Page 39 of The Rose at Twilight

He reached for her left hand and slipped a ring on the third finger, saying, “With this ring I thee wed, and this gold and silver I thee give, and with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly chattel I thee honor.”

She looked at the ring, surprised to see that it was a miniature replica of his own, different only in that the golden wyvern was quartered with the arms of Wolveston, emblazoned in their proper colors by enamel applied to the base of the setting, then carved into the white sapphire above.

The colors showed through the transparent stone, their effect heightened by its brilliance.

Delight surged through her, and she looked up at him, her pleasure in his gift evident to everyone.

The archbishop cleared his throat, and becoming aware of the silence filling the abbey beyond him, Alys realized that he had already prompted her to speak her lines.

Dread filled her that she had forgotten them, but the phrases came to her, and she looked directly into Sir Nicholas’s eyes when she spoke them.

“I, Alys Anne Wolveston, do take thee, Sir Nicholas Merion, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold, for fair for foul, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to be meek and obedient in bed and at board, till death us depart, for this time forward, and if holy church it will ordain, and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

The trumpets rang out again, and the whole procession moved inside the abbey, bride and groom to kneel on satin cushions before the archbishop at the altar rail, all others to take their places in the pews behind them for the nuptial mass.

When the mass was done, the procession reversed itself to return to the palace for the wedding feast.

The great hall rang with music and the roar of four hundred voices laughing and talking while they found their places at the tables that had been set out below the dais.

The scene reminded Alys of the feast that followed the Tudor’s wedding to Elizabeth, but this time she and Sir Nicholas sat at the high table with the royal couple.

Not until she was actually sitting beside him did Alys attempt to think calmly about what was happening around her, and to search for familiar faces in the crowd.

She saw Sir Lionel Everingham, who looked disdainful, and Lord Briarly, who looked more as if he were at a funeral than a wedding feast. Hugh Gower towered above the other men, and there was Lincoln, smiling and elegant.

She saw Lady Emlyn and one or two others she knew, but not Madeline.

She wished Madeline might have sat with them on the dais, but she was somewhere below, no doubt flirting with one gentleman or another, or laughing and chatting with other ladies in waiting.

Alys reached for the gold goblet on the table before her, but Sir Nicholas’s hand caught hers and squeezed it.

“Not yet, mi geneth ,” he murmured close to her ear. “Wait until the king drinks his toast to us.”

Flushing, she realized she had not thought about what she was doing, that she had nearly committed a grave error.

There was a swish of silken skirts behind her, and she turned to see that Elizabeth had risen from her place beside the king and now stood directly behind her.

Awkwardly, Alys also rose, well aware that it would not do to push her chair into Elizabeth, and aware too that Elizabeth had meant the situation to be awkward.

“Madam?” she said, curtsying as best she might under the circumstances and rising without awaiting permission to do so. “Did you desire to speak to me?”

“Yes, I did,” Elizabeth said in her soft voice. “I requested permission of his noble grace to sit beside you for a time, whilst we eat, since you will no doubt prefer the company of a woman at such a time as this. ’Tis a pity that your mother and father did not live to enjoy this day with you.”

Sir Nicholas having also risen, overheard, and said with a smile, “Your kindness, madam, is a byword, and I have no doubt that my wife is particularly grateful for it on this occasion. The day has been a full one, and she has had few to support her.”

“But you, sir, also have had to celebrate this day of days unsupported by your family,” Elizabeth said.

“’Tis kind of you to express such sentiment, madam,” Sir Nicholas said, smiling again at her, “but ’twould have taken more than a fortnight at this season for my father and brothers to learn of the occasion and ride to London.”

“Perchance,” Elizabeth said, shooting a glance at Alys, “you will desire to take your bride from us, sir, to introduce her to your family and the wilderness of Wales.”

Unable to remain silent longer, Alys said, “I am told that Wales is not so wild as we have thought, madam. Sir Nicholas has told me that many things there are much the same as in England.”

“Nevertheless,” Elizabeth said, “you must long to see your future home, Alys dear.”

