Page 7 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)

T he great hall was filled with troubadours, and for once, Alais hardly noticed. She was ensconced by the enormous hearth with her bevy of suitors, her mother keeping a watchful eye from a discreet distance as the other guests caroused and got drunk on wine from the de Vere cellars.

Sir Victor also looked on from the other side of the room, although he pretended to be otherwise occupied every time that she tried to meet his gaze. Surely, he couldn’t be concerned for her safety in such a public setting. Did he think one of her suitors was going to leap upon her unexpectedly? The thought made her want to giggle…unlike the sorry joke Lord Guy just made.

She should be enjoying this. Wasn’t this what every girl dreamed of, to be surrounded by attractive men vying for her hand? Instead, she was bored out of her mind. She wished they would talk about politics and court intrigue, but they all resolutely refused to say a word that wasn’t either a compliment or a comment on the weather.

“Lady Alais,” Lord Alphonse and Lord Guy said at the same time. They exchanged looks of annoyance thinly disguised as polite surprise.

“After you, Lord Guy,” said Lord Alphonse.

“No, no. After you,” said Lord Guy, smiling nicely but looking daggers at Lord Alphonse.

“Oh dear. I seem to have dropped my handkerchief,” she improvised quickly. “Whichever of you retrieves it for me should speak first.”

They both dove for it. Lord Guy got there first. Unfortunately, Lord Alphonse was holding wine and spilled a bit on Lord Guy’s cotte.

“Look what you’ve done, you sorry oaf,” Lord Guy grumbled under his breath but not so quietly that she couldn’t hear every word. He seemed to realize his gaffe because he rose and announced, “My lady,” he said aloud, “You are as beautiful as the morning sun. You outshine every other lady in this room.”

It took every bit of her willpower not to roll her eyes. “Thank you, Lord Guy,” she said politely, attempting not to show any sign of favor through word or deed.

“I was going to say you are celestial, my lady,” said Lord Alphonse, not to be outdone by his rival. “You sparkle like the night sky, pure and serene as an angel from heaven.”

Oh, Good Lord preserve me. “You are too kind, Lord Alphonse,” she answered, taking her handkerchief back from Lord Guy.

Lord Alphonse had designated himself her wine bearer and sat by her left side, handing her goblet with a lingering touch of the fingers whenever she wished a drink. Unfortunately, he kept stealing quaffs himself when he thought she was distracted, and he was starting to list a bit to the side. She didn’t want to marry a drunkard, so he was probably off the list for serious consideration, even if his mouth did look inviting and kissable.

The handsome Sir Robert stood behind her, a possessive hand resting on her right shoulder. He’d wrapped his velvet cloak around her shoulders the moment she mentioned a slight chill and had kept his hand in contact with her ever since, as if giving her the cloak gave him an excuse. Not that she minded. She found herself nestling into his touch and adjusting her posture to give him a better view down over her shoulder to her chest. He was still the front runner, though she had yet to determine what his views were on Lady Helisende. Despite her attraction to him, she hesitated to tell her family to accept on her behalf. She wasn’t sure why she was putting him off, but there was no need to rush this more than her parents already were.

Sitting across from her was Lord Guy, strumming the same three chords over and over on a lute he’d borrowed from one of the troubadours. He kept mumbling, “No, wait. No, wait. Ah, here it is,” every time his fingers fumbled a chord. Clearly, he fancied himself a musical genius. It was kind of adorable how inept he was, though also a little bit hard on the ears.

Lord Louis sat beside Lord Guy looking more like a chaperone than a suitor, and Sir Elias stood by the fire, saying nothing, but watching her intently with those unnerving blue eyes.

“Sir Elias,” she said, attempting to draw him out. “I’ve heard that tensions have eased between the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Archbishop of York after the king’s intervention in their jurisdiction dispute. Do you happen to know the details of how things were settled?”

Sir Elias’s gaze sharpened, though she wasn’t sure how that was possible. “My lady, I don’t think—”

“You needn’t worry your lovely head with such matters,” Lord Alphonse interrupted, drunkenly. “Especially on such a pleasant, fall day. The air is quite crisp, don’t you think?”

Not the weather again!

