My Lady's Favour

Chapter 3

Richard

Watching that beautiful maid being ignored by my cousin angers me, though I don't show it. If she were sharing my platter, I wouldn't be able to take my eyes off her. It's a struggle, feigning indifference, so I call for more wine to take the edge off my annoyance.

But as the serving boy tilts the pitcher, the handle breaks off, and the cursed thing lands in my lap, splashing wine everywhere, like the spurt from a mortal wound.

Only my pride is harmed, but a heavy hush descends, and the steward leaps forward to catch the hapless boy by the ear.

"Nay, nay!" I tug the man's arm down. "It was not the boy's fault—'twas just my infernal bad luck. Don't punish him for my misfortune."

I gaze around to ensure approval, earning a disinterested shrug from Gilbert before he returns to his meat. But his companion has more to offer. The delightful damsel I rescued earlier stands and apologises for the poor quality of pitcher kept at Waltham castle, and passes me a clean napkin to mop the wine from my tunic. Sweet lady! But my cousin stiffens and scowls, so she sits down immediately and stares into her goblet, her cheeks as red as the wine therein.

"Thank you, my lady," I say loudly, so all can hear. "Now you know why the colour of my house is darkest red." I'm making a jest, to ease her embarrassment. "It conceals the evidence of my misfortunes, of both blood and wine!"

She shoots me the briefest of questioning glances, and I perceive the openness of her heart, so I answer her unspoken question. "I bear my ill-luck as best I can. I know that things will never change, so I learn to laugh at myself, take life lightly, and enjoy good fortune twice as much because it is a rarity. I have met with good fortune twice already this day, lady."

I'm looking directly at her, silently thanking her for caring about my bad luck. No one else cares—'tis but a jest with them.

"So, am I not to learn the name of the damsel who's come to my rescue?" I ask, as I mop at my jupon and hose.

Gilbert answers for her. "This is Elena of Bucknell," he says, his chin lifting.

Ah. Who can ever forget that name? This lady's father took up the sword against the young King Edward, in support of his mother Isabella and her lover, Mortimer. Edward triumphed in that conflict, and all who supported his enemies were slain or ransomed heavily, their lands seized, and their children taken as Wards of the King. Perhaps the Lady Elena was one of these—she could only have been around ten summers at the time. Just old enough to understand how shamefully her father had acted, but just young enough to be convinced some of his sin was her own, and that she must atone for it.

Even so, Gilbert might have spared her the embarrassment of using her full name in front of everyone. She keeps her eyes dutifully down, pushing the food around on the platter. I pity her.

But there's little I can do except steer the conversation away from her, and resume my meal. It's good, I grant you; the lambs at this time of year are not too tough, poultry is fat and healthy, and the late spring vegetables are tender and tasty in the mouth.

Hiding my smile, I notice one of the castle dogs has crept up to Lady Elena under the table. Instead of cuffing it away from the board, she feeds it titbits, and strokes its silky head. Little wonder she chooses to befriend it. Being a traitor's child must make her feel very alone.

She looks up and catches me watching her, so I wink. She stares back at me for a full minute before remembering her manners and looking down in confusion. I'm secretly pleased I can discomfit her so, and am tempted to try it again. Shame on me! This wine must be stronger than I think.

Time passes pleasantly enough until the remains of the feast are cleared away. The noise from further down the hall increases, and snatches of song mingle with the sound of earthenware crocks clinking in the skivvies' arms. Dogs growl low where they lurk in their corners grumbling over bones, and I look up to see Dame Aline marshalling her ladies to perform for the company.

I sit up straighter. If the Lady Elena is called upon to parade her skills, I'll be able to gaze my fill without causing offence.

Which pleases me greatly.

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