at the court, and her home was a rich one, but she had never seen such a meal. She had not thought herself to have much appetite, but was soon tempted into tasting each dish that passed her. There was partridge boiled in wine and vinegar and hare stuffed with nuts and pine kernels. The puree of lettuce and onions accompanied a dish of lentils and chestnuts flavored so strongly with cinnamon and pepper that Laurel's eyes began to water. There was also roasted suckling pig, a patina of elderberries, and a wealth of risen breads for sopping the gravies and jellies. All this was followed by honey omelets and honey cakes. Ciders, wines and ales were poured out fresh with each remove.

Lady Risa proved a good table companion. She spoke of small, light matters to which Laurel could give easy reply. They talked of the excellent food and wines, the rigours of the journey, of Laurel's time in Camelot as a waiting woman and how it compared with Risa's own. From the sound of it, little had changed. The queen remained a good, if exacting, mistress, and treated her ladies with the honour due to their various ranks, but one could still find oneself surrounded by more cackling hens than one might like.

Risa's conversation was as welcome to Laurel as her own unexpected appetite had been. The two combined to keep her from casting too many glances towards the end of the table where the lords and knights sat, trying to see Sir Agravain. What attempts she did make proved all in vain. The profiles of the queen, the king and Sir Gawain sheltered her betrothed from her inquisitive, and somewhat furtive, gaze. She could see nothing except a lean brown hand and a green sleeve reaching occasionally for his cup or portion of food.

Maddening
. Despite the sweetness of the cakes, Laurel felt her mouth pucker tartly.

A shrill twitter caught her ear. Laurel became quickly and unpleasantly aware that down the length of the tables, members of the beauteous flock of noble ladies smirked and nudged one another, making certain she knew they shared the joke made of her expression. Laurel's jaw tightened, which only produced more smiles and winks from those nearest. They touched and nudged their companions to make sure this further bit of humour traveled the length of the high table and back again. Someone let loose a fresh, trilling laugh and Laurel winced as if it pricked her skin. Risa alone maintained her countenance, although a knowing light shone in her eyes. Laurel tried not to let this evidence of suppressed humour deepen her rancour. It was at least better than the poorly smothered laughter further down the table.

With the feast now reduced to bones, rinds and crumbs, Laurel hoped, more than a little desperately, that the tables would all be cleared for the entertainment to begin in earnest. The revelers would divert at least some attention from her. She cast about quicklyfor a new conversation topic to raise with Risa. But before she lit on anything, fresh movement turned everyone's attention to the centre of the high table. Sir Kai was climbing slowly to his feet. Leaning hard on his crutch, he raised his gilded cup high.

“With the permission of our king and queen,” he bowed humbly in their direction, “let me now offer up a toast to Sir Agravain and Lady Laurel.”

Even as the cheer reverberated through the hall from all assembled. Laurel's heart sank through the floor.

How did I forget this?

No great occasion, nor any light one, passed without Sir Kai making a sport of it. His barbs and skewers had reduced more than one proud reputation to a nine-days' joke. Laurel had believed herself well-prepared for her return to court, but her careful mind had not let her consider this tiny detail. Sir Kai was sure to make one of his speeches on the theme of her marriage.

Risa touched Laurel's hand. “Endure,” she whispered. “It is expected, and soon over.”

Around her, the ladies smiled each according to their kind. Laurel saw superior sympathy, veiled anticipation, and open relish. Their knowing glances grew sharp, despite Risa's frown, and the sterner, far more regal disapproval that had taken hold in the queen's manner. Sir Kai, however, was not looking at Queen Guinevere, or Laurel, or even at Agravain. He smiled out over the court and sipped delicately at his cup, a player ready to take up a much anticipated part. All the gathering settled back. No musician reached for his instrument. Every face turned towards the seneschal.

Beneath her silken sleeves, Laurel's hands clenched until her nails dug into her palms.

Sir Kai's smile broadened, and he began.

“What grander honour could be offered to a noble woman of the queen's own country than to be given in most holy matrimony to our mighty king's own nephew?” Shouts of assent rose up. Laurel's gaze flickered to where Agravain sat. She saw nothing but his hand on the table, the fingers curled, as hers were, into a fist. For the first time, she felt a slight chord of sympathy vibrate between her and her promised husband.

Sir Kai swallowed his wine, assuming an air of thoughtfulness. “Though between the noble, varied and prolonged deeds of Sir Gawain and Sir Gareth, it's not surprising Sir Agravain had to send so far for a … suitable wife.”

Laughter rolled out warm, full and piquantly tinged. It was obviously an old joke, but still much appreciated. Even the king did not entirely suppress his smile. Gawain leaned forward so he could to roll his eyes and wink at Risa, who blew out a long sigh.

“I would hasten to reassure the bride that no deeds such as those achieved by his roving brothers are sung of Sir Agravain,” Kai went on. “Knowing that such glory is a most oppressive burden, he has sensibly shielded himself from it. Much as an oyster shields itself from sea water by never leaving its shell.”

How did Sir Agravain receive all this? Laurel could not see. She could only see the king smile benignly. The queen, on the other hand, was making an attempt at good humour, but her brows drew more closely together as Sir Kai warmed to his recitation.

