But William soundly ignored her, as he was doing now by trying to snap Boden’s arm in two. Men were betting on who was going to win.
“Well?” William yelled as he tried to twist Boden’s arm. “Who are the men betting on?”
He was yelling at one man in particular, the older sergeant who had a good grasp of command with the men. He’d been with Shrewsbury nearly forty years, and he and the old duke had known each other well. With a grin, the old sergeant checked on the two soldiers who were the bookmakers for the event, and nearly every other event held in the great hall. They were busy organizing the pot, and one man muttered a name to the old sergeant. His smile grew.
“Sir Boden, my lord,” he said. “They are betting on the bigger man.”
William didn’t like that at all. With a shout, he elbowed Boden in the ribs, causing the man to falter. When he did, William jump on him and the two collapsed onto the ground. After that, it was part wrestling match, part fist fight. As Dastan and Syler watched the goings-on, Dastan shook his head.
“Those two are exhausting,” he said. “If they were not such good knights, they would be positively worthless.”
“Agreed, my lord,” Syler said grimly.
Dastan was torn between disgust and amusement as he watched William and Boden throw punches. “Do you know that Dane has three more brothers just like Boden?” he said. “Well, I’m not entirely sure if they are all just like him, but he has at least two that fall into that category. There is a younger brother, Gage, and then an older one, Cort. I have seen them together and they all behave like this.”
Syler was trying not to laugh. “I have no brothers,” he said. “Only sisters, and they do not wrestle like this.”
“Thank God.”
“Should we stop this? Lord Dane will be arriving with the new duchess any moment.”
But Dastan shook his head. “Nay,” he said flatly. “Let the woman see the rowdy family she has married in to. Better she become accustomed to it because I suspect this is what she can expect at her family reunions.”
Syler did laugh at that, turning away from the fighting, as Dastan did, and they made their way back to the dais where the ladies were. They had barely made it to the table when Dane and Grier entered through the enormous front entry.
The women at the table caught sight of the couple first because they were facing the door. Charlisa pointed towards the entry, and Dastan turned to see Dane and Grier making their way across the floor as the crowd of men in the hall parted the way for them.
The fact that Grier was beautifully dressed was not lost on them. Resplendent in the green silk, she was washed and rested, looking nothing like the rather dirty little waif they were acquainted with. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair carefully pinned, and she had a certain grace about her that they hadn’t seen before. It was something that couldn’t be taught, perhaps the innate sense of her bloodlines finally showing its elegance. In any case, the transformation was rather shocking.
“That is the woman we collected from St. Idloes?” Syler asked, awe in his tone.
Dastan nodded. “Indeed, it is,” he said. “God’s Bones, it looks as if she has the making of a duchess, after all. I will admit that I had my doubts.”
Syler nodded in agreement, taking a second look at the woman as Dane brought her to the table. His face was rather prideful as he indicated the exquisite creature next to him.
“My lords,” he said, “my ladies, may I present Grier de Lara de Russe, Duchess of Shrewsbury and Lady of the Trinity Castles. Make her feel welcome in her own hall.”
Charlisa was on her feet, rushing to Grier as her cousin tagged after her. “Lady de Russe,” she greeted. “I was hoping you would feel well enough to attend the feast. It is in your honor, after all. We are very glad to have you.”
Grier smiled into Charlisa’s rosy, beaming face. It was difficult to be standoffish when the lady was so open in her manner. Not that she wanted to be standoffish, but Charlisa made her feel like she wasn’t a stranger at all. Having that kind of instant acceptance of another person, especially another female, was an admirable quality.
“Thank you,” she said, looking at the beautifully set table. “Have you been waiting for me? If you were, my apologies. I did not realize.”
Charlisa shook her head, indicating the cushioned chairs in the center of the table. “Nay, we have not been waiting on you,” she said. “But please be seated. I am sure you are famished.”
