Chapter Three #2
Howard’s cup was empty. He rose from his chair and collected the fine cut glass decanter that had been imported all the way from the Holy Land. The blood-red liquid swirled as he poured himself another measure and then a cup for la Londe. He offered the man the chalice.
“A toast,” he said. “To plans well received and well executed.”
La Londe lifted his cup. “To a prize worth having.”
Howard drank deeply. He’d made a deal with the Devil and was very well aware of it.
*
The kirtle was a pale yellow and the sleeveless surcoat a deeper, richer gold.
Unlike most women of fashion who wore a plackart from shoulder to chest as a sort of bib, Alixandrea’s breasts were too full for such a thing so she had taken to wearing a whale bone corset instead.
It wasn’t unheard of in courtly fashion and supported her far more adequately.
The problem was that Jezebel laced her into the thing as if she were tying up a pig to the spit.
The more Alixandrea grunted, the harder Jezebel pulled until she was satisfied that the stays were correct and the lacings in the rear were properly tied and left to trail.
As a whole, Alixandrea already presented a lovely picture.
But there was more. Jezebel rolled fresh hose up each leg made of kersey, which was a lamb’s wool blend, and fastened them with yellow ribbon. Then the slippers went on, made from damask and finely embroidered. Finally, it was time to tackle the hair, which the little maid did so quite ably.
She had become adept at the art of her mistresses hair and in little time, Alixandrea had a single thick braid draped over one shoulder into which a dozen yellow ribbons had been interwoven.
Two golden hairpins in the shape of butterflies were placed strategically on her head, and the ends of the long kirtle sleeves were fixed with decorative weights to keep them properly draped.
She wore no jewelry this night; she did not need any.
By the time Jezebel was finished with her mistress, she was indeed a presentable sight.
Alixandrea stood there for a moment, gazing at herself in the polished bronze hand mirror that she had brought with her.
Golden-brown eyes gazed back and thick lashes tickled her brow every time she blinked.
Jezebel bustled around her, picking up the robe from her earlier bath.
She noticed her lady’s distant expression.
“What is it, m’lady?” she asked. “Are ye not happy with yer presentation?”
Alixandrea shook her head and lay the mirror down.
Beside her, on a small table that one of Lady Caroline’s servants had brought in, sat a small alabaster pot of a mixture of beeswax and oil.
Alixandrea was forever nibbling on her lips, a bad habit she had acquired; consequently, they were always cracked and bleeding.
She smoothed the ointment on her lips to soothe them.
“I am,” she sighed. “’Tis simply that this day… well, it has been exhausting. It certainly did not go the way I had planned. And now I must face the entire castle as Matthew’s betrothed. I suppose I am just a bit apprehensive.”
“But why?” Jezebel stood next to her, her arms full of clothes. “Ye’re as lovely as an angel, m’lady. Can ye not see that Sir Matthew thinks so, too?”
Alixandrea looked at her. “He does?”
“Aye. He cannot take his eyes from ye.”
“He can’t?”
“Nay.”
Alixandrea looked back at herself. She fussed with the little tendrils of hair that curled around her face, inspecting her features, wondering what he apparently found so fascinating.
Jezebel went to put the laundry away and collected a small glass vial of perfume oil out of one of the capcases.
She dabbed the scent of roses and violets on her lady’s slender shoulders.
“There,” she said with quiet approval. “Any man in this kingdom would be proud to have ye, m’lady. You go into that hall tonight and show those Wellesbourne men what they have been missin’.”
Alixandrea felt much better with Jezebel’s encouragement. The woman was her staunchest supporter and her harshest critic. “Will you be all right tonight while I am at sup?” she asked her.
“I shall find my way, m’lady. Have no worries.”
Satisfied her maid would not starve, she stood up and began to pace around.
The chamber was very small, hardly enough room for the bed, chair and small table, but it was comfortable and more than likely the cleanest room in the keep.
Of that she was moderately sure. She started to chew her lip but tasted the ointment and stopped.
Then she started to bite her nails, another bad habit, but Jezebel swatted her hands so she clenched them into fists and lowered them.
