“Aye, lord, there. ” Merren pointed to two lumps that were covered with a smattering of snow.
They approached the bodies of Sir Harris of Bristol and his squire, the news of whose deaths had interrupted the king’s audience with Maris. When Henry learned that they had been found in a state similar to that of Harold of Derkland, he’d sent Dirick posthaste to the scene of the murders.
Now, Dirick dismounted, commanding Nick to stay, and gingerly moved toward the larger body. The new snow that covered the man was not heavy enough to obliterate the splashes of blood that colored the old, crusty snow. Nor was the posture of the man, and that of his squire, to be mistaken.
It was just as it had been described in the earlier events: both men were face down, sprawled on the ground, with their arms bent awkwardly above their heads, each hand meeting that of the other man. It looked as though they’d fallen from some great height while clasping each other’s wrists. Sir Harris’s neck was broken, and his throat slit so that his head flipped back eerily onto his shoulders, blank eyes gaping up into the falling snow.
“Try this, my lady. ” Agnes knelt at Maris’s feet, holding a finely crafted leather slipper.
Maris slid a foot into the embroidered shoe, then the other into a second. “’Tis a good fit,” she mused. “I was not so certain in light of the haste in its making, but Lady Madelyne assured me the shoemaker would meet my needs. ”
“Aye, and th
e seamstress as well,” nodded her maid as she stood to survey her mistress. “The gown becomes you, lady. ”
“At the least it is more stylish,” Maris replied with a shrug. Yet, she was more pleased than her words indicated.
Upon Lady Madelyne’s suggestion, she’d retained a tailor and his seamstresses to create a gown from the store of material she’d brought from Langumont. Now, only two days after her arrival, she was dressed more like the other ladies clustering about the queen in her chambers.
The undertunic and bliaut were cut to fit more closely than her old gowns, making her feel a bit self-conscious about how well they molded to her hips and breasts. The girdle of gold links wrapped thrice about her waist, and its ends dangled nearly to the floor. And the sleeves of her pine hued bliaut were so long and wide that Agnes had tied knots in the ends of them so that Maris would not tread upon the yellow and orange embroidery that decorated their cuffs.
A heavy necklet of rubies and one large emerald sat about her neck, and three rings adorned her hands. Though Maris never wore such amounts of jewelry at Langumont, Allegra had warned that she must decorate herself so at court, else the strength and wealth of her title be questioned. Agnes had plaited her long red-brown hair into four braids and stuffed them into heavy gold hair-cases, then covered her head with a fine gold veil.
A knock came at the door and the maid opened it to find Lady Madelyne, along with her cousin by marriage, Lady Judith of Kentworth.
“You look lovely,” Madelyne said, her moonstone eyes lighting with approval. “I cannot believe how quickly the seamstresses worked. ” Her hand rested on a subtly-rounded belly that rose beneath her own gowns, hardly noticeable in the voluminous folds of her skirt.
Judith, whose coppery hair shone from beneath a sheer wimple, agreed. “It isn’t that you weren’t dressed finely before, but now those lady cats can sheath their claws and keep their comments about country mice to themselves,” she said. “Although,” she added, looking at Maris with dancing blue eyes, “I suspect that you would have no problems clipping any claws that came too near you. Verily, that emerald is the size of a goose egg!”
Maris looked down at the jewel, suddenly uncertain. “Is it too large? Will the queen be annoyed?” She didn’t care if the other ladies envied her jewels, but she surely didn’t wish to flaunt her wealth if it would insult the queen.
“Oh, nay,” Judith said, laughing merrily. “’Twill just cause her to suggest that her husband raise the rents and taxes on Langumont. She will say that you obviously have too much excess in your coffers!” She looked at Madelyne, still grinning. “At the least you aren’t hiding them beneath your trunks, as Maddie tried to do. ”
Madelyne gave a soft laugh when Maris looked at her in surprise. “Judith speaks the truth. I had to become used to wearing such baubles when I came to court, for I’d spent nearly a decade cloistered in an abbey, where everything was very simple. Even now, Gavin feels the need to prod me into showing off my finery. ”
“Very well, then,” Maris said, comfortable now. “I shall flaunt my jewels beneath the queen’s very nose. Shall we be off?”
Upon entering the Great Hall, the three women made their way toward the trestle tables where Eleanor’s other ladies in waiting were seated. After her brief audience with the beautiful but austere queen two days earlier, Maris had been given a firm royal invitation—which amounted to nothing less than an order—to join Eleanor’s court until further notice.
The ladies had to pass in front of the royal dais as they wended their way through the rows of tables and hoards of self seeking courtiers. Intent upon her feet and their placement, Maris didn’t look up at the royal couple and their supper guests until Madelyne paused to sweep a curtsey in front of the queen.
“You look well, Lady Madelyne,” Eleanor said from her high seat. “Your condition agrees with you, and your husband too, I trow. ”
“Thank you, your majesty,” Madelyne replied in her easy, serene way. “I only hope to look as fine and healthy as you have after the babe comes. ”
Eleanor, who had just given birth a month earlier, smiled and gave her a look that seemed to say, Mayhap you will be as fortunate…but ’tis unlikely. “And good evening, Lady Maris,” said the queen, turning her attention from Madelyne. “I see that you have been visited by a seamstress since yestereve. And you have unearthed such lovely jewels from your trunks. ”
“Aye, indeed, your Majesty,” Maris murmured, curtseying first to Eleanor and then to Henry. As she straightened, her gaze fell upon a tall figure just settling into his seat near the king.
Sir Dirick.
Their gazes clashed for a moment—his stormy blue and gray, remote and impersonal—before Maris pulled hers away.
But her heart was pounding and her palms felt clammy, and even the insides of her belly felt as if a flock of birds had taken flight therein. As her heart thumped in her throat, Maris kept her gaze averted and her chin lifted proudly. She gathered her skirts and followed Madelyne and Judith when they turned from the dais.
This was the first she’d seen of Dirick since their meeting in the king’s chambers two days earlier. One of the ladies had gossiped that Sir Dirick had been sent off on the king’s business, and Maris had hoped for his return to be long in coming.
Yet even as she took her seat, gracefully gathering up her gown to swing it over the bench, the image of his solemn face was foremost in her mind. In that brief moment, she’d noted how tired he looked. His face was drawn and deep lines creased his lean, tan cheeks. His thick, dark hair was pulled unstylishly from his face and tied at the nape of his neck.