Grier headed for the indicated chairs with Dane coming along behind her. “Lady du Reims has been acting as my chatelaine before your arrival,” he told Grier. “She has been quite competent.”
Grier was struggling with the skirt of her green gown; she wasn’t used to the volume and she struggled to move it aside so that she could sit.
“Then I hope she will teach me everything I need to know,” she said, finally pushing it aside. “I am sorry to say that I do not know much about managing a house and hold.”
Charlisa was moving eagerly behind her, taking a seat at Grier’s left hand. “It would be my pleasure, my lady,” she said. “I can help you with anything you wish to know. I fostered at some of the finest homes in England, including Castle Questing. Have you heard of it?”
Grier shook her head, reluctantly. “I am afraid not,” she said. “Where is it?”
“Far to the north,” Charlisa said. “It is the seat of the Earls of Warenton, the de Wolfe family. Surely you have heard of de Wolfe.”
As Grier thought about the name, which she was fairly certain she had never heard before, she caught sight of Charlisa looking past her, over her shoulder. There was someone, or something, greatly annoying her from the look on her face. Whatever it was seemed to be directly down the table, behind Grier. As she turned to see what had the woman irritated, Charlisa spoke.
“My lady, this is my cousin, Lady Laria de Poyer,” she said. “She has only come to Shrewsbury recently to foster under my tutelage. She is Sir Syler’s younger sister.”
Grier quickly noticed the dark-eyed lass who was sitting down at the end of the table, a few seats from Dane. She was a young, little thing who lifted a timid hand to wave when she saw that she had Grier’s attention, and nearly everyone else at the table. Grier smiled at her.
“Greetings, Lady Laria,” she said before returning her attention to Charlisa. “It looks as if you will have two women to tutor. I hope you are patient.”
She said it with a rather foreboding wriggle of the eyebrows and Charlisa giggled her charming little snicker. But ever the dutiful lady, who knew her role in the hall, she quickly lifted her hand to the servants standing on the fringes of the room, near the dais, and they suddenly began to move. Almost immediately, trenchers and bowls of food were being brought to the table, a lavish feast for the eyes as well as for the palate.
The guest of honor had arrived, and the feast had begun.
It was an army of people, moving forward with food and drink as the diners settled down to their meals. Terrified of a repeat of the night before at the inn, Grier was much more timid this time around as food was placed before her. A large trencher with a great hunk of beef was the crown of the meal, surrounded by beans and boiled carrots.
Being that the beef didn’t sit well with her the night before, she didn’t try to grab at it and shove it in her mouth. She simply looked at it, rather fearfully. As she sat there and wondered if she should try to eat it, Dane reached over and took it off of her trencher, putting it on his own.
“Better to remove the temptation,” he said quietly. “We do not want history to repeat itself.”
Grier shook her head quickly, and gratefully, as Dane instructed the servants to give her white bread and butter, and a fruit stew of apples and pears and honey. There was also something called May Eggs, which were eggs that had been partially boiled, the yolks removed and mixed with spices, and then the yolks returned to the eggs and cooked all the way through. They were quite delicious, but Grier only took one
even when Charlisa encouraged her to take another. She begged off politely, even though it was more food than she’d ever seen in one place in her lifetime. She honestly never knew there could be so much food.
Everything smelled and tasted delicious. There wasn’t much conversation while the meal went on, mostly Syler talking about the home in Wales where he was born, Netherworld Castle, and Laria chiming in once in a while. Dastan seemed to be watching William and Boden, still wrestling and knocking over chairs, while Dane and Charlisa were focused on Grier to ensure that she had enough to eat.
After her tasty egg, bread and butter, and a few carrots, Grier wanted another egg so she took one, taking small bites from it so she wouldn’t overwhelm her tender stomach. A servant also brought out fried turnip slices, hot from the kitchen, which were liberally sprinkled with precious salt from the salt stores. They were crunchy and tasty. She must have had too many because, before she realized it, Dane was leaning in her direction.
