Read Online The Honor Due a King by N. Gemini Sasson - Free Book Online
Authors: N. Gemini Sasson
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like to say this is all in celebration of our homecoming, but somehow I doubt so. God’s rotten teeth, this place is overflowing and smelling of armpits and manure. Is that ...?” Suddenly he ducked behind me, lowering his voice to a mumble. “Mother Mary, it is him. I should have veered off to Galloway when we passed by. Excuse me, but I need to disappear. I just saw someone who might still be a wee bit cross with me for a meaningless little dalliance I had with his sister.”
I looked about, but it was impossible to tell who among the crowd he was referring to. “When do you have time, Edward?”
“My good man, I make time for pleasures. And I recommend you do the same. Life is meant for living. Now, shouldn’t you go find her?”
We had not spoken any more of Marjorie since that morning several weeks ago outside Kirkwold. In fact, I had managed to ignore Edward quite well since then. He dashed behind a pair of sweating men, who were lugging slabs of salted meat on their backs, and disappeared just as he had promised.
I wove through the bustle of bodies and went up the steps into the hall. Being an unusually warm day for mid-February, the opportunity to air the hall of its sooty odor had been seized and the doors thrust wide. The floors had been scrubbed with copious buckets of vinegar water and the smell stung at my eyes. Already, they were bringing in fresh rushes and dried herbs to lay down.
“James!” Randolph called through the crowd, thrusting a hand above his head.
I made my way to him and we clasped hands heartily. There was something different about him ... Ah, his appearance. Gone were the sensible clothes and armored trappings of a soldier; they had been replaced by a statesman’s attire: a slate-colored tunic that hung to just above his ankles, its tight-fitting sleeves lined with buttons from wrist to elbow, and over it a dagged edge quintise of light blue.
I pointed to his tapering shoes. “Those look entirely impractical.”
“My wife,” he said, his lip curling ever so slightly, “has become quite enamored of court life and thinks I should look the part. The enthusiasm is not mutual, I assure you. This morning I tripped twice. Ah, but tell me, James. Did it go well? You’re unscathed, I hope.” He snapped his fingers at a passing cook and peeled off a list of items to be checked. Indignant, the cook gave answer that everything was in good order and strutted off.
“Sorry,” Randolph said, turning his attention back to me. “There is so much to do and people pouring in every minute, begging for lodgings. I recall, at no time, any of this ever being written among my duties. The queen attempted to oversee it all at first, but she hadn’t the stamina for it.”
“What’s this all for?”
“You haven’t heard? A betrothal. Walter Stewart and Marjorie Bruce, no less.” His smile brightened, while mine slipped away.
So it was true, what Edward said. I had wanted to believe it was only talk, that nothing would come of it. Or maybe that Edward was merely tormenting me for sport.
Randolph grasped my shoulder as if to steady me. “Are you all right, James? You look a bit down in the mouth.”
I rubbed at my back, feigning an ache. “Just in need of a bed, is all. I say you’ve too much energy.”
“Too many responsibilities, more like. I should learn to delegate. Perhaps you’d like to organize the menu? Then again, maybe not. You’d be content with watered ale, stale bannocks, and a pot of venison stew without so much as a pinch of pepper.” Randolph cuffed me on the side of the head hard enough to make my ears rings. “You’ll tell me about the campaign when you’re rested?”
“Aye, I will.”
“Good, I’d much rather hear how you sent the English running in fright than spend one more hour” – he waved a hand in the air – “overseeing this . Between the two of us, I’ll be happy when it’s over.”
I, however, could not say the same.
***
T he feast
I looked about, but it was impossible to tell who among the crowd he was referring to. “When do you have time, Edward?”
“My good man, I make time for pleasures. And I recommend you do the same. Life is meant for living. Now, shouldn’t you go find her?”
We had not spoken any more of Marjorie since that morning several weeks ago outside Kirkwold. In fact, I had managed to ignore Edward quite well since then. He dashed behind a pair of sweating men, who were lugging slabs of salted meat on their backs, and disappeared just as he had promised.
I wove through the bustle of bodies and went up the steps into the hall. Being an unusually warm day for mid-February, the opportunity to air the hall of its sooty odor had been seized and the doors thrust wide. The floors had been scrubbed with copious buckets of vinegar water and the smell stung at my eyes. Already, they were bringing in fresh rushes and dried herbs to lay down.
“James!” Randolph called through the crowd, thrusting a hand above his head.
I made my way to him and we clasped hands heartily. There was something different about him ... Ah, his appearance. Gone were the sensible clothes and armored trappings of a soldier; they had been replaced by a statesman’s attire: a slate-colored tunic that hung to just above his ankles, its tight-fitting sleeves lined with buttons from wrist to elbow, and over it a dagged edge quintise of light blue.
I pointed to his tapering shoes. “Those look entirely impractical.”
“My wife,” he said, his lip curling ever so slightly, “has become quite enamored of court life and thinks I should look the part. The enthusiasm is not mutual, I assure you. This morning I tripped twice. Ah, but tell me, James. Did it go well? You’re unscathed, I hope.” He snapped his fingers at a passing cook and peeled off a list of items to be checked. Indignant, the cook gave answer that everything was in good order and strutted off.
“Sorry,” Randolph said, turning his attention back to me. “There is so much to do and people pouring in every minute, begging for lodgings. I recall, at no time, any of this ever being written among my duties. The queen attempted to oversee it all at first, but she hadn’t the stamina for it.”
“What’s this all for?”
“You haven’t heard? A betrothal. Walter Stewart and Marjorie Bruce, no less.” His smile brightened, while mine slipped away.
So it was true, what Edward said. I had wanted to believe it was only talk, that nothing would come of it. Or maybe that Edward was merely tormenting me for sport.
Randolph grasped my shoulder as if to steady me. “Are you all right, James? You look a bit down in the mouth.”
I rubbed at my back, feigning an ache. “Just in need of a bed, is all. I say you’ve too much energy.”
“Too many responsibilities, more like. I should learn to delegate. Perhaps you’d like to organize the menu? Then again, maybe not. You’d be content with watered ale, stale bannocks, and a pot of venison stew without so much as a pinch of pepper.” Randolph cuffed me on the side of the head hard enough to make my ears rings. “You’ll tell me about the campaign when you’re rested?”
“Aye, I will.”
“Good, I’d much rather hear how you sent the English running in fright than spend one more hour” – he waved a hand in the air – “overseeing this . Between the two of us, I’ll be happy when it’s over.”
I, however, could not say the same.
***
T he feast
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