Chapter Seven
“There once was a lady fair,
With silver bells in her hair.
I knew her to have,
A luscious kiss… it drove me mad!
But she denied me… and I was so terribly sad.
Lily, my girl,
Your flower, I will unfurl
With my cock and a bit of good luck!
Your kiss divine,
I’ll make you mine,
And keep you abed for a fuck!”
The great hall exploded with bawdy laughter as Gar, Andreas, and Maksim sang what was traditionally known in the de Wolfe family circle as the “Naughty Wedding Song.” There were actually two or three of those questionable songs falling under that heading, but in any case, it was tradition at every de Wolfe marriage that the song, or songs, be sung.
Gar and Andreas, drunk on Reese’s good wine, and Maksim, even more drunk on his father’s good wine, were singing it with the soldiers and sergeants that were in the great hall.
They certainly weren’t singing it with the bride.
While the majority of the hall was happy and celebrating, at the dais, it was a different story. It was a somber group that sat before a mass of food, listening to the songs and watching the revelry. That included Julia, who wasn’t exactly pleased with the song selection.
“Stop them,” she told her husband. “I’ll not have them debase this feast any more than they already have. Stop them, I say!”
Reece was trying to keep the grin off his face.
He, too, would have been singing that song if he wasn’t afraid of the stick his wife would use on him if he did.
Troy, who had historically been at the head of those naughty wedding choruses, kept putting his cup to his lips, sipping, as if keeping his mouth busy so he wouldn’t join in and offend his son’s new mother-in-law.
“Let them celebrate, my dear,” Reece said, trying to soothe her. “They are harmless songs. It keeps the men happy.”
“And what about your daughter?” Julia said, throwing an imperious finger in Mattie’s direction. “What about keeping her happy? Do you think she is happy right now?”
Reece looked over at his daughter, resplendent in a pale blue silk frock with silver and white embroidery around the neckline. It was a stunning piece, and she looked quite beautiful in it. When she saw her parents looking at her, she simply shook her head.
“I am untroubled, Mama,” she said. “If he wants to sing, let him sing.”
Julia frowned. “That is not a suitable song for your ears,” she said. “This is your wedding feast. There must be some decorum!”
With that, she stood up and went to her daughter, pulling her out of the chair.
As she began to lead her away, Mattie grasped Agnes’ hand and pulled her along, too.
There was a train of women heading for the area of the great hearth, where a man with a lute and another man with a fife had been providing music during the evening.
They were part of the de Reyne army, soldiers who happened to play instruments, and Julia had made sure they played tonight.
Gar and Andreas and Maksim were striking up another chorus of a song involving an old whore named Rose when Julia began waving her hands, shouting for silence.
When the men realized that Lady Hensingham was calling for their attention, they immediately shut their mouths.
Very quickly, the hall fell into silence.
“Thank you,” Julia said with a sarcastic tinge. “Now, the musicians will play something suitable for a bransle. My daughter and Lady Agnes will show you how it is done. Gar, come and dance with your wife.”
It was a command. Gar immediately set his cup of wine down and went over to Mattie, who smiled hesitantly at him.
He’d been having such a good time that she was concerned he might be angry with her that Julia had pulled him away from his friends, but there was no such annoyance on his face.
In fact, he winked at her and took her hand, tucking it into his elbow as Julia directed the musicians, who began to play a common enough ballad suitable to that type of dance. But Mattie didn’t hear the music.
All she felt was Gar.
It was the first time he’d touched her.
During the marriage mass, they’d simply stood there and listened, hands at their sides.
They hadn’t even looked at one another, their attention on the priest as he intoned the blessing.
Even afterward, they had been congratulated by other people.
They hadn’t even congratulated each other.
Gar had been surrounded by his father and brother, while Mattie had been embraced by her mother.
Julia didn’t even let her go, not until they’d reached the dais in the great hall where the hastily arranged wedding feast was spread out.
Mattie sat down, there was a toast to their good marriage, and then Gar was pulled away by his father and brother and even Maksim, who seemed particularly overjoyed by the union.
