Chapter Twelve #3
“Maybe so. But I can promise you that he knows more about her disappearance from Rosehill than he told you.”
Matthew’s face clouded with confusion. “Why would you say that?”
“Because when I questioned him about her disappearance, a slip of his tongue gave him away. He told me that, although he knew nothing of her disappearance, she could keep running as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t so much what he said, but how he said it.
He saw something, Matt. I am not sure what it was, but he saw her leave Rosehill and I believe that he made a conscious choice not to tell you. ”
Matthew could only stand there and shake his head, slowly, as if reluctant to believe the worst. “You must be mistaken.”
“Ask him. Oh, and Matt?”
“What?”
“Nice ring.”
With that, The Dark Knight turned on his heel and moved down the dim corridor, heading for his chamber. Matthew stood there a moment, watching the massive figure disappear from sight. Only then did he turn on his own path, his mind full of their conversation.
He knew that Mark had no particular liking for Alixandrea and he furthermore knew why.
But Mark was his brother, and they had seen much life and death together over the years.
He loved his brother, and he knew him well.
He simply could not believe that Mark would deliberately allow her to come to harm.
Or could he?
*
Alixandrea was dressed and waiting for Matthew when he arrived back at their chamber.
It was warm and cozy inside, the fire blazing brightly in the hearth now that the sun had gone down.
Clad in a soft white shift with a heavy and elaborate gold brocade surcoat, Alixandrea looked absolutely magnificent.
The sight literally took Matthew’s breath away when he walked in the door and saw her.
“My God,” he breathed. “You are a glorious creature.”
Standing by the cluster of fancy chairs, she grinned humbly.
Mary Joan had curled her hair with a heated iron and cascades of spiral curls tumbled down her back while the front of her hair was secured off her face with a shell comb.
Her face was scrubbed clean and rosy and her lips were saturated with the lip ointment she always used.
She could see by the look on Matthew’s face that her efforts had been worth the results.
“I hope you like it,” she said. “I wanted to give a proper appearance our first night here.”
“Have no doubt, lady, that you do,” he moved towards her, drinking in the sight. “I will be the envy of every man in the room.”
“Will you not dress?”
“I am,” he held out his arms; in full armor, he looked every inch the fearsome warrior, not the elegant diner.
She frowned. “You intend to go like this?”
“Of course. How else would I go?”
She thought a moment and realized she really did not know. She had never been to a feast at the Tower and the knights she had known over the years had practically lived in their armor. It was common for them to dine in pieces of mail and protection.
“I suspect not all men will be dressed for doing battle with their beef knuckle,” she said. “Or do you expect a military offensive tonight in the great hall?”
He laughed at her. “One never knows in this place. The Tower is known for its turmoil and treachery and I would rather be prepared.” He took a step towards her, towering over her petite size.
Taking her hands, he held them tightly in his own, bringing them to his lips for a kiss.
“But for this night, I can guarantee that every eye in the hall will be trained on you. I have never seen such beauty.”
She blushed delightfully. “You flatter me, my lord.”
He moved down to kiss her but she turned her head and he ended up kissing her cheek instead. “I have ointment on my lips,” she smacked her lips together. “Can you not see it?”
He lifted his eyebrow at her, disappointed. “I see it.”
“I do not want to rub it off.”
“You mean that you do not want me to kiss you.”
She smiled, putting her soft hand against his bristly cheek. “I always want for you to kiss me,” she murmured. “But if you do, you shall come away with red lips. That would not do.”
“I shall take my chances.”
She giggled as he swooped down and kissed her deeply, tasting her sweetness with his unrelenting tongue. When he came away, it was to wipe his lips with his fingers and look at them.
“You still retain your red lips, madam, for I seem to have escaped them.” As she laughed softly, he collected her wrap from the nearby chair. “If you are ready, Lady Wellesbourne, we should depart. A plethora of gluttony and extravagance awaits.”
She allowed him to place her matching wrap over her shoulders and escort her from the room.
The corridor outside was dim, lit only by occasional iron sconces spaced in intervals along the wall.
