Chapter Eleven
All eyes were on Cleodora when she arrived at Westminster.
The archbishop had deliberately delayed their arrival because he wanted to make sure all eyes were on him and on his Pearl when he made a grand entrance.
Their journey to Westminster wasn’t without its troubles, unfortunately, with one of those troubles being the complicated gown that Cleodora was wearing.
It looked magnificent but traveling in it, and sitting in it, was nearly impossible.
It had taken some wrangling to get her into the carriage without severely compromising the structure of the dress.
Filly had been forced to come along because someone needed to tend to the garment as Cleodora pretended to act regal in the unmanageable costume.
When they exited the carriage, it was with Filly making sure the train of the dress was spread out appropriately so that Cleodora’s entrance into Westminster Hall would have the full visual effect.
And it did.
For those looking at Cleodora, anyway.
For her, however, it was a decidedly different experience.
When she walked into the hall, Cambridge released her elbow, which he had been holding since they left the carriage, and he told her to lift her arms slightly so that the wings attached to the dress would be on full display.
Therefore, she literally walked into the hall with her arms raised so that the wings blew gently in the wind and made it appear as if she were actually flying.
That drew gasps of delight and applause from the lords and ladies that were closest to the door, something that pleased Cambridge immensely.
That was exactly the reaction he was going for.
A servant wearing the crimson tunic of Edward I met them once they entered the hall and escorted them to their designated seats.
Cambridge wasn’t exactly pleased with the location because they weren’t on par with the king’s seats.
Furthermore, he was quite convinced that the Archbishop of Canterbury had a better view than he did, which turned his mood foul.
Cleodora, however, thought their seats were quite nice and she sat in an elaborately carved chair with the help of Filly to ensure her dress was preserved as much as possible.
As Cambridge sat there and fumed like a spoiled child, wine was brought to them as well as trays of cheese and bread.
Unfortunately for Cleodora, she wasn’t able to eat much because of the restrictions of the bodice she was wearing.
Moreover, Cambridge kept looking at her and at one point instructed her not to stain in the dress, which limited what she could put in her mouth.
Nothing that was drippy or difficult to eat or, God forbid, something that would permanently stain.
She could eat the bread and the cheese, which she did, but when the feast began and the elaborate dishes began to come out, Cambridge discouraged her from eating the boiled beef and gravy.
There was also some kind of fowl in a cherry sauce, which looked divine, but she was absolutely forbidden to eat it.
Anything that had a sauce was sent away by the archbishop, which limited her to boiled beef without gravy and a few poultry dishes.
The archbishop, however, indulged in his favorite fish dishes.
It seemed to Cleodora that the king had had every single fish in the Thames river put on the tables because there seemed to be more of it than she’d ever seen in her life.
The eels, in particular, were something she detested and something the archbishop seemed to truly love.
At one point, they brought to every table an enormous raw fish that was elaborately decorated and propped up in order to make it look as if it were still alive.
It was an eye-popping display of excess.
Sadly enough for Cleodora, they placed the fish right in front of her so that she found herself staring into those dead eyes.
But the worst part came when a servant at each table produced a sharp knife and cut the belly of the fish open, spilling forth live eels and other fish, and the diners could select which live creatures they wanted cooked for their meal.
It was the most hideous thing Cleodora had ever seen.
For the rest of the evening, she was forced to stare at that dead fish’s head while its cut-open body continued to drip water and bodily fluids on the table.
At that point, all of the fish and eels that had been trapped in its belly had been taken away and cooked, and the archbishop seemed to thoroughly enjoy his meal of formerly wriggly eels.
Cleodora was left without an appetite after that display.
She found herself wishing, very much, to go home.
But no such luck.
As she sat there in silence, simply presenting a beautiful picture, nothing more, she began to notice how much the archbishop was drinking.
The wine provided for the guests was an expensive vintage from the Aragon region and it was quite sweet and quite potent.