“Easy, my lady,” he said quietly. “You’ve been quite liberal with the turnip crisps.”
Grier had one halfway to her mouth. Sheepishly, she set it down. “I have not been keeping track,” she admitted. “They are very good.”
Dane smiled at her. “They are,” he said. “But they have also been fried in fat and it may not settle well with your belly. You do not want to overdo it. Here, have some ale.”
He picked up a pitcher from the table and poured a measure into her cup. Grier picked it up, looking at the milky liquid.
“I have not had ale,” she said.
“Never?” he said, interested.
“Not that I can recall. What is in it?”
He shrugged. “I am not an ale wife, but I believe it is made from barley and honey and a little yeast.”
“Is it sweet?”
“Not really,” he said. “The honey is just for flavor. Ales all taste differently depending on the ingredients and who is making it. All ale wives have their own recipes; I have had ale that tasted of lemon, and others of roses. It just depends. What did you drink at the abbey?”
She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Wine,” she said. “But very bad wine. Sometimes we had boiled apple juice, or sometimes just boiled oat water.”
Dane thought boiled oat water sounded terrible, but he didn’t comment. It was just one more distasteful thing about her life at St. Idloes. Instead, he lifted his cup to her.
“No more boiled oat water,” he said. “From now on, you shall only have the finest in your cup. Welcome to Shrewsbury, Lady de Russe. It sounds odd to say that, and probably odder still for you to hear it. To me, Lady de Russe was always my mother. It never occurred to me that it would also be my wife someday.”
Grier smiled faintly as she lifted the heavy pewter cup to him. “It never occurred to me that it would be my name, either.”
He chuckled as he took a healthy swallow of ale. Grier did, too, nearly choking on it as she swallowed it down. It was a strong ale with the distinctive taste of roasted nuts. Dane grinned as he patted her on the back as she coughed.
“Too strong?” he asked.
She stopped coughing, clearing her throat instead. “Nay,” she said. “It is simply… different. It seems thick.”
Dane took another swallow. “You will become accustomed to it. I prefer it over wine.”
Grier wasn’t sure if she did, but she took another drink because he was. She didn’t want him to think she was being rude. As she choked down another swallow, William and Boden appeared in front of the table.
They were sweaty, smiling, and moderately drunk, which wasn’t unusual with them. Red-haired William had his hair plastered to his face with moisture as he picked up another pitcher of ale on the table and held it up.
“Welcome, Lady de Russe,” he said loudly. “We are very glad to see you within these old walls, and I am sure the men are comforted to know that a de Lara is at the helm again. Do you have a few words to say to your loyal men, my lady?”
Grier was mortified at the sudden attention on her. She looked around the hall, and most of the men had come to a halt and were now looking at her as William announced her welcome. She looked at Dane, wordlessly asking the man what she should do, but he took it as a cry for help.
“The lady is exhausted from her journey today, as you can imagine,” he said loudly to the men who were expecting something from her. “She will be more than willing to speak with you at another time, but not tonight. You must be mindful of her frail female constitution.”
Grier was watching the faces of the men as he spoke and she could see the disappointment. Not wanting to make a bad impression on her vassals, and given that she’d never had vassals before, she thought she should say something. She put her hand on Dane’s wrist.
“I will say something,” she said quickly. “Will you allow it?”
He looked at her. “Are you sure? You do not have to, you know. They can wait.”
She nodded, grateful that he was looking out for her. But it was more than that… he was being protective and kind, the same qualities she’d seen from the man since the beginning of their association. Even though their marriage had been unwanted to them both, he’d never made her feel unwelcome or unwanted. She felt as if she owed the man something for that, for certainly, she had been very fortunate to have married such an agreeable man.
A man she was coming to appreciate more by the hour.
“I am certain,” she said. Hesitantly, she stood up, facing the expectant throng and lifting her voice. “Thank you for your kind attention and your warm welcome. I hope in the days to come that we may come to know one another, and you shall think me worthy to be your lady.”
