Young King joined the women to watch the display. Ida’s stomach performed acrobatics of its own as Roger Bigod and William Marshal followed in his wake. Roger briefly met her gaze and courteously inclined his head to her and the other women.
“What do you think, my lord Bigod?” Ida asked, using the moment of eye contact. “Are they not skilled?”
“Indeed so, demoiselle. I wish I was as supple.”
“You are when you are on a horse, my lord.”
He gave a rueful smile. “That is hardly the same. I would need to be boneless to do some of those things.”
Ida longed to touch his arm and make a playful comment, but she dared not when they were in the midst of such public scrutiny.
William Marshal walked up to the arrangement of poles and ropes and eyed them thoughtfully. He was so tall that he could touch them just by stretching his arm.
“Go on, Marshal!” urged the Young King. “I dare you! Let’s see how good you are!”
William laughed round at his lord. “Have you ever known me to refuse a dare, sire?” He dusted his hands in the earthenware dish of chalk the acrobats were using to improve their grip before grasping one of the dangling poles and hoisting himself up hand over hand.
The acrobat with the blue ribbons—the leader of the troupe—knew a golden opportunity when it arose and milked William’s participation for all it was worth. Watching the Young King’s marshal hang upside down from one of the rods, like a bat in a roost, Ida began to laugh until she was holding her sides. Although the knight was tall and powerfully built, he was athletic and muscular too—if not exactly boneless. In fact, she had seldom seen anyone more real and solid. At her side, Roger chuckled and relaxed, leaning towards her a little so that their shoulders almost touched. “Now you see why he’s so successful in the tourneys,” he said. “And at court.”
“Indeed, but it seems to me hazardous too.”
“He would call it no more than meeting a challenge; he thrives on it.”
“And if someone challenged you?” Ida asked mischievously.
She was briefly caught in the intensity of his sea-wash stare. “It would depend on the challenge,” he replied, then looked away and with a shout of amusement began to clap as the leader of the acrobats had William grip a flat board in his teeth and began balancing some small blue cups to left and right. “I would hope myself up to it.”
The last cup was placed on the board and the player flourished to his audience, who applauded, whistled, and cheered their appreciation. Cups and board were removed and William, scarlet in the face, somersaulted to the ground. Grinning broadly, showing off the fine white teeth and strong jaw that had served him so well, he accepted the acclaim with deep bows and hand gestures. The Young King clapped William heartily across the back and pressed a cup of wine into his chalk-powdered hand. Several women crowded forward, including Princess Alais, but not Marguerite, who hung back. Ida recognised the look in her eyes as she watched the Marshal, and it gave her pause for thought.
The laughter ceased as the King joined the group and everyone bowed. “Your talents are many, Messire Marshal,” Henry said. His tone was pleasant, but Ida sensed his tension. He had been on edge ever since his eldest son had arrived at court. The undercurrents were so strong that everyone was working hard just to tread water. “I can well see the skills for which my son values you.”
William Marshal bowed more deeply and smiled. “I am accustomed to hanging on by the skin of my teeth, sire.”
Henry grunted with reluctant humour. “I am sure you are,” he replied. “And being given enough rope too.” He gestured to the gathering as a whole. “I desire a word with my son, but pray continue to amuse yourselves.” His glance fell upon Ida where she stood at Roger’s side. “Mistress de Tosney, I would speak with you too, if you will attend on me
“What do you think, my lord Bigod?” Ida asked, using the moment of eye contact. “Are they not skilled?”
“Indeed so, demoiselle. I wish I was as supple.”
“You are when you are on a horse, my lord.”
He gave a rueful smile. “That is hardly the same. I would need to be boneless to do some of those things.”
Ida longed to touch his arm and make a playful comment, but she dared not when they were in the midst of such public scrutiny.
William Marshal walked up to the arrangement of poles and ropes and eyed them thoughtfully. He was so tall that he could touch them just by stretching his arm.
“Go on, Marshal!” urged the Young King. “I dare you! Let’s see how good you are!”
William laughed round at his lord. “Have you ever known me to refuse a dare, sire?” He dusted his hands in the earthenware dish of chalk the acrobats were using to improve their grip before grasping one of the dangling poles and hoisting himself up hand over hand.
The acrobat with the blue ribbons—the leader of the troupe—knew a golden opportunity when it arose and milked William’s participation for all it was worth. Watching the Young King’s marshal hang upside down from one of the rods, like a bat in a roost, Ida began to laugh until she was holding her sides. Although the knight was tall and powerfully built, he was athletic and muscular too—if not exactly boneless. In fact, she had seldom seen anyone more real and solid. At her side, Roger chuckled and relaxed, leaning towards her a little so that their shoulders almost touched. “Now you see why he’s so successful in the tourneys,” he said. “And at court.”
“Indeed, but it seems to me hazardous too.”
“He would call it no more than meeting a challenge; he thrives on it.”
“And if someone challenged you?” Ida asked mischievously.
She was briefly caught in the intensity of his sea-wash stare. “It would depend on the challenge,” he replied, then looked away and with a shout of amusement began to clap as the leader of the acrobats had William grip a flat board in his teeth and began balancing some small blue cups to left and right. “I would hope myself up to it.”
The last cup was placed on the board and the player flourished to his audience, who applauded, whistled, and cheered their appreciation. Cups and board were removed and William, scarlet in the face, somersaulted to the ground. Grinning broadly, showing off the fine white teeth and strong jaw that had served him so well, he accepted the acclaim with deep bows and hand gestures. The Young King clapped William heartily across the back and pressed a cup of wine into his chalk-powdered hand. Several women crowded forward, including Princess Alais, but not Marguerite, who hung back. Ida recognised the look in her eyes as she watched the Marshal, and it gave her pause for thought.
The laughter ceased as the King joined the group and everyone bowed. “Your talents are many, Messire Marshal,” Henry said. His tone was pleasant, but Ida sensed his tension. He had been on edge ever since his eldest son had arrived at court. The undercurrents were so strong that everyone was working hard just to tread water. “I can well see the skills for which my son values you.”
William Marshal bowed more deeply and smiled. “I am accustomed to hanging on by the skin of my teeth, sire.”
Henry grunted with reluctant humour. “I am sure you are,” he replied. “And being given enough rope too.” He gestured to the gathering as a whole. “I desire a word with my son, but pray continue to amuse yourselves.” His glance fell upon Ida where she stood at Roger’s side. “Mistress de Tosney, I would speak with you too, if you will attend on me
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