It was usually the goal of these great feasts to get the guests as drunk as possible so they could speak favorably of the event.
London loved to hear about good, and bad, festivities.
Cleodora had been watching the king on the dais since she entered the hall and she saw that he, too, was imbibing heavily of the sweet Spanish wine.
She also noticed something else.
Knights wearing the tunics she had sewn.
Truthfully, that was the only thing she’d really wanted to see this night.
It was the first thing she had looked for upon entering and, even now, she found herself watching those men with a strange sense of pride.
Of course, the man she was watching most of all was Aidric, and he had been extremely busy all evening.
She didn’t even think he had noticed her because he never looked in her direction, which was somewhat disappointing.
But she knew that the man was in charge of the king’s safety and couldn’t be distracted.
Cleodora hadn’t sent a note with the tunics, so she wondered if he realized who had sent them.
Perhaps he didn’t even care.
Quite frankly, that was a disappointing thought.
Cleodora wasn’t sure what she had expected from him.
All she knew was that those brief few moments when she had known him, when he had saved her life, had somehow changed her.
It was difficult to describe other than the fact that he had made her feel worthy of being saved.
But for a man like him in such an important position, it was probably nothing more than a day’s work.
He probably did it every day.
Feeling increasingly disappointed, Cleodora felt the urge to get out of the hall, at least for a few moments, to get a breath of fresh air and clear her mind.
She’d had enough of dead fish and smoke and drunken guests.
An excuse to leave was always the garderobe because she knew that Cambridge wouldn’t restrict her or insist she take a big escort.
Since Filly had come with them, all she really needed was her maid’s help and perhaps a sympathetic ear.
As she hoped, the archbishop let her go with hardly a word.
With Filly’s help, she gathered her enormous dress and made her way out of the east side of the hall.
Since she’d been to Westminster before, twice, she had a general idea of where the garderobes were, located in the buildings along the river for obvious reasons.
Filly was behind her, carrying her train so it wouldn’t drag on the ground, as they entered the building across a small courtyard.
A royal servant had already pointed out the garderobes, and there were separate ones for men and women, so she headed up the stairs to the indicated female facilities.
Using the garderobe was quite a production because Filly had to hold the dress up while Cleodora squatted over the wooden seat with the hole in it.
Once that was finished, and she had cleaned up with a nearby basin of rosewater, they were heading out of the garderobe when they passed by four enormous tracery windows, with elaborate stonework dividing the panes.
They were open and the breeze from the river filtered through.
Since it was a full moon, the moonlight on the river offered a truly beautiful view.
Much nicer than the view in the hall with all of those people, the laughing, the smells of food.
She wasn’t ready to go back in yet.
“M’lady?” Filly said as she stood at the window and felt the breeze on her face. “Are you coming?”
Cleodora sighed. “In a moment,” she said. “Just… let me stand here a moment and enjoy the night before I have to return to that disgusting orgy.”
“Shall I stand with you?”
Cleodora shook her head. “Wait for me at the bottom of the stairs,” she said. “I just need a moment to myself, please.”
“Very well,” Filly said, hesitantly moving to the stairs. “Are you well?”
“I am well.”
“You seem… sad.”
Cleodora gazed at the glistening river, thinking on that comment. “Not sad,” she said. “But not happy. This is my life and I am resigned to it. Leave me alone, please.”
Filly didn’t say anything more. She simply went down the stairs to wait for her mistress at the bottom.
Cleodora leaned against the stone window, looking over the river, but also looking down to see how far up she was.
It was about a three-story drop to the bottom and the river came right up to the building.
She began to wonder if she would survive a jump.
That was what this night had come to—jumping from windows to end her suffering.
The fact that Sir Aidric hadn’t even looked in her direction all night was sure to enrage Cambridge, who had told her to pursue a friendship with the man.
Seduce him.
Kill the king!
Dear God, what had her life come to?