lumpy soap that smelled of lemons. “She was drunk. You know she will not remember what she said and by morning will be wondering where you are. You are her favorite. You know that. Are you sure you must leave?”
Gisella nodded faintly, glancing at her petite, very lovely friend with the glorious blond hair. “Aye,” she replied. “She ordered me away and then Gloucester brought in his priest to perform the marriage sacrament. You know that priest, the one who beats the acolytes and no one does anything about it. He is a very nasty man and I dislike him intensely.”
Sparrow nodded as she finished tucking the soap into the smaller capcase. “Father Joseph of Orange,” she said. “I know him. He really performed the marriage sacrament?”
Gisella thought back to the very odd, very swift marriage ceremony conducted in Gloucester’s solar with those pounded silver suns on the ceiling smiling down at them. Smelling of horse dung and dressed in a torn costume, she was forced to stand next to de Russe, who smelled unwashed himself, as the priest with the stained robes and big, bulbous nose performed the marriage mass.
It had been a quick, almost callous mass, nothing like the weddings she had attended in the past and certainly not like a wedding she had hoped for herself. There had been no meaning to it, no emotion. Nothing about it had been personal or spiritual and when it was over, she was what she never wanted to be. She was Lady de Russe.
All she could manage to feel at that moment was empty. No joy, no pleasure. Somehow, something had been stripped away from her and she had become something, and someone, she did not want. She was the wife of a great warlord, something she had resisted until the bitter end. Gloucester had congratulated her before leaving the solar with his priest, leaving her standing there in awkward silence with her new husband and his two knights, one of which was her brother.
De Russe had barely spoken a word to her before turning her over to her brother as he fled with his other knight, leaving the two siblings standing alone in that cold silver room with the cold silver suns. That which they had both feared had come to pass but there was no use talking about it. It was done.
Therefore, Gannon had been kind but businesslike, escorting his sister to her shared chamber and instructing her to bathe and pack. He gave her a couple of hours and told her he would be back for her by midnight. Now, that hour was swiftly approaching and Gisella was struggling to pack even with Sparrow’s considerable help. When this should have been the most exciting night of her life, all she could feel was dread.
“Gigi?” Sparrow asked softly. “Did you hear me? Did the priest really perform the marriage mass?”
Gisella realized she hadn’t answered her friend the first time, lost in her recollections of the evening as she was. After a moment, she nodded.
“He did,” she said, sounding depressed. “I am now Lady de Russe.”
Sparrow regarded her friend. She, too, had been part of the performance in the great hall and had seen the fiasco caused by the nervous horse. When the horse had fled and the diners began wandering away, Sparrow had spied a pale-appearing Gisella being escorted by a tall, handsome knight who turned out to be her brother. When she ran to Gisella to see what the matter was, Gisella’s brother gave a brief summary of the evening’s events because Gisella seemed too upset to speak.
After that, Sparrow had accompanied them back to their shared bedchamber and once Gisella’s brother had departed, she had received even more of an explanation from Gisella once the woman had sufficiently calmed. It had been a shocking and somber tale.
So she had helped Gisella bathe and clean the horse dung from her hair, and then she had helped the woman dress in a dark blue woolen traveling dress that was both warm and practical. It had a snug bodice with a corded belt looped around her tiny waist,
Gisella nodded faintly, glancing at her petite, very lovely friend with the glorious blond hair. “Aye,” she replied. “She ordered me away and then Gloucester brought in his priest to perform the marriage sacrament. You know that priest, the one who beats the acolytes and no one does anything about it. He is a very nasty man and I dislike him intensely.”
Sparrow nodded as she finished tucking the soap into the smaller capcase. “Father Joseph of Orange,” she said. “I know him. He really performed the marriage sacrament?”
Gisella thought back to the very odd, very swift marriage ceremony conducted in Gloucester’s solar with those pounded silver suns on the ceiling smiling down at them. Smelling of horse dung and dressed in a torn costume, she was forced to stand next to de Russe, who smelled unwashed himself, as the priest with the stained robes and big, bulbous nose performed the marriage mass.
It had been a quick, almost callous mass, nothing like the weddings she had attended in the past and certainly not like a wedding she had hoped for herself. There had been no meaning to it, no emotion. Nothing about it had been personal or spiritual and when it was over, she was what she never wanted to be. She was Lady de Russe.
All she could manage to feel at that moment was empty. No joy, no pleasure. Somehow, something had been stripped away from her and she had become something, and someone, she did not want. She was the wife of a great warlord, something she had resisted until the bitter end. Gloucester had congratulated her before leaving the solar with his priest, leaving her standing there in awkward silence with her new husband and his two knights, one of which was her brother.
De Russe had barely spoken a word to her before turning her over to her brother as he fled with his other knight, leaving the two siblings standing alone in that cold silver room with the cold silver suns. That which they had both feared had come to pass but there was no use talking about it. It was done.
Therefore, Gannon had been kind but businesslike, escorting his sister to her shared chamber and instructing her to bathe and pack. He gave her a couple of hours and told her he would be back for her by midnight. Now, that hour was swiftly approaching and Gisella was struggling to pack even with Sparrow’s considerable help. When this should have been the most exciting night of her life, all she could feel was dread.
“Gigi?” Sparrow asked softly. “Did you hear me? Did the priest really perform the marriage mass?”
Gisella realized she hadn’t answered her friend the first time, lost in her recollections of the evening as she was. After a moment, she nodded.
“He did,” she said, sounding depressed. “I am now Lady de Russe.”
Sparrow regarded her friend. She, too, had been part of the performance in the great hall and had seen the fiasco caused by the nervous horse. When the horse had fled and the diners began wandering away, Sparrow had spied a pale-appearing Gisella being escorted by a tall, handsome knight who turned out to be her brother. When she ran to Gisella to see what the matter was, Gisella’s brother gave a brief summary of the evening’s events because Gisella seemed too upset to speak.
After that, Sparrow had accompanied them back to their shared bedchamber and once Gisella’s brother had departed, she had received even more of an explanation from Gisella once the woman had sufficiently calmed. It had been a shocking and somber tale.
So she had helped Gisella bathe and clean the horse dung from her hair, and then she had helped the woman dress in a dark blue woolen traveling dress that was both warm and practical. It had a snug bodice with a corded belt looped around her tiny waist,
Similar Books