“Wolveston Hazard is my home, madam,” Alys said firmly. “No one will ever—”

“Will you not sit down, madam,” Sir Nicholas cut in swiftly, drawing Alys aside and turning her chair so that Elizabeth might sit.

Glancing at the king to see that he was conversing at that moment with a black-robed nobleman who had stepped onto the dais, he went on smoothly, “Alys may have my chair, and I shall sit in his grace’s place for the present.

That way I can sit by my bride as I am expected to do, and we may all be comfortable. ”

When Elizabeth and Alys had sat down again, he said, “My duties with the king will keep me from presenting Alys to my family for some time yet, madam, but I should be pleased to tell you about Wales if you like. Many of our laws will seem unusual to you. For example, my father’s home will one day come to me as the eldest son, but by our laws, only a third of his land will be mine, for I have two brothers and we must share the wealth. ”

Elizabeth, arranging her skirts more to her liking, said to him across Alys, “I have heard about these strange laws, sir. How odd it would be if royal lands were to be thus divided.”

“Odd!” Alys exclaimed. “Why, considering the battles that have been fought these thirty years past, I should say—”

Elizabeth’s arched brows rose; however, it was not that sign of disapproval which silenced Alys but Sir Nicholas’s foot treading hard upon her own. Stifling a squeal of pain and indignation, she said through clenched teeth, “I do apologize, madam. War is not a fit subject for such a day.”

“No,” Elizabeth said, “and we must not speak at all just now, for my husband is about to make his toast.”

The king’s toast was but the first of many, and when those proposed by members of the court had ended, the entertainment began.

Minstrels, jugglers, a rope dancer, and a play were all interrupted by more toasts, each of which had to be returned by the bridal couple.

By the time the king and Elizabeth retired, and Madeline and several other ladies came to accompany Alys to the bridal chamber, she had drunk much more than her fill.

She rose tipsily from her chair, put her hand upon Sir Nicholas’s arm to draw his attention away from the gentleman with whom he was speaking, and attempted to curtsy to him.

He caught her before she fell, and steadied her, saying with a chuckle to Madeline, “Get her ladyship to bed, lass, and do what you may to keep her awake until I get there. I’ve no wish to find my new wife snoring and dead to the world.”

Laughing, Madeline said, “I shall attend to her, sir, never fear. Take my arm, Alys. It will not do for you to appear ape drunk before this company. Not,” she added with a sapient look around the hall, “that any of them are much the better for drink than you are. It is to be hoped they will be satisfied to snatch a few bride laces and leave your virtue intact.”

“How now!” Sir Nicholas said with a frown.

“She must not be troubled on her way by any drunken louts. You there!” he called to one of the yeoman servants.

“Find several other stout lads, and attend the Lady Merion and her attendants to my chamber. I will give you half an hour, Mistress Fen-lord, to prepare her.”

Finally, accompanied by a chorus of ribald comments from the company, most members of whom would not have dared, even in their besotted condition to shout such things had his noble grace still been present, Alys and her ladies took their leave.

Having passed most of the day in a state of confusion and a sense of unreality, Alys felt numb again and was having all she could do to keep from disgracing herself before she escaped.

The bridal chamber, on the other side of the palace, was one of the apartments set aside for those of the king’s favorites who merited rooms in whatever royal residence he chose to occupy.

There were two rooms, an anteroom that served as a sitting room or parlor, and the large bedroom behind, where a fire crackled merrily in the hooded fireplace between two tall windows, and where Jonet awaited her charge.

Since it was Sir Nicholas’s chamber, Alys had not seen it before, but her belongings had been transferred there during the day, and her brushes and bottles graced the elegant dressing table with its Venetian mirror and velvet-covered stool.

Never had she owned such a piece of furniture, and she stared at it now in amazement.

“How beautiful,” she said.

Madeline, beside her, peering into the glass, was likewise impressed. “Any woman with that mirror cannot help but look her best every day. But here is the hot bath I commanded!”