That had left Mattie sitting with Agnes and her mother whilst men drank and sang, and gaiety went on around her.
But something good had come out of it.
It gave her a chance to observe her new husband.
Gar loved to laugh. He laughed with his brother, his father, with Maksim.
He drank, he laughed. He had big, straight teeth and a beautiful smile, one that made her heart leap strangely.
He was big and handsome and seemingly bright, everything a maiden should want in a husband, but there was another side to him that she saw, too.
He was, in a word, sloppy.
He drank wine, it spilled down his chin, and he wiped it away with a hand.
Then he wiped that hand on the breeches she’d made for him.
He was still wearing them and the pale linen was quickly becoming dirty.
At one point, he was challenged by one of the soldiers to an arm-wrestling competition, which he won with hardly any effort.
But in the process of winning, he’d spilled the soldier’s trencher onto his lap and onto the floor, and other than brush it away, he did nothing to actually clean it.
He seemed to have no sense of cleanliness or manners, so by the time Mattie’s mother was demanding he dance, Gar was filthy with stain.
It was somewhat mortifying. When he winked at her, she almost forgot about it, but not quite.
She was expected to stand with him. Dance with him.
Oh, how she wanted to dance with her husband, but not the little piglet standing beside her.
Mattie was quite torn.
“Would this be a good time to confess that I do not know how to dance?”
Gar was whispering in her ear, distracting her from her thoughts. He smelled like wine. She looked at him, into those bright green eyes, and she could feel herself surrendering.
“Of course you can dance,” she said. “Everyone learns to dance when they foster.”
He shook his head. “Not me,” he said. “I never had the ability. Everyone would laugh at me when I tried, so I simply refused to learn.”
She grinned. “I will teach you, have no fear,” she said. “Please do try. It is our wedding feast, after all.”
He nodded, conceding the point. “For you, I will,” he said. “But if anyone else asks me, they will not like my reaction.”
“Gar!”
It was Julia. She was barking at him like a battle commander. Before Gar could stop himself, he shouted his response.
“Aye, empress?”
His booming voice had the entire hall laughing. Even Julia fought off a grin at his cheeky answer.
“Empress, is it?” she said. “Well and good that you have acknowledged that.”
“I have, empress.”
He seemed so serious about it and his reaction had Julia laughing. He was naughty, and sassy, but so adorable she could hardly become angry with him.
“I see,” she said, looking at him appraisingly. “But if I am the empress, what, pray tell, is my daughter?”
Gar looked at Mattie, who was smiling up at him and he smiled in return.
“The queen,” he said softly. “She is the Queen of All.”
The entire hall applauded his answer, cheering the new husband’s smart and submissive response when it came to two women who would be important in his life.
One more than the other, of course, and the moment wasn’t lost on Mattie.
She flushed madly because it was a sweet thing to say and everyone knew it.
Especially her.
As the cheering died down, Julia clapped her hands quickly, businesslike, and the music began again.
Since there were only three noblewomen in the hall—Mattie, Agnes, and Julia—there weren’t any women for the soldiers to dance with.
That was also because Julia wouldn’t let the camp followers, the women who tended to warm the beds of the soldiers and cook for them, into the great hall.
As she’d once told Reece, she’d rather have the dogs in her hall than the cats.
Therefore, when the lines began to form for the traditional bransle, it was all men and two women because Julia recused herself.
The lines began to move.
Very quickly, Mattie began to see that Gar hadn’t been exaggerating. He had no idea where to put his feet. Softly, she began to coach him.
“This way,” she murmured. “Watch my feet. That’s right. The left over the right. When we reverse, it will be the right over the left.”
Gar was genuinely uncomfortable. “I am going to step on you, I know it,” he said, sounding nervous. “I would much rather watch you dance than do this with you.”
“Nonsense,” Mattie said, smiling at him. The movement in the dance came when they were to hold hands and dance in a circle, so she took both of his hands and began to move to her left. “Follow me this way. You can do it. I have faith in you.”