“But the trifling fact that Sir Agravain has remained his usual oyster-self about both bride and wedding, has in no way stemmed the flow of wise words through our court.” Sir Kai cast an owlish glance towards Laurel. Laurel could not keep her mouth from hardening, even while she prayed her cheeks would not shame her by blushing. The ladies tittered delicately, many making a great show of attempting to decently suppress their laughter behind jewelled hands.

“It is, after all,” he continued, his voice subtly changing, both warming and sharpening, “absolutely necessary that both king and bridegroom have the finest and most learned of advisors to study such matters.”

There was a little more laughter at this, but it began to sound nervous. The glances between the ladies showed their humour growing uncertain. Laurel felt herself sit up a little straighter.

What is the man doing?

“Let me call your attention to the example of Lady Aylwen, one of our court's most tireless counsellors.” Sir Kai bowed towards a black-haired, round-faced woman with mottled skin and watery blue eyes who sat three chairs away from Risa. “By tireless exercise of her peerless wisdom, Lady Aylwen would have us all to understand, as she does, that this marriage was a love match conceived — forgive me, Lady Aylwen, perhaps one of us should have chosen a more fitting word — ” A bark of laughter went up from somewhere in the hall. “When Lady Laurel was here in Her Majesty's service. I must congratulate the lady on the keenness of this observation. So sharp is her sight, that she ferreted out the existence of a passionate affair without recourse to witness, or writing … indeed without reference to any communication of any kind between the principals that could be recalled by any other person. I am astounded!” Sir Kai laid his hand over his heart. “However, I must say, it speaks well of Lady Laurel herself. That she struggled so long and so silently against such a passion as Sir Agravain is known to arouse in all tender hearts surely speaks of a strength of character seldom known in woman or man! Ah, well. The waters are cold in the Dumonii lands. Perhaps that accounts for it.”

More laughter rippled through the court, a little darker than it had been, and touched by the slightest edge of malice. Lady Aylwen's mouth pursed so tightly her lips turned quite white.

Sir Kai paused only a heartbeat to take in this seemingly satisfactory sight. “But even more surprising were the deep observations of Lord Derryth.” The seneschal waved his cup towards a brown-bearded man in linens of fawn and ochre. “Whom I confess that I had underestimated. So rare, and so sagacious a counsellor is he that he was able to accurately calculate the whole of the price the lady had paid to be married to the high king's nephew, and to whom she had paid it, without having been privy to any one of the negotiations. I am sorry to report, too, that Lord Derryth finds her a very poor bargainer as she could obtain no better set of goods for her outpouring of wealth than Sir Agravain. Indeed, he most generously offered himself as better suited to the exquisite tastes of so rare a bride.”

Fresh mirth erupted around the hall. Lord Derryth was elbowed in the ribs as he laughed, but it was plain from his thunderous expression that the laughter was forced. The king was looking on him with a mild and interested expression. Derryth did not miss this, and instantly hid his face by downing a large quantity of wine.

“Not to be outdone in these counsels — for you know, such counsellors must ever vie with each other like knights on a festival day — Lady Moire has added her considerable wisdom to the debate.” Sir Kai gestured broadly to a bony woman with a long, needle-thin nose who sat at a table below the dais, and who had gone as white as the linen of her embroidered veil. “It is well known that when any find themselves considering matters for which no fact can be perceived by other, dimmer eyes, Lady Moire is the first who should be consulted. Where others see only air, this grave lady sees the whole of the tale pure and perfect laid out before her.

“Lady Moire tells us with absolute certainty that the bride is possessed of the power of witchcraft, and it is this that made the match, rather than the wisdom of their majesties. Witchcraft!” Kai spread his arms wide in astonishment. “The signs and symbols of that science being known so intimately to Lady Moire that she can discern them across the length of our island. Such heights of wisdom are beyond the scope of my feeble imaginations, and I am left truly humbled in her wake.” Sir Kai set his cup down and laid his hand on his breast, bowing so deeply to Lady Moire that his hair brushed the tablecloth. By the time he straightened, Moire had gone from white to red. Indeed, thought Laurel, the lady looked in danger of succumbing to apoplexy.

“Think on it, as Lady Moire did, while the rest of us sat dumb and blind. Let us now think on this same Lady Laurel, who waits so patiently here. Lady Laurel, so obviously impoverished, and so enfeebled in her temporal powers by the great peace she and her sister wrought against the king's enemies. So crabbed and unlovely is she, with such squintings and pockmarks, that she must hunch over a bowl of herbs and mumble spells in order to captivate a man so rare, so highly prized, so besieged by lovers, as is Sir Agravain!”

The whole court was in stitches now, with ladies laughing into their sleeves, knights and lords slapping each other on their backs, their guffaws ringing from the walls. Queen Guinevere did not, however, join in the general merriment. Her frown had not changed, but it was no longer directed at the seneschal. Instead, she turned her quiet, even displeasure towards the Lady Moire. Moire did not miss this and attempted to hold herself upright under the double weight of the queen's glare and the court's laughter rolling over her. King Arthur leaned close to murmur something into the queen's ear. As Guinevere bowed her head to listen, Laurel was at last able to glimpse Sir Agravain.