Her hands balled into fists as she struggled to bring her irritation in check. A glance at Sir Elias told her he was ready to murder Lord Alphonse where he stood.

“Lord Guy,” she said quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation. “Do you know any troubadour love songs?”

She didn’t really want to hear one at the moment, but she had to do something.

“Oh, uh…of course, my lady,” he said. He looked thoroughly flummoxed. She was going to regret asking, she could already tell.

“By the fountain in the orchard, where the grass is green…” he began to sing. If one could call the off-key honk of a goose being strangled singing. Alais watched in alarm as Sir Victor—on the other side of the room, but never out of eyesight—turned his head in what appeared to be alarm. And, she was sorry to note, he wasn’t the only one.

Lord Guy’s voice was dreadful. She had to put an end to this, and quickly. Before she could think of a polite interruption, Victor joined the group and leaned to ask Lord Guy if he could borrow the lute to settle a bet.

“What was the bet?” Lord Guy demanded, obviously reluctant to surrender the lute.

“Three silver pieces that I don’t know all the word for Guillaume IX’s ‘My friends, I had such dismal fare.’” Sir Victor reached for the lute, clearly unwilling to take no for an answer. Alais hadn’t heard the song he mentioned and was hoping he might oblige with a performance. After all, she knew any song he knew by heart was unlikely to be suitable for her ears, which made it all the more interesting.

“Who was this bet with?” Lord Guy grumbled.

“Lord Daniel.”

Alais smiled. Even Lord Guy wasn’t bold enough to interfere with something involving Lord Daniel. Sir Victor took the lute. Alais and Lord Guy both looked around to see where Lord Daniel was. He was absorbed in a battle of verse with a troubadour from Dover who sang some clever verse earlier in the evening.

Sir Victor didn’t bother to look around. He wasn’t even pretending the bet was real. Lord Guy was no longer singing, and that was all that mattered. While she admired his quick thinking, she couldn’t help but poke at him—he was so fun to poke at, after all.

“Sir Victor,” she said, “I don’t believe I’ve heard the song you mentioned before. Perhaps you might sing it for us while Lord Daniel finishes his business with that troubadour from Dover.”

His brows furrowed and he gave a miniscule shake of his head, intended only for her, but she was having none of it.

“Please, Sir Victor. Humor me.”

He took a deep breath and swallowed. Her various suitors shifted in irritation, trying to pretend they didn’t mind.

Lord Guy looked askance. “I’m not sure that’s suitable for—”

“I’m sure Sir Victor wouldn’t sing anything unsuitable, especially to me,” she said before he could finish. “ Would you, Sir Victor?”

Sir Victor gave her a strained smile.

“See, gentlemen? He would never do anything that was not proper.” She tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes at him, almost certain she could hear his blood boiling in his veins. She smiled and she knew it was the brightest of smiles, because this time it wasn’t for show. For the first time all day, she was enjoying herself.

“Surely, you don’t want to hear Sir Victor sing when there is so much other talent in this room,” Sir Robert said, caressing her shoulder and squeezing it. Something in Sir Victor’s face hardened at the sight.

“Oh, I think I would,” she said, tucking a stray strand of hair back into her golden hair net. “He’s been hiding his talent. I’d like to hear what he has to offer.”

Sir Robert leaned close to her ear. “Surely, my lady, any one of us would be a better—” Sir Victor strummed his first chord with confidence, and Sir Elias stepped back with wide eyes.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Lord Louis whispered loudly, but Sir Victor ignored him, strumming several more chords, and then plucking a lively melody.

“My friends, I had such dismal fare,” he began in a gruff but surprisingly tuneful baritone. “I must my own vexation share.” He caught Alais’s eye for a moment but swiftly looked away. “Not that you need to be aware. It’s truly only my affair.”

Lord Alphonse perked up from his drunken stupor. “Hey, I know this one,” he chimed in happily.

“But I shall sing, and you shall see,” Sir Victor continued. “That these three things do not please me: a queen under guard, a pond without fish—”

“Those aren’t the words,” Lord Alphonse objected, swaying slightly in his chair. “It isn’t ‘queen,’ it’s c—”

“—and worthless boasts and flattery,” Sir Victor sang loudly, drowning out whatever Lord Alphonse was about to say as his fingers flew over the strings. He was an unexpectedly capable musician, though she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. He was capable of most everything he undertook.

