Chapter Six
For Eiselle, the ceremony and feasting passed in a blur.
In fact, the entire day had happened so fast that Eiselle felt as if she were still trying to regain her equilibrium. The grooming in the morning, then being married by the smelly priest in wet robes at the nooning hour, and then an entire afternoon and evening of feasting and song and dance.
Truly, it had been overwhelming.
Keeva had arranged for minstrels local to one of the taverns in the nearby village to provide music for the feast, and they had played for many hours as those who had been invited to the wedding feast drank and danced to excess.
All of the guests were senior soldiers and knights, as Bric hadn’t been agreeable to the marriage until the bride actually arrived so there had been no time to send out invitations.
A few of the soldiers had brought women with them, and Eiselle had no idea who they were, but they were dressed rather scantily.
Since the soldiers seemed to keep them off in a corner, she assumed they were women with unsavory reputations brought in from the village.
There were taverns there, and the whores that went with them, so she could only assume that there were whores in attendance at her wedding.
She didn’t mention them to Keeva, however, for fear of upsetting the woman, but the truth was that Keeva was well aware of their presence.
She wasn’t entirely pleased about it, but a few whispered words from Daveigh had calmed her.
She was evidently willing to overlook it for the sake of the occasion, which was truly a celebration.
Finally, Bric MacRohan had taken a bride and Keeva, more than anyone, didn’t want anything to upset that.
Eiselle knew that Keeva had worked very hard to make this moment possible, but the reality was that she didn’t know just how hard.
Although Bric had confessed his reluctance to marry, she really didn’t know the hell he’d put everyone through.
All she knew was that she was now Lady MacRohan and that her wedding feast had been full of delicious food, of lively music, and of men and women enjoying themselves.
The musicians were playing a ductia, a complex instrumental piece that, in this case, had words to it.
Eiselle had heard it before when she had been at Framlingham and she’d even heard Lady Bigod sing it.
As she listened to the talented musician play a long, wooden flute, she found herself mouthing the words as she’d heard them.
Bric, who surprisingly hadn’t left her side since their marriage ceremony, caught sight of the movement and thought she was speaking to him. Unable to hear her over the noise of the hall, he leaned closer so he could hear her words.
“I did not hear you, my lady,” he said. “You were saying something?”
Eiselle’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed that he’d caught her singing. “Nay, I did not speak,” she said. Weakly, she gestured to the musician. “I was simply reciting the words to this song.”
“You know it?”
“I do.”
“What is it called?”
“A Lover’s Lament,” she said. “It is about a woman who longs for a man who has gone off to war.”
He lifted an eyebrow in interest. “Is that so?” he said. “I have heard the tune, but I did not know there were words to it. Will you sing it for me?”
The mottle in her cheeks deepened. “Here? In front of everyone?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “You can sing it quietly so only I may hear you.”
Eiselle didn’t want to deny him, but she was genuinely reluctant to sing to him.
Although she loved to sing, it had only been in front of women, or when she was alone in her chamber, so she wasn’t entirely sure she was good enough for a public performance.
She didn’t want to embarrass herself and she could feel the return of the dreaded nervous stomach at the mere thought.
However, Bric was her husband now and she wanted to be the good, obedient wife. If he wanted to hear the song, then she would sing it. When the tune started up again on the chorus, she began to sing.
I have loved, all my life, only thee;
The stars know thy name, the sky weeps at your beauty.
I pray thou will return to my arms,
but if not,
I pray to see thy face every night in my dreams.
Eiselle’s pure soprano was crisp and beautiful, and Bric listened to her as if mesmerized.
When she finished, she smiled timidly as she hoped for a good response, but all he could do was stare.
He was shocked at the beauty that had poured forth from her lips and after a moment, he simply shook his head.
“Astounding,” he said sincerely. “You have the voice of an angel, my lady.”
Eiselle was deeply flattered, thankful that she hadn’t sounded like a squealing piglet. “My thanks,” she said. “There are more verses, but I do not remember them all.”
“A pity,” he said. “I should have you sing to me every night. Do you know more songs?”
She nodded. “A few. But not enough to sing to you every night.”
