Chapter Four #3
“Since de Wolfe and de Norville have always been with me, I would ask that the duke accept their fealty as well,” he said, looking to Victor. “I do not fight without them by my side, my lord. They are ready and willing to swear fealty to you. Will you accept it?”
Victor stood up to better see the knights to whom Kevin was referring.
He couldn’t see them well because they were seated on the same side of the table as he was; moreover, it was dim in the chamber in spite of all of the candles.
When he finally caught sight of the tall, blond-haired knight and the compact, dark-haired knight, his features washed with both satisfaction and surprise.
“A de Wolfe?” he repeated. “God’s Blood, I’d be a fool not to accept fealty from a de Wolfe. Of course I will accept it.”
“De Norville, too.”
“Aye… de Norville, too.”
It was easy enough. Kevin was relieved that the subject had been settled without any resistance at all.
Even if de Ferrers came across as a wicked, spoiled man, at least Kevin knew that he was somewhat pliable to reasonable suggestion.
Now, he felt much more confident, or at least comfortable, in the course his future was about to take.
He had a liege who seemed to be willing to accept his advice and his friends would come with him.
That was a good sign. As he pondered his situation, and what was to come, Edward spoke up.
“Please, Sir Kevin,” he said, diverting the subject away from Victor and de Norville and de Wolfe.
“Will you now tell us of some of your adventures in the Levant? I will not let you leave this table until you give me some evidence of why you are called the Scorpion. Surely there is something you can say?”
Kevin accepted a large trencher of beef and boiled carrots from the same male servant that Victor had been lasciviously eyeballing. “Let me think on it, Your Grace,” he said, focusing on his food and realizing he was very hungry. “Give me a moment while I eat. I’ve not eaten all day.”
Edward was somewhat disappointed that Kevin was so unwilling to tell him what he wanted to know.
“Having been in the Levant for six years, I should hope there is something you can tell us,” he said, almost sarcastically, as Kevin was entirely focused on his food.
“Surely you are at least pleased to eat fine English food again. I hear that they eat bugs in the Levant.”
Kevin took his first big bite of succulent beef. “They are quite tasty, actually, Your Grace,” he said, mouth full. “They are cooked over an open fire until they are crispy and light. Throw on a handful of salt and it is a very tasty meal.”
Edward lifted his eyebrows in distaste while some of the other courtiers actually frowned in disgust. “Surely you have not become accustomed to native cuisine,” Edward said, eyeing the man as he shoved beef down his throat. “Surely you much prefer food from home.”
Kevin nodded. “I do, indeed, Your Grace.”
It was quite evident that the man was starving and unwilling to speak more on himself or on anything else, which utterly frustrated Edward.
He had hoped for great tales this night.
He glanced at Victor, whose attention was back on the young male servant, which caused Edward to sigh heavily with exasperation.
Nothing was going as he had wished. Turning back to his wine, he caught sight of slender, female hands down the table and his attention shifted to Annavieve, all but forgotten in the wake of the legendary Scorpion.
“Ah,” he said, attention now turned to his cousin’s betrothed. “Lady Annavieve will surely entertain us even if Hage will not. Surely she can recite something.”
Now the focus was on Annavieve who, thus far, had remained relatively unnoticed.
Everyone, including her, had been quite smitten by the big knight known as the Scorpion.
But men were looking at her now, men she didn’t know, and she was suddenly very self-conscious.
Terrified, even. Annavieve made eye contact with the expectant king.
“I wish I could recite fine poetry, Your Grace, but alas, I cannot,” she said. “The sisters at Sempringham had the wards memorize the Bible from the beginning until the end. I am afraid I can only recite passages from the Bible.”
Edward was seemingly amused. “Recite something that has a scorpion in it.”
Uncomfortable, Annavieve struggled to think of a Bible verse with a scorpion in it and she could only think of one.
Her gaze flickered nervously to Kevin, but she could only see the top of his head because he was hunched over his trencher.