It was a tidy little speech and the men began to cheer. William, who still had the pitcher of ale in his hand, held it up again.
“A toast to Lady de Russe!” he said.
The men shouted in response, downing whatever was in their cups. At the table, Dane and Dastan and Syler stood up, also saluting their new lady with a toast of honor. Dane still had his cup to his mouth when he gently tugged at Grier’s arm.
“Drink,” he said. “That is what they want – to share a drink with you.”
Quickly, Grier collected her cup and choked down more of the thick ale. As she tried not to cough, Boden stepped forward, his cup lifted to the room.
“The House of de Russe is greatly honored to be joined with the House of de Lara,” he shouted. “We will drink to the success of this union.”
More drinking. Dane lifted his cup and so did Grier. She ended up draining it, thinking that it wasn’t so bad now that she’d had a few swallows. It was strong, and thick, but she thought she might be able to become accustomed to the taste. As she set her empty cup to the table, William rushed forward with his half-empty pitcher and poured her a full cup.
“We shall drink to the House of de Lara,” he said loudly. “God rest the soul of Lord Garreth!”
More drinking all the way around as men drank to the memory of their beloved duke. Dane drank, and so did Grier, without coughing this time. It was going down a little smoother now. But she had just managed to swallow the burning drink when one of the men back in the hall held up his cup and began to shout.
“A drink to Lord Garreth’s daughter!” he said. “May she make her father proud, and may we make him proud by honoring her!”
That had the entire room drinking yet again, men pouring ale down their gullets and enjoying every last drop. Dane glanced at Grier, who was now swallowing down her fifth gulp of the strong ale. She looked a little pale, but she didn’t want to disappoint the men. He admired that. Thinking she might need a break from the continual toasts, he held up his cup and spoke loudly.
“Lord Garreth is already proud of you for accepting his daughter with great warmth,” he said, wondering how long he was going to be able to talk before someone made another toast that they couldn’t refuse. “You have served her father well and I know that you will serve me well, also. I am
already proud to know you and to have your fealty. The House of de Russe has a long and important legacy in England, and I am proud to merge that legacy with the great de Lara name.”
“A drink to Lord Dane!” someone shouted.
The entire room lifted their cups again and Dane gave a sigh of regret, turning to Grier and wondering how the poor woman was going to down yet another big drink of ale. Much to her credit, she wasn’t going to insult the men by not accepting their toast. In fact, as he watched, she downed the entire cup and licked her lips.
It was then that Dane knew there was going to be trouble.
“Truly, you do not have to drink anymore,” he muttered to her. “The ale is strong and if you are not used to it, it might make you ill.”
She was looking at him with a rather earnest expression. “I feel well enough,” she insisted. “And I do not want them to think me rude.”
“They will not.”
“But I want for them to like me, as they liked my father.”
“They will,” Dane said, pulling the cup from her hand. “Give them time. For now, sit down and I will turn the men back to their food and games. You have had enough to drink.”
Grier did as she was told. Plopping back in the chair, she wasn’t feeling terrible at all. In fact, she was feeling rather good. The stuffed eggs were near her and she reached out, taking another one and pushing the entire thing into her mouth because it was so delicious. Her stomach was well enough, so she saw no reason not to eat a whole egg. But that egg was followed by another dish on the table, an apple and raisin and almond pudding, and she put her spoon into it, tasting it. It was quite good with honey and cinnamon, so she pulled the bowl over to her and began to eat it.
Meanwhile, there was more drinking going on.
Men were calling to her to have another drink with them and William went so far as to fill up her cup before Dane could stop him. The food was excellent, and Grier was feeling quite good now, so she took another drink with the men and they cheered. She rather liked that feeling, when they all cheered her on, so she took still another drink with them before Dane thanked the men and encouraged them to turn back to their food. He took her cup away from her for a second time.
Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 12