By the fourth trip around the chamber, there was a soft knock at the door.
Alixandrea froze as Jezebel opened the panel.
Four men stood in the very small landing just outside the door.
She recognized Matthew right away, for he was the first one in the doorway.
But what she saw amazed her; he had cleaned up from his harrowing day and stood in a pale linen tunic, leather breeches and massive boots.
He wore no armor at all. His face was washed and she was sure from the smoothness of it that he had shaved.
His blue eyes glittered at her as she came near, and the four men bowed deeply.
“My lady,” Matthew said. “We have come to escort you to sup.”
“And just who might ‘we’ be, my lord?”
“My brothers,” Matthew indicated them in order. “Mark, Luke, and Johnny.”
“Just the four of you?”
“That’s all there is.”
A faint smile played on her lips as she inspected the group; she recognized Mark only because she had met him earlier on their frantic ride to Wellesbourne.
He was the shortest brother, stocky, with thinning black hair and a neatly trimmed black beard.
Beside him stood Luke, who was as tall as Matthew but only half as wide.
He smiled timidly when their eyes met. The last brother was one she had yet to see, a tall, slender young lad of perhaps twenty years with a head of wavy blond hair.
John Wellesbourne had freckles all over his face and grinned shyly when she looked at him.
“A genuine pleasure, my lords,” she dipped in a smooth curtsy. “I am honored.”
Matthew extended his hand. “If my lady is ready, sup awaits.”
She allowed him to lead her from the chamber and assist her down the steps.
In fact, Matthew and Mark made sure to stay in front of her, admonishing her to watch her step on the narrow stairs.
John and Luke hovered just behind her, each vying for the spot directly behind her.
The stairwell was too narrow for them to descend side by side, so someone had to go first and someone had to bring up the rear.
Luke lost the battle when John finally shoved him out of the way and nearly made him lose his footing.
Another spiral stair led from the third floor to the second.
This stairwell was wider, but it was nonetheless steep.
Matthew walked backwards, making sure she kept a grip on him as she descended.
It would not do for the lady to trip on her elegant gown and break her neck.
He could see John and Luke fighting behind her, slapping each other around, but he ignored them.
Like eager boys, they were immediately taken with the latest addition to Wellesbourne.
The second floor of the keep housed the enormous hall. There was a small entryway, into which the stairwell was built, and the main hall off of that. When the five of them got to the bottom of the stairs, Lady Caroline and an older man, stocky with thinning gray hair, were waiting for them.
Lady Caroline gracefully curtsied. “My lady,” she greeted, reaching out to take her arm. “How elegant you look. I am so happy that you are here.”
Alixandrea smiled at her; she was coming to like the lady. “I am happy as well. Thank you for your kindness.”
“Allow me to present the patriarch of the Wellesbournes, Sir Adam,” Caroline indicated the man next to her. “My lord, this is the Lady Alixandrea Terrington St. Ave, Matthew’s wife to be.”
Adam gazed at her a moment before reaching out and gently taking her hand.
He covered it with his big warm palm. “I had no idea Matthew’s betrothed would be so lovely,” he said.
“You must forgive us, my lady. Other than Lady Caroline, we are unused to such beauty in this place. Your arrival has both brightened and honored us.”
“You are too kind, my lord,” she said. “Everyone had been so kind to me. I am most happy to be here.”
Adam smiled broadly, something he hadn’t done in years, and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.
Witnessing this, it occurred to Matthew that he would not be permitted to escort his betrothed into the great hall for everyone to see.
His father would do it. But he made sure to walk directly behind her as they entered the pungent, brightly lit hall.
Wellesbourne Castle harbored something along the lines of five hundred men at any given time.
With the troops that Alixandrea had brought with her, that number was nearly doubled.
The feasting hall was reserved for senior soldiers, officers and knights, and there were about a hundred of them, all gazing at Alixandrea as she entered the room on their liege’s arm.
A group of traveling minstrels had sought shelter for the eve and stood in the corner, playing for their supper.
But even the musicians silenced when the lady entered the room.
It was the very same reaction that those in the tavern in Newbold had suffered; the moment she set foot in the room, no one could take their eyes from her.