She had no idea what the man who had been very kind to her would think of her reciting such a thing.
Yet, she had no choice. Much to her chagrin, her voice was trembling as she spoke.
“And their torment was as the torment of a scorpion when he striketh a man,” she said, “and in those days shall men seek death and shall not find it: and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.”
Edward chuckled, looking to some of his advisors, who were snorting as well. Then his gaze moved to Kevin. “Is that what you do?” he asked. “Cause men to wish they were dead because your strike is so painful?”
Kevin swallowed the bite in his mouth. “Unlike that Biblical passage, Your Grace, I do not leave my victims alive to wish for a death that has already come to them,” he said, sounding matter-of-fact. “They would wish for what they already have.”
Edward’s grin broadened as he turned back to Annavieve, who was obviously very uncomfortable. But the king saw it as a great game, a game that was somehow managing to draw Hage into a conversation whether or not he wanted to be. Edward waved to Annavieve again.
“Excellent, my lady,” he said. “Surely there are more like that.”
Annavieve was quite mortified at this point, embarrassed because she couldn’t recite anything finer than Bible verses for men who controlled the whole of England.
It was as if the king were trying to prove to everyone at the table that she was not a fine and cultured lady, but a Welsh barbarian who had been caged in a convent all of her life.
She saw Edward’s motives as humiliation.
“Nay, Your Grace,” she said, averting her gaze. “I am afraid I cannot think of any more.”
Edward grunted. “No more verses?” he repeated. “Then sing us a song. Surely you know hymns to entertain us with.”
Sing us a song, you lowly Welsh chit. That was what Annavieve heard.
The haughty English king was demanding she embarrass herself.
He wanted her to. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction.
She was embarrassed to the bone at the moment but she would not let the man win.
She would show him what her Welsh blood was capable of.
Quietly, she stood up and moved to the end of the table so everyone could see her.
In her borrowed brocaded dress, she had no idea just how ethereal and beautiful she looked.
It was something that was noticed by every man at the table except for Victor, who didn’t care in the least. He was trying to figure out how to get the young male servant he’d been watching into his bed.
Annavieve, however, wasn’t looking at Victor. He’d made it plain that he was not interested in her. Her focus was on the king and on Kevin, seated next to him, as she lifted her voice in dulcet soprano tones in perfectly spoken Latin.
“Agedum mitis Deus, precor,
Qui in altis Dominus noster victoriam.
Salva nos, Deus, misericordiam tuam in gratiam
Deus salutaris noster, hic caeli et terrae omnipotentem Dominum benedicebant.”
Her pure, crystal-clear voice rang throughout the chamber, quickly quieting any soft conversation.
She garnered the attention of everyone there, including the servants and, towards the end, even Victor.
Even Edward was shocked with the beauty of her voice, so much so that he actually stood up to face her.
“With a voice of such beauty, all you know are hymns?” he asked, aghast. “Did the nuns teach you nothing else?”
Annavieve looked him straight in the eye. “You forbad them to teach me anything else, Your Grace,” she said. “I am forbidden to sing anything from my father’s country.”
Edward blinked as if caught off-guard by her reply but he quickly recovered. He didn’t detect a rebuke, simply fact. He lifted his eyebrows as he regained his seat.
“Clearly, I was wrong,” he said, looking to Victor. “Did you hear her? You will make sure that she has a proper instructor to teach her every song ever written and then she will sing them all for me. Your betrothed has a gift from God, Victor. You must nurture it.”
Victor, although moderately impressed with Annavieve’s singing, was still quite indifferent towards her. Talent or no, he still had no interest in her and no amount of convincing by the king could persuade him otherwise.
“I will make sure she is properly taught,” he said, almost irritably, before his gaze fell on Kevin, seated across from him. “I would like to know what Hage thinks of her singing. Does she compare to the dark-skinned barbarian women in the Levant? I have heard they sing most deviantly.”
Kevin was nearly done with his food. He took a long drink of wine before looking at Victor.
