Warrior's Song (Medieval Song 1)

“Will Lord Richard’s men or Lady Dorothy’s ladies lead the bride to her wedding chamber?” Sir Andrew shouted.

“And who will do the mounting? Sir Jerval, be you the stallion or the mare?”

Jerval yelled, “You, Hubert, and you, Mark, see that I am blessed to have both a mare and a stallion. I will have the joy of mounting and being mounted.”

Richard rose suddenly from his great chair and banged his knife handle onto the table for quiet. “Avery,” he shouted, “bring in the three men.”

Jerval looked on in surprise as three filthy men, pale from their weeks in Croyland’s dungeon, were dragged into the Great Hall by Avery and Ellis and shoved to their knees before Lord Richard.

Chandra watched her father draw a parchment from the full sleeves of his robe and wave it toward the men. “Listen well,” he shouted. “This parchment is for your master, Lord Graelam de Moreton, from our beloved King Henry. I release you to return to your lord. You will tell him that the prize he sought will never be his. He will live the rest of his life knowing that my daughter is another man’s wife. The king herewith orders that he will pay half of all Croyland’s taxes for the next full year in just retribution for his actions.” Richard thrust the parchment into one of the men’s hands. “Tell your lord that the king has saved his lands from my revenge. Go now.”

Richard smiled down at his daughter and bowed. “My gift to you, Chandra. Now, the dancing.”

Time slowed, then stilled entirely. Jerval looked at Lord Richard, saw that he was staring at the two of them, and he didn’t want to know what Chandra’s father was thinking.

They danced until, finally, Jerval returned Chandra to her chair, amid more drunken wit and advice that left her pale and wild-eyed, and said to Lord Richard, “It is time. I do not wish her to be embarrassed more. I will see to her if you will control all the guests, and my family.”

Lord Richard looked at his daughter and slowly nodded. He was afraid that she would bolt, and Jerval saw the fear on his face. He felt it as well.

“You do not wish to follow the traditional bedding?”

Jerval shook his head. “Nay, not with her. She has drunk a goodly amount of wine, but still, I—”

“You’re afraid she will run?”

“Aye.”

“Go then. I will hold everyone here.”

In Chandra’s bedchamber, the women had been busy. There were rosebuds strewn on the rushes, incense that smelled of lilac filled the air and the nostrils, and a dozen wax candles were lit.

It was warm and a

bit dizzying in the room.

She turned slowly to look at her husband, his back against the closed door, his arms crossed over his chest.

“It has come to pass,” she said, standing in the middle of the room, looking blankly around her. “You are here in my bedchamber, and it is expected that you be here. I cannot hurl you out.”

“Nay, you cannot. I hope that you do not wish to, now that I am your husband.”

“I am not certain. I know nothing about this, Jerval. Perhaps it is troubling.”

“Troubling? Not at all, sweeting. It is pleasure I will give you, I swear. Now, I have thought of this moment, Chandra. Come here.”

He doubted she would obey him, but it didn’t matter. He simply wanted to see what she would do. Her eyes were a bit glazed from the wine she’d drunk. Mayhap she had drunk enough so that she wouldn’t fight him.

Fight him? Mayhap go for his throat. She was strong, this wife of his.

“Come here,” he said again, and waited.

She picked up the skirts of her beautiful silk gown and slowly walked to him. “Aye, sir?”

She was looking up at him, no fear on her face. By all the saints’ elbows, she was beautiful. He knew he had to go slowly, very slowly. She was a maid, and despite all her knowledge of men and their ways, despite the fact that the wine she had drunk had eased her, she was as ignorant as a stoat.

“I’m going to kiss you now. Put your arms around me.”

She did; then, to his surprise, she raised her face. It was almost more than he could bear. He kissed her mouth, very lightly, no threat at all, just a beginning exploration, a savoring.