Chapter 6 #3
The servants began setting pitchers of wine on the tables. Once the king’s goblet was filled, he shot up from his seat and raised his goblet in toast to the new arrivals.
“To our guests, the Mormaer of Blackwell and his wife and daughter. Welcome to Dunfermline.”
Goblets all around the hall were raised and wine quaffed as shouts of “Aye!” ascended from the crowd.
Servants set haunches of roast venison before them, the spicy aroma making Steinar’s mouth water.
A Saxon serving wench poured wine into their goblets, aiming a slow smile at Steinar as she did so.
Long flaxen plaits complemented her round face and form, but he was not interested. He had eyes for only one woman.
“Will you entertain us this eve?” he asked Rhodri.
“Not tonight.” He grinned. “I am to have the evening free.” The bard sliced off a piece of meat and brought it to the trencher they shared. “The king has arranged for a group of minstrels for dancing.”
* * *
“Dancing!” Catrìona exclaimed with pleasure.
“I have not danced in a very long time. Not since before…” Her words trailed off as she remembered her parents had arranged for music and dancing the evening she and Domnall were to be betrothed.
The vision of the planned gaiety faded from her mind, reminding her she and Domnall were not yet betrothed.
Across from her, Fia’s blue eyes glistened excitedly.
“I can hardly eat for the thought of dancing in King Malcolm’s court.
Do you think the bard will play with the minstrels?
I would so like to dance with him.” Her cousin’s gaze shifted to where the bard sat with Steinar.
“Rhodri is so handsome tonight in his green velvet tunic.”
“You will have to wait and see,” said Catrìona. “I expect there will be several instruments. Mandolins, flutes, mayhap even drums. He may be asked to join them.”
Elspeth, the youngest of the queen’s ladies, sat nearby flirting with one of the king’s guards and giggling when he returned her smiles with a lusty glance.
“She had best contain her smiles,” Fia whispered to Catrìona, “else she will soon be devoured by that one.”
Her cousin’s eyes were narrowed on a muscled warrior Catrìona had not noticed before, but now she could see there was a fierceness about his person.
He had dark, intense eyes and a warrior’s chest and arms. His long hair was neither blond nor brown but somewhere in between, held in place by a strip of leather encircling his head.
Unlike his hair, his short beard and mustache were red.
“He is Colbán of Moray,” said Fia, “captain of the king’s guard and a man known for stealing young women’s virtue.”
Catrìona looked at her cousin. “How could you know that?”
“When you are off with Giric flying your falcon, I hear things and Niall sometimes passes to me what he learns from the men at archery practice. He thought to warn us.”
Catrìona watched the one called Colbán as his dark eyes narrowed on Elspeth, like a wolf leering at a lamb. “He appears more man than a silly girl like Elspeth can handle,” she whispered to Fia.
“He has an eye for the queen’s ladies,” said Fia in a low voice. “ ’Tis said the king will give him one of us to wed.”
Catrìona shrugged. It was no concern of hers, unless he desired her cousin. Inwardly, she feared he might, for Fia was very pretty.
Fia looked at her pointedly. “I have seen him watching you more than once.”
“He can watch me all he wants,” Catrìona pronounced defiantly. “I am promised to Domnall.”
When the meal was concluded, the tables were pushed to the walls leaving a large space in the middle of the room for dancing on either side of the central hearth where the fire had been reduced to glowing embers.
Three minstrels took their places in front of the dais facing into the hall where men and women anxiously waited for the music to begin.
They had only begun to pluck at their instruments when Fia nudged her in the side. “Look! Rhodri is not among the musicians. Mayhap he will dance after all.”
Catrìona grew anxious as she looked around the crowded hall, searching for Domnall. She had expected him to come to her when the music began, but he had not. “I wonder where Domnall is.”
“I do not wish to be the bearer of sad news, Cousin, but look to the end of the dais where the new lady has just stepped down. See who awaits her?”
Catrìona’s brows drew together, first in confusion, then in dismay, as she saw her intended kiss the hand of Blackwell’s daughter and lead her to a group of dancers. “Why does Domnall seek her out?”
“You need look no farther than her father’s fortune,” came Fia’s retort. “My father once told me the Mormaer of Blackwell has much land and many ships.”
