Read Online The Betrothed Sister by Carol McGrath - Free Book Online Page B

household duties, thus the purse, keys and the scissors.
    The king’s eldest daughters, Helene and Ragnhild, directly following Lady Eleanor, glided through the outer door wearing scarlet gowns that were much too elaborate and did not suit them. They wore bright emeralds, sapphires and garnets set into rings and bracelets and sewn onto the sleeve borders of their gowns. Gunnhild and Guttorm, the younger sisters, tripped in behind their sisters, their overgowns blue as was her own, but as Thea noted, they were overly decorated with garish embroidery.
    Thea walked slowly to her assigned place at the rear of the group. The princesses knew, and she knew, too, that she outshone them all in her rich blue gown with its simple pearls and her circlet of silver and sapphires. They looked her up and down; they looked away and at each other. The eldest girl remarked, ‘Pity she is so tall.’ It was as if she was not there, a ghost girl, an intruder.
    Before they passed through the tall doors into the great feasting hall, Thea removed her circlet. She set it down on a side table in the entrance porch, unpinned the gossamer-fine veil from inside one of her sleeves and carefully placed it on her head. Replacing the silver circlet, she felt her hair fall in coils below it. The effect would be remarkable. Her delicate veil would frame her perfectly symmetrical oval face and yet it would allow her russet hair to show to advantage. As she walked forward, she glanced into the surface of a silver urn and nodded.
    Guttorm turned to her and gasped rudely, ‘What are you doing?’
    Thea smiled, knowing with not a little satisfaction that she was disobeying their father. I mark myself out, she thought. I am not prepared to be herded in front of them as if I am a slave at one of the auctions these foreigners hold in their Russian ports, though she conceded to herself that at least her Uncle Sweyn never kept slaves, since the Church disapproved vigorously of the practice. Yet this was, in effect, how they were being presented to the wealthy Russian diplomats.
    Once inside the great oak doors, her eyes were drawn to her uncle, who was seated on his great carved throne, presiding over the sumptuous hall. Today he wore a tunic of purple edged with gold embroidery, as if he was an emperor from olden years. Her eyes glided to the three Russian ambassadors seated to King Sweyn’s right beside Elizaveta. Grandmother Gytha was honoured today since she had been placed at her nephew’s left hand between him and old Bishop Vilhelm. The Bishop smiled benevolently when the five girls progressed forward. He was as fat with goodwill as he was thin and small in stature. What a bizarre way Sweyn had of marketing his daughters, parading them as if they were about to enter Noah’s ark.
    With another sweeping glance Thea noted that Ingegerd and Olaf and her brothers Edmund and Godwin and those sons of Sweyn, so many of them, too many names to remember, were seated together down the side.
    All eyes followed King Sweyn’s daughters as they glided through the centre passage between two wide-set rows of leaf-painted pillars. Thea observed that while the Danes were watching their princesses, all three pairs of diplomatic eyes were looking beyond the Danish princesses at her. She took a quick breath. Sweyn was whispering into the nearest ambassador’s ear. The ambassador nodded and looked away from her.
    Lady Eleanor led them to their places below the king’s table. Behind them hung a rich tapestry with a series of graceful ships that were embroidered with stitches of gold and silver thread, stitching that was different from the gaudy embroidery she had recently worked. These stitches glinted in the candlelight like a myriad of stars. It occurred to her that the crimson, blue and greens of this hanging were intended to become a gorgeous background for the princesses’ flowing fair hair. The daughters of Denmark held their heads