“There is no contest between the lady, who I’ve yet been formally introduced to, and women from the Holy Land,” he said in a mild rebuke to both Victor and the king for their lack of manners.
“The lady is by far more talented and beautiful than any woman I have come across in my travels. That is a fact.”
Edward grinned. “I am sure you have known enough women in your time to make that judgment.”
“I have indeed, Your Grace.”
Edward laughed, thinking that Kevin’s last statement implied great stories in and of itself. But that would have to wait for another time without women present. He gestured at Annavieve, who was still standing politely at the end of the table, waiting for another royal command.
“That is the Lady Annavieve Fitz Roderick,” he said.
“She is the daughter of Rhodri, brother of Llewelyn and David, and an English mother. She is soon to marry my cousin, your new liege, and she will bear him many strong sons with English good sense and Welsh tenacity. Become well acquainted with her, Hage, for she shall be your mistress and you will be sworn to her unto the death. Does it bother you knowing that your new lady bears Welsh royal blood?”
Kevin was looking at Annavieve. He had been very truthful when he said he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life.
She was tall, long-limbed, and blessed with an exquisite face.
But the fact that she was Welsh cut into that opinion; the woman he had once loved, the lady he lost, married a Welsh prince.
He didn’t have a good opinion of the Welsh but for a different reason than most – the Welsh represented that which he had lost. It was difficult to look at her and not remember that pain.
“Nay, Your Grace,” he finally said, turning back to his wine. “It does not.”
Edward wasn’t convinced of that. He’d seen Kevin’s slight hesitation before answering. Perhaps there was some resentment there, but he would do Kevin the honor of believing him. He returned to his wine as well.
“Excellent,” he said. “Lady Annavieve may sing another song for us and then Victor and I will discuss his marriage, which I have determined shall be later tonight. I want to see the marriage myself to ensure it takes place because my cousin is a very reluctant bridegroom.”
Both Victor and Annavieve looked at Edward in horror. “Tonight?” Victor repeated. “That is out of the question. I’ve only just met the woman. You cannot expect me to marry her right away. We’ve had none of the usual preparations.”
Edward faced off against his cousin in front of a table full of witnesses.
He’d hoped that Victor would have kept his feelings to himself about the marriage but it seemed that would not be the case.
He’d hoped that by announcing the marriage set for that evening, Victor would simply keep his mouth shut and obey, as not to be made to look a fool if he contested the king, but it was evident that Victor had no intention of remaining silent.
Infuriated, and somewhat humiliated, Edward lost all of his humor.
He was finished arguing with his foolish cousin.
Slamming his fists down on the table, he snarled at Victor.
“No bride, no knight,” he boomed. “You will marry her tonight or Hage will not go with you to Ilchester. Those are the terms, Victor. You agreed to them.”
Victor was taken aback at the ferocity Edward was displaying.
His displays of power were usually much more subtle, so the roar coming forth from the king gave Victor pause.
But by bellowing the terms across the table for all to hear, Edward had put Victor in a position whereupon he could not refuse in any case.
A premier knight and a royal bride were something any man would happily accept from the king, but now everyone knew that Victor, the lifelong bachelor, would not receive the knight unless he accepted the bride.
It was horrifically humiliating to all involved, as Edward meant it should be. Wisely, Victor backed down.
“Of course,” he said. “We shall be married tonight if that is your wish, Your Grace.”
Edward continued to glare at Victor even as the man collected his chalice and drank, refusing to look at him.
There was no more good humor in Edward’s heart this night.
He was weary of arguing with Victor when he was trying to do the man a good turn.
Regardless of Victor’s personal feelings or personal preferences, he was going to accept his bride and be damn happy about it. That’s how Edward saw it.
Infuriated, the king reclaimed his seat, noticing that Annavieve was still standing at the end of the table, her expression a mask of shock. Edward didn’t have the patience to deal with female emotions; he waved an irritable hand at her.
“Sing,” he commanded.
Blinking back tears, Annavieve obeyed.