Would Domnall seek the hand of another for greater fortune? Shamed that the man to whom she had promised her heart had chosen another to partner, Catrìona turned to go. “I cannot stay,” she told Fia.
She was in such a hurry to get away she did not see the tall blond scribe step into her path until she nearly collided with him. His chest was suddenly before her face and she came to a stop, raising her head to look into his unusual eyes.
He grinned broadly. “Will you dance with me, my lady?”
Swallowing hard, she blinked back the tears she had been holding in.
“Of… of course.” She took his offered hand and they joined the dancers forming a circle.
His hand was large and warm and his grip sure.
Somehow knowing he had hold of her gave her comfort.
Too, Domnall would see she was not bereft of admirers.
The steps of the dance took them around the circle to the left.
Given his limp, she was surprised how agile Steinar was at the quick steps.
The dance forced her to concentrate and she smiled stiffly at the others, for inwardly she was hurting.
The pain of Domnall’s defection gnawed away at her.
Appearing to be gay when she was downcast was not easy, but Steinar’s seeming delight at being her partner helped to soothe the hurt Domnall’s rejection had caused.
She stole a glance at the circle of dancers that included Domnall and Blackwell’s daughter along with Elspeth and the king’s captain.
Steinar drew her attention back to him when he said, “I have not had such a beautiful partner since the queen condescended to dance with me some months ago.” Catrìona saw laughter in his beautiful blue thistle eyes.
She did not hide her gratitude. “To compare me to Margaret is compliment indeed. You exaggerate, of course.” And then with a small smile, “But I will allow it.”
The pace of the dance quickened as the minstrels played faster. When Fia and the bard joined their circle, Catrìona reached up to speak into Steinar’s ear so he could hear her over the music. “Your friend partners with my cousin.”
Watching the two, Steinar said, “Rhodri is much taken with her. He imagines she is Welsh.”
“I have not known any Welshmen, save the bard, but Fia’s roots are in Alba; she is a true Gael.”
“Aye, he knows it, but he is smitten all the same.”
Catching glimpses of Fia and the Welshman holding hands and dancing, their smiles only for each other, Catrìona had to admit, “And she with him.”
“Rhodri is an unusual man,” said Steinar.
“Because, like you, he is educated?”
“That and more. Even I do not know his whole story. He rarely speaks of his past.”
The song ended and their hands dropped to their sides as they waited for another round to begin. Without meaning to, Catrìona’s gaze caught Isla of Blackwell’s hand reaching to Domnall’s chest as she laughed. Pulling her thoughts back to the man standing beside her, she listened as he went on.
“Rhodri was in England for several years before coming with me to Scotland.”
“Why did he come to Scotland?”
“ ’Twas for friendship’s sake. I could not stay in England but my wound made travel difficult. Rhodri helped me. I have always known someday he would return to Wales but I would not wish it to be soon.”
The music began again and he took her hand, joining with the new circle forming. Forcing her gaze away from the circle where Domnall danced with the woman from Blackwell, Catrìona kept her eyes on the golden-haired scribe and her mind on the steps of the dance.
When the music stopped, she realized Steinar had not limped while they were dancing. “Your leg is better?”
“Aye, ’tis better every day.”
The circle of dancers Catrìona and Steinar were a part of made room for the king and queen who had decided to join in the dancing.
Catrìona studied the pair. They made a handsome couple with his kingly presence and her graceful bearing.
On his dark head, he wore a golden crown.
Her flaxen plaits hung long beneath her gold-crowned headscarf.
Margaret was years younger than her husband and very pretty as she smiled up at the king.
It was obvious they had danced together many times for they moved as one through the steps.
When the song ended, Catrìona was standing near the queen. Margaret put a hand to her chest, breathing deeply. “I am out of breath but I did love it so!”
On Margaret’s other side, the king said, “Aye, mo cridhe, it has been too long.”
A servant brought the king and the queen goblets of wine. Margaret sipped hers. Malcolm took a large swig and handed the goblet back to the servant. Bowing to the queen, the king walked to the center of the room, the eyes of the crowd upon him.
Margaret drew near Catrìona. “You must see this.” Then the queen moved to the side of the room, her eyes on her husband.
A servant brought two swords and placed them across each other on the ground in front of the king.