shocked voice.
“He will tonight. Your emeralds will be lucky for you.”
“Joan, you are so wicked,” said Brianna, but she laughed and her eyes sparkled brighter than her jewels.
In the hall, Princess Isabel beckoned them imperiously. “Edward is taking me hawking tomorrow. I will need you both an hour early.”
Joan had seen no trace of Edward all day, though she had watched for him. She was wise to Isabel’s tricks though, and knew she would exclude Joan and Brianna from the hawking if she could.
Queen Philippa had come to the Banqueting Hall tonight and the king gave her his undivided attention. They shared a silver porringer, laughing and talking throughout the entire meal.
Princess Isabel’s mouth was sulky because she wasn’t thecenter of attention tonight. Neither Prince Edward nor Prince Lionel was on the dais, both choosing instead to sit with their men.
Prince John of Gaunt coolly ignored his sister so that she would not engage him in conversation. Though he was only a boy, he was Isabel’s intellectual superior.
Joan felt a pang of disappointment at not being able to flirt with Edward, but was soon distracted when she spied Robert Beauchamp beside Prince Lionel. Joan nudged Brianna. “He’s looking at you.”
Brianna whispered, “I don’t think he is. He’s looking at someone behind us.”
Joan watched more closely, then her gaze traveled over the other diners. “As a matter of fact, everyone’s looking behind us. I wonder why? Oh, you don’t suppose it could be the Arabian?”
Brianna hardly heard her. She was watching Robert. His eyes were narrowed. He drank cup for cup with Prince Lionel. Robert nearly always laughed. Tonight he did not.
Queen Philippa had her own minstrel this evening who sang some lovely ballads in Flemish. Because she did not wish to sit too long, she retired early, taking the king with her.
When Joan and Brianna stood up, they looked down the hall behind them. There was a crowd of men gathered about the prince in deep conversation so they moved off into the gallery.
It wasn’t long before Robert de Beauchamp sought Brianna.
“Good even, my lord,” she managed shyly.
Joan decided to help the courtship along. “Brianna was just about to show me her parchments that the queen has put on display right here in the gallery.”
“Oh, please, no.” Brianna suddenly found her voice.
“Don’t be so modest. I’m sure Robert would love to see how talented you are.”
Brianna marveled at Joan’s easy manner. She had no difficulty calling him Robert. The leather-bound parchments had been placed on a reading stand beneath the gallery’s stained-glass oriel window. They told the legend of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. She hadilluminated all the capital letters in gold and accompanying the script were delicately painted illustrations of his sword, Excalibur, Merlin the Wizard, and Queen Guinevere.
As Robert de Beauchamp looked at the parchments, a frown came between his brows. “You write?” he asked Brianna. His tone of voice was accusatory.
Joan immediately realized her mistake. “Ah, I take it you do not, my lord.”
He laughed derisively. “Writing is unmanly. ’Tis a task for clerks and priests.”
Brianna felt a sharp stab of disappointment that she could not conceal. When he saw the look of dismay on her lovely face, he said hurriedly, “I have no objection to your little pastime, if it amuses you.”
Brianna bit her tongue. She must not get off on the wrong foot with her future husband or she would have no husband at all. She glanced up at him and was alarmed at the look of purest black hatred, but it was so fleeting she thought she might have imagined it. She turned to see who or what had provoked such emotion. Suddenly a hush fell all about her. Time slowed down so that everything seemed to take on a dreamlike quality.
Two men approached, but she did not even glance at Prince Edward. Her eyes were drawn to the dark man at
“He will tonight. Your emeralds will be lucky for you.”
“Joan, you are so wicked,” said Brianna, but she laughed and her eyes sparkled brighter than her jewels.
In the hall, Princess Isabel beckoned them imperiously. “Edward is taking me hawking tomorrow. I will need you both an hour early.”
Joan had seen no trace of Edward all day, though she had watched for him. She was wise to Isabel’s tricks though, and knew she would exclude Joan and Brianna from the hawking if she could.
Queen Philippa had come to the Banqueting Hall tonight and the king gave her his undivided attention. They shared a silver porringer, laughing and talking throughout the entire meal.
Princess Isabel’s mouth was sulky because she wasn’t thecenter of attention tonight. Neither Prince Edward nor Prince Lionel was on the dais, both choosing instead to sit with their men.
Prince John of Gaunt coolly ignored his sister so that she would not engage him in conversation. Though he was only a boy, he was Isabel’s intellectual superior.
Joan felt a pang of disappointment at not being able to flirt with Edward, but was soon distracted when she spied Robert Beauchamp beside Prince Lionel. Joan nudged Brianna. “He’s looking at you.”
Brianna whispered, “I don’t think he is. He’s looking at someone behind us.”
Joan watched more closely, then her gaze traveled over the other diners. “As a matter of fact, everyone’s looking behind us. I wonder why? Oh, you don’t suppose it could be the Arabian?”
Brianna hardly heard her. She was watching Robert. His eyes were narrowed. He drank cup for cup with Prince Lionel. Robert nearly always laughed. Tonight he did not.
Queen Philippa had her own minstrel this evening who sang some lovely ballads in Flemish. Because she did not wish to sit too long, she retired early, taking the king with her.
When Joan and Brianna stood up, they looked down the hall behind them. There was a crowd of men gathered about the prince in deep conversation so they moved off into the gallery.
It wasn’t long before Robert de Beauchamp sought Brianna.
“Good even, my lord,” she managed shyly.
Joan decided to help the courtship along. “Brianna was just about to show me her parchments that the queen has put on display right here in the gallery.”
“Oh, please, no.” Brianna suddenly found her voice.
“Don’t be so modest. I’m sure Robert would love to see how talented you are.”
Brianna marveled at Joan’s easy manner. She had no difficulty calling him Robert. The leather-bound parchments had been placed on a reading stand beneath the gallery’s stained-glass oriel window. They told the legend of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. She hadilluminated all the capital letters in gold and accompanying the script were delicately painted illustrations of his sword, Excalibur, Merlin the Wizard, and Queen Guinevere.
As Robert de Beauchamp looked at the parchments, a frown came between his brows. “You write?” he asked Brianna. His tone of voice was accusatory.
Joan immediately realized her mistake. “Ah, I take it you do not, my lord.”
He laughed derisively. “Writing is unmanly. ’Tis a task for clerks and priests.”
Brianna felt a sharp stab of disappointment that she could not conceal. When he saw the look of dismay on her lovely face, he said hurriedly, “I have no objection to your little pastime, if it amuses you.”
Brianna bit her tongue. She must not get off on the wrong foot with her future husband or she would have no husband at all. She glanced up at him and was alarmed at the look of purest black hatred, but it was so fleeting she thought she might have imagined it. She turned to see who or what had provoked such emotion. Suddenly a hush fell all about her. Time slowed down so that everything seemed to take on a dreamlike quality.
Two men approached, but she did not even glance at Prince Edward. Her eyes were drawn to the dark man at
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