“Not so hot, my lady,” Jonet said quietly, looking with open disapproval at the giggling, laughing group of women who had accompanied them from the corridor and were trying now to follow them into the bedchamber. “Must they all be here?” she asked.

Madeline turned to look, called out the names of three, and said, “You may stay to help, but the rest of you must wait in the outer room to bar the way to any gentleman who attempts to offer assistance. Go now. Shoo!”

Laughing even more, the others left, and she shut the door behind them, muffling their chatter.

Madeline turned briskly. “Isabel,” she said to the first helper, a tall brunette, “turn down the bed and fluff the pillows; Marjory”—to a small, plump blond—“fetch out Lady Alys’s green silk robe from that leathern coffer; and Sarah,” she said to the third, a meek-looking girl, “you attend to the candles and stand guard over that door. I do not want an invasion of this room. Jonet, I will help you.”

Alys, feeling as if the room were closing in on her, had moved toward the nearest window embrasure, hoping to find, behind the heavy blue curtain that matched the bed hangings, that the window was open. She desperately wanted a breath of fresh air.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Madeline said, laughing when she caught her.

“’Tis a bath for you, my lady bride, to waken you, and to freshen you after your long day in that heavy gown.

Your husband will not want to cuddle a lady who reeks of smoke from the hall fires and the stench of grease from too many trenchers and too many unwashed bodies.

Moreover, it will help you stay awake until he arrives.

I, for one, would not wish to face him had I failed to obey his command, for I do not think Sir Nicholas a man with whose orders one might safely trifle. ”

“Sir Nicholas …” Alys began in a grim tone, but Madeline interrupted before she could say more.

“No time for chatter,” she said. “Jonet, is that tub ready for her ladyship?”

“Aye,” Jonet replied, “though it is no longer hot, mistress, as I tried to tell you. The men brought the water an hour ago.”

“That will not signify. Marry, ’tis no doubt better thus.

” While she talked, she rapidly divested Alys of her clothing, and as soon as that was done, urged her toward the bath.

The world had steadied a bit during the walk from hall to bedchamber, but Alys was by no means recovered, and the room was filled now with the scents of burning logs, bath herbs and perfume, scents that generally delighted her but which she now found cloying and distressing to her senses.

Her stomach churned when she drew near the tub, and she said, “Where are the bath curtains? This is unseemly.”

“Do not be difficult,” Madeline said crisply. “You are to go naked to the marriage bed, my girl, so let us have no untimely modesty now. Make haste lest the gentlemen arrive.”

“Gentlemen!”

“Aye, for although the king has proclaimed that there shall be no unseemliness about these celebrations, one cannot count upon the gentlemen to remember that now that their noble graces have retired. Better you should be safe in your bed.”

Shocked by the thought that she might have to face a roomful of drunken men, Alys stepped more quickly than she might have done into the tub, only to find that Jonet’s prediction was correct; the bath could make no claim whatever to warmth.

When she cried out, however, her assistants forced her down into the tub, sponging her thoroughly despite her protests, but being mercifully brief in their ministrations.

A few moments later, she stood up again, shivering despite the fire, and accepted with profound gratitude the huge towel Jonet wrapped around her.

They dried her and perfumed her, but there was no need for her green robe, for it was with only scant moments to spare that they urged her into the bed before the door opened without any ceremony whatever.

If there had been any increase or decrease in the noise level from the anteroom, no one, including the meek damsel standing guard at the door, had noticed the fact.

Sir Nicholas stood on the threshold, a bevy of feminine faces leering over his shoulder at the bedchamber but without any sign of accompanying gentlemen. Alys sighed in relief but huddled under the quilts, her clenched fists gripping the covers tight against her naked body.

Sir Nicholas grinned at Madeline. “Many thanks, lass. I see she is awake and ready to receive her husband. You may go.”

Jonet, curtsying, said, “I shall send for lads at once to remove the bath, sir.”

“No need,” he said brusquely, his ardent gaze fixed upon the figure in the bed. “Get thee gone now, every last one of you.”

The ladies fled, leaving him alone with his bride.