There was a glimmer in his silver eyes. “Then you shall sing to me all of the songs you know, and I shall select my favorites for you to sing over and over.”
“You might grow bored if I do that.”
“Nothing about you could bore me.”
It sounded very much like a compliment and she smiled shyly, turning her attention to her wine and taking a sip. His praise of her singing made her feel quite giddy. In fact, the man in general made her feel quite giddy.
Ever since she presented herself in the hall for their marriage, the look in his eyes had made her breathing come quicker and her heart beat just a little faster.
He looked at her as if… as if her presence actually meant something to him.
Nothing else could have explained that glimmer in his eye, but Eiselle knew this marriage wasn’t something he’d been waiting for.
He’d already admitted that he hadn’t been keen on it.
But she would have never guessed that by the expression on his face.
Even now, he never left her side, sitting next to her even as his knights sat on his right, drinking and talking and laughing.
She could hear them. Zara and Angela and Lady de Winter sat across the table from her, and she’d shared a few small, rather bland conversations with them.
It was too loud in the hall to do much else other than shout over the tabletop.
There was a lot of smiling going on, however, the ladies smiling at her and Eiselle smiling back.
It began to get redundant and towards the evening, she stopped looking at them altogether because she was tired of smiling.
More food was brought around, which gave her something else to focus on.
As night settled and after several hours of playing, the musicians finally stopped, and the hall seemed quieter, more subdued, as men ate yet another meal at the wedding feast of Bric MacRohan.
Most of them were quite drunk by now, and they’d started up pockets of gambling throughout the hall, which was now smoky from the fire that had been burning bright and steady since noon.
A blue haze hung in the air that was becoming thicker by the hour.
As Eiselle and Bric delved into a second round of food, which Eiselle mostly picked at because her stomach was still nervous, an old woman wrapped in servant’s clothing suddenly appeared with a curly-haired toddler. Angela gasped when she saw the child.
“Come to me, my sweetest darling,” she said, taking her son from his nurse.
She kissed the child before looking to Eiselle and Bric across the table.
“I hope you do not mind that Edward has come to your feast. I promised him that he could kiss the bride, and you know that it is very good luck if a baby kisses the bride. It will ensure your marriage is fruitful.”
Across the table, Mylo rolled his eyes at his wife, who cuddled the boy that looked exactly like him.
He’d never heard of such a blessing, and Angela couldn’t stand spending more than an hour or two away from their son, so he assumed it was his wife’s way of permitting the boy to attend the wedding feast. In fact, it seemed that everyone was rolling their eyes at Angela one way or another.
Everyone except Eiselle. She forced a smile at the woman who was trying to bring her baby into an adult gathering, where men were drinking and gambling and cursing. She didn’t think it was a good place for the child.
“That is very kind of you, my lady,” she said. “I can see that your son is a fine lad.”
Angela stood up from the table with the boy in her arms, making her away around the long table and heading towards Eiselle.
But the child wasn’t too happy with being held; he wanted to get down and run and play with the dogs who were gathered around the tables, waiting for scraps.
By the time Angela came alongside Eiselle, little Edward was screaming loudly enough to pierce eardrums.
“Eddie, behave,” Angela scolded weakly as the boy kicked and screamed. “Don’t you want to kiss the pretty lady? Give her a kiss, Eddie!”
Edward had no desire to kiss Eiselle. He glared at her, barring his teeth, and tried to kick her. Angela finally set her squirming son down on the bench next to Eiselle.
“Eddie, don’t be naughty,” she said. “This is Lady MacRohan. She just married Sir Bric. You like Sir Bric, don’t you? Be kind to Lady MacRohan and give her a kiss for luck.”
Edward was whining and squirming, trying to pull away from his mother, but Angela was thrusting the child at Eiselle, who really didn’t want to be kissed by such a child.
She thought his behavior appalling. When Angela tried to encourage him, he reached up and hit his mother in the face.
She calmly told him not to hit her and kept trying to thrust him on Eiselle.
“Angela,” Mylo said from the other side of Bric. “Stop trying to force the lad.”
He sounded irritated, but Angela was oblivious. “Eddie wants to kiss her,” she insisted. “Don’t you, Eddie?”