She also noticed that there were several Wellesbourne soldiers lining the hall.
As they drew near one end, John and Luke were waiting.
The youngest Wellesbournes rushed forward, pushing each other aside until Luke gave the final hard shove and managed to take his place on Alixandrea’s free side. Dejected, John straightened his askew armor and his backbone and followed.
“My lady looks beautiful tonight,” Luke said smoothly.
Before Alixandrea could reply, Matthew growled. “What did I tell you about flattering my wife?”
To everyone’s surprise, Luke actually held his ground. “You had better become used to it, brother. Men will be salivating over her all evening.”
Matthew glared at him menacingly but refrained from replying. Luke was, after all, correct. With a few Wellesbourne men-at-arms in tow, the four of them descended the steps in the Wakefield Tower and entered out into the cool evening of the courtyard.
The moon was nearly full, creating a ghostly glow across the landscape as they made their way to the White Tower. Mounting the wooden steps, they entered the second floor of the keep and into the great dining hall at the end of the short corridor.
The corridor had been relatively quiet, making the appearance into the great hall a bright and overwhelming experience.
The hall was unusually hot, lit by a massive hearth that belched heat and smoke into the room.
It was also littered with people, sitting at tables, clustered in groups talking, or just milling about.
Servants were everywhere, carrying trays of alcohol to keep the diners happy until the king, and the food, arrived. It was, already, a hugely busy scene.
With Luke on one arm and Matthew on the other, Alixandrea walked into the room and nearly tripped on the rushes.
They were in bunches around the floor. But Matthew’s strong grip steadied her as he took her fully into the room, making sure to cross right through the center of the hall so that every man and woman there would see who had come.
He continued to walk down the center of the room in full view, his hawk-like gaze sweeping the chamber, making note of who was in attendance and who was not.
The White Lord of Wellesbourne had arrived and he would have no one mistake his presence.
The major artillery in the arsenal of Richard had arrived.
To Alixandrea, it felt a little bit like a parade.
She felt the gaze of everyone in the massive hall and she was torn between pride and the desire to hide.
It was a fast introduction into the life of the Tower and ready or not, Matthew brought her full-force into it.
All she could do was hold her head high and hold Matthew’s arm tightly.
They made their sweep of the room and settled at a table near the royal dais. Matthew took her wrap and helped her to sit, carefully arranging the yards of material that comprised her surcoat. Luke was about to take a seat next to her but John, biding his time, beat him to it.
“Would you like some wine?” Matthew asked her, watching Luke rough up John’s hair.
Alixandrea could see what the two younger brothers were doing out of the corner of her eye and she shook her head at the spectacle, amusing though it was. She could hear John yelp.
“I would.”
He winked at her and motioned to a nearby servant, who introduced a rich red liquid into their chalices. He took his seat just as his cup was filled and he collected it, turning to his wife with a toast on his lips.
“To you,” he said quietly.
She held her cup aloft also, her bronze eyes glittering. “To us.”
“Even better.”
They drank deeply of the heady port. All around them, the hall was bustling and Matthew sat very close to his wife, his eyes constantly on the move.
Alixandrea alternately watched her husband and watched the room, finding it interesting how much his demeanor changed the moment they had entered the hall.
Matthew was perpetually friendly, easy to smile, and companionable.
But the moment he penetrated the room, it was as if a lever had been lifted and a curtain descended.
His manner, his expression, turned hard.
He changed into something dark and different. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.
Gaston arrived a short time later. With him was a woman, very tall.
She would have been beautiful had she not been so severe looking with her tight wimple and fussy clothes.
Her features were fine and delicate, but there was little loveliness.
Gaston introduced her as Lady de Russe. She coldly greeted Matthew, barely nodded to Alixandrea, and ignored Luke and John completely.
From the moment she and Gaston sat at the table, they ignored each other as well.
While Gaston and Matthew settled into muted conversation, Alixandrea turned to John and Luke on her other side.
“Who are all of these people?” she asked. “Do you recognize anyone?”