unease,
but already it seemed less of a problem.
“It was something the king desired I do,” he said softly, “but
now is no time to talk of it.”
“No, indeed,” Alys agreed promptly. There was a good deal of
noise, but Henry was close behind them. “Only, must you answer him at once?”
“I do not know that I need answer more than I have, but it
is not the answering I fear. It is what takes shape in his own mind.”
“How wise you are,” Alys said softly, “but if I hang on you,
which is not unreasonable during this time, he will say no more.”
“And I will have much pleasure.” Raymond’s eyes gleamed. “I
give you leave to hang on me every day, here and elsewhere.”
Alys had forgotten her shyness, but the glitter of her
husband’s eyes brought it all back. She blushed deliciously and hung her head.
This naturally inspired Raymond to further teasing. For the first time in her
life, Alys had no smart replies, finding herself as tongue-tied as any girl who
had never met her husband before the day of her marriage. How long the sweet
modesty would have lasted under continued provocation was questionable, but
they had reached the keep and were greeted with fanfares, which made either
teasing or reply impossible until they were seated at the tables.
Concern for the dishes wiped out any other consideration in
Alys’s mind for a time, but she need not have worried. Each group of cooks had
outdone itself to make its particular portion of the dinner more succulent and
savory than that of any other group.
First came the boars’ heads, mouths propped open to show
tusks and tongues, decorated with curls of pastry. The servant carrying this
dish was flanked by two others, one bearing the whole haunch of an ox, swimming
in a sharp sauce, and the other a rich pudding, spicy-sweet with nuts and
raisins. A second set of servants followed with baked swans, roast capons, and
pheasants, the swans and pheasants dressed in their own outer feathers. The
third triad bore fish, baked sturgeon, boiled pike, and eels in jelly.
Good humor lent good appetite also, especially at the high
table where each couple was content both with one another and with their
neighbors. Eyes gleamed as each pointed to what he or she wanted. Squires in
their lord’s colors served, and pages, also brightly dressed, ran to and fro
carrying portions to be laid upon trenchers and—the height of elegance—upon
silver plates. The butlers, King Henry’s and Earl Richard’s, poured the wine
into golden and, equally precious, glass goblets. The fanfares that had
accompanied the serving of the dishes quieted into more gentle music of lute
and psaltery as health, long life, and many sons were wished for the bride and
groom. Then all gave their attention to the food.
Delicious food makes stuffing inevitable; stuffing brings
repletion. When the sound of conversation rose to a deafening level, the
trumpets called again to herald the arrival of the first subtlety. Winter
Wedding , it was called, a towering confection of pastry and crystallized
honey, depicting the wedding party before the church doors. It was carried
right around the hall for each table to see and enjoy before it was placed on a
sideboard. At the end of the dinner, all four subtleties would be compared and
praised, broken up, and distributed among the guests. Now the minstrels in the
gallery struck up a livelier time, servitors scrambled to clear the center of
the great hall, and the bride and groom rose to head the dance. In deference to
full stomachs, the stately danse au chapelet came first, Raymond raising
cheers and stampings when he kissed Alys on her lips rather than decorously on
the cheek as required.
The king and queen then led la gaillarde , and food
having been reasonably well digested at this point, the musicians struck up a tourdion. Older couples hastily retreated to their seats while the younger closed ranks.
The wild whirling, stamping, and leaping was for those with
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