trample. After mounting, Paxton trotted th e war horse across the expanse of tiltyard toward the gallery where the royal standard of a lion against bright red silk proclaimed the king’s presence.
Cheering spectators and wavin g handkerchiefs greeted Paxton. Several women flirtatiously tossed brooches and rings toward him, and his mouth curled in a sardonic smile. Halting before the throne, he raised his lance in a salute to his king.
Edward III, regal in purple satin, rose and announced, "You acquitted yourself superbly and did well by England, Paxto n of Wychchester. The honor, valor, and chivalry that was King Arthur’s lives again. As a Round Table knight, you have taken the tourney and its grand prize.”
With that, he extended a gold garland adorned with rubies and dropped it over Paxton's lance tip. There would be other prizes awarded the knights who had proven themselves—a suit of armor, a war horse, golden spurs fashioned in Toledo, a fine saddle. But, traditionally, this prize was given by the victor to the fairest maiden of the land. More often than not it was bestowed upon a damsel for political purposes.
He cantered across the field to the opposite gallery. All eyes were upon him. Naturally, it was presumed he would offer the garland to the Countess of Montlimoux.
Instead, he stopped in front of the Lady Esclarmonde, a winsome damsel with fair skin as white as snow on ice. Better yet, she possessed wonderful malleability and, best of all, was Francis de Beauvais’s sister.
Astonishment rippled along the benches. The young woman hesitated demurely but in the end could not contain her pleasure and plucked the garland from his lance.
Dominique de Bar stared straight ahead, but a noticeable flush flowed up her neck and into her cheeks, crimsoning even those small, shell-like ears.
Regret at having to break her thus took him by surprise. He had supposed he was empty of all compassion for womankind, and women who spoke the langue d’Oc tongue at that. He shrugged away the feeling. Tonight, perforce, he would deliver the coup de grace .
CHAPTER VIII
The gala feast held at the great hall that evening rivaled any dinner Dominique had ever given. The adherents of The Laws of Saint Robert would have unanimously approved of the proper seating order for the guests.
She supposed the evening’s fete was attributable to Paxton’s largess and not Montlimoux’s revenues. It was, in her opinion, ostentatious, but then this was in honor of the Duke of Aquitaine and King of England, titles in that order of importance, which Edward himself preferred.
Essen tially, he was French by his mother, his language, and part of his possessions. It was said that he was driven by an antipathy for his father, who had been a reputed homosexual. But then it was also said that Edward was King Arthur reincarnated with his noble words and deeds and fair ladies who graced his court.
The knig hts had scarcely had time to remove their armor and wash away the dust and sweat and the ladies to freshen their toilets before the dinner commenced. Banners of various colored silks draped the tables. On each one was placed a bowl containing lavender. A considerable staff of retainers and varlets served the nobility.
The dishes were brought in by servants in full armor, mounted on caparisoned horses. Their dung in the hall infuriated Dominiq ue, and she found her hands gripping her table knife. She should have expected as much from a mere serf who aspired to rise above his station!
Incredibly, a hunting horn announced the main course that would be flambéed at the table. A roasted peacock in full plumage, stuffed with spices, rested on a mass of brown pastry, dyed green to simulate a grassy meadow.
As a lesser knight, Denys did not sit at the main table. Although she did, she was placed at its far end, with the King and Paxton installed in the p ositions of importance at the center. Esclarmonde, Queen of the Tourney, sat at Paxton's
Cheering spectators and wavin g handkerchiefs greeted Paxton. Several women flirtatiously tossed brooches and rings toward him, and his mouth curled in a sardonic smile. Halting before the throne, he raised his lance in a salute to his king.
Edward III, regal in purple satin, rose and announced, "You acquitted yourself superbly and did well by England, Paxto n of Wychchester. The honor, valor, and chivalry that was King Arthur’s lives again. As a Round Table knight, you have taken the tourney and its grand prize.”
With that, he extended a gold garland adorned with rubies and dropped it over Paxton's lance tip. There would be other prizes awarded the knights who had proven themselves—a suit of armor, a war horse, golden spurs fashioned in Toledo, a fine saddle. But, traditionally, this prize was given by the victor to the fairest maiden of the land. More often than not it was bestowed upon a damsel for political purposes.
He cantered across the field to the opposite gallery. All eyes were upon him. Naturally, it was presumed he would offer the garland to the Countess of Montlimoux.
Instead, he stopped in front of the Lady Esclarmonde, a winsome damsel with fair skin as white as snow on ice. Better yet, she possessed wonderful malleability and, best of all, was Francis de Beauvais’s sister.
Astonishment rippled along the benches. The young woman hesitated demurely but in the end could not contain her pleasure and plucked the garland from his lance.
Dominique de Bar stared straight ahead, but a noticeable flush flowed up her neck and into her cheeks, crimsoning even those small, shell-like ears.
Regret at having to break her thus took him by surprise. He had supposed he was empty of all compassion for womankind, and women who spoke the langue d’Oc tongue at that. He shrugged away the feeling. Tonight, perforce, he would deliver the coup de grace .
CHAPTER VIII
The gala feast held at the great hall that evening rivaled any dinner Dominique had ever given. The adherents of The Laws of Saint Robert would have unanimously approved of the proper seating order for the guests.
She supposed the evening’s fete was attributable to Paxton’s largess and not Montlimoux’s revenues. It was, in her opinion, ostentatious, but then this was in honor of the Duke of Aquitaine and King of England, titles in that order of importance, which Edward himself preferred.
Essen tially, he was French by his mother, his language, and part of his possessions. It was said that he was driven by an antipathy for his father, who had been a reputed homosexual. But then it was also said that Edward was King Arthur reincarnated with his noble words and deeds and fair ladies who graced his court.
The knig hts had scarcely had time to remove their armor and wash away the dust and sweat and the ladies to freshen their toilets before the dinner commenced. Banners of various colored silks draped the tables. On each one was placed a bowl containing lavender. A considerable staff of retainers and varlets served the nobility.
The dishes were brought in by servants in full armor, mounted on caparisoned horses. Their dung in the hall infuriated Dominiq ue, and she found her hands gripping her table knife. She should have expected as much from a mere serf who aspired to rise above his station!
Incredibly, a hunting horn announced the main course that would be flambéed at the table. A roasted peacock in full plumage, stuffed with spices, rested on a mass of brown pastry, dyed green to simulate a grassy meadow.
As a lesser knight, Denys did not sit at the main table. Although she did, she was placed at its far end, with the King and Paxton installed in the p ositions of importance at the center. Esclarmonde, Queen of the Tourney, sat at Paxton's
Similar Books