As he continued to sing, he winked at her, and Sir Robert’s caresses became a death grip. She turned to give Sir Robert a look, and he murmured an apology, loosening his pinching fingers.

Sir Elias, she noticed, had turned his icy stare on Sir Victor. There was something smug in his look that Alais didn’t like. But why would Sir Elias have views about Victor? How could they have met? Did it have something to do with the tensions between Sir Victor’s aunt and the Archbishop?

Meanwhile, Lord Guy looked on with barely contained irritation. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate being shown up.

In spite of the various lords’ reactions, Sir Victor’s performance was well received by those nearby who were not in competition for her attention. He began to draw a crowd. By the time he’d finished the song, half the room had gathered round. Alais had no idea why he was so shy about singing. He was an expert performer. Even Daniel and the troubadour from Dover were watching by the end.

“You really do know every word of everything Guillaume IX composed,” Daniel said, giving an appreciative nod.

“Well, he did change a few words,” the troubadour from Dover chimed in.

“Embellishing for the lady, no doubt, as any singer worth his salt should,” Daniel said, inclining his head toward Alais. “Sir Victor, can I borrow that lute? I wanted to play something I’ve been working on for our friend Bertrand here.”

Sir Victor handed it over, and Lord Guy looked on, defeated. With a friendly nod in her direction, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Alais feeling slightly bereft. No, that would be silly with five suitors sitting here with me, though I confess I’m barely interested in entertaining them.

“Finally, he’s gone,” Sir Robert mumbled.

What did he have against Sir Victor? Weren’t they cousins?

“Do you visit your aunt, Lady Helisende, often?” she asked, wondering if the hostility had something to do with their conniving aunt.

“She’s not my aunt, I’m afraid. My father’s brother married her sister, so while we’re distantly related through marriage, there’s no direct connection. And thank heavens for that, because she doesn’t like me very much. She’s always preferred my cousin,” he said, casting a dark glance at Victor.

Well, that was interesting. It was a relief to know he wasn’t close to Lady Helisende, but the mystery of his enmity toward Sir Victor only grew.

Abruptly, he moved to stand in front of her, offering her his hand, and when she took it, he helped her to stand. “My lady, I was hoping you could tell me about that tapestry over there. It has a most unusual floral pattern,” he said, offering her an arm with the clear intent of leading her away from the other suitors. Alais took his arm and followed his lead. Perhaps they could find a quiet spot for kissing. She wouldn’t mind that at all.

Unfortunately, her mother saw as they passed.

“Sir Robert,” the baroness said. “Did I hear you say you were interested in that tapestry over there? I’m so flattered you find it interesting. Some of the needlework is my own, you know. I’d be happy to show it to you and tell you anything you want to know.”

Defeated, Sir Robert was forced to excuse himself and take her mother’s arm, and Alais had to return to the other suitors who, if she was being honest, were boring her to tears. Sheep, one and all , she thought to herself. With the possible exceptions of Sir Robert and Sir Elias. Though she didn’t particularly fancy the idea of finding herself with Sir Elias. He was so stiff, and he hardly ever spoke. And she was certain he was about to dismiss her question about Canterbury when Lord Alphonse interrupted. Not to mention that the intense gaze thing was beginning to wear on her.

As she settled back into her seat, she cast a wistful gaze about, looking for Sir Victor. He’d rescued her once. Any chance he might do so again? Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found.

Time dragged on as she waited for the evening to end. Her mother refused to relinquish Sir Robert, which meant she was stuck with the others and their tiresome conversation for the rest of the night.

To her surprise, Lord Louis was her savior. None of the others had anything interesting to say, but then Lord Louis began to regale her with marvelous stories about her father in his youth and all the mischief he used to get up to. He was still too old to consider as a husband, but he was a gifted storyteller, and that was entertaining.

At last, the evening came to an end. Hopefully, she could arrange with her mother to meet her suitors individually going forward. Managing them as a group was grueling. There had to be a better way.

As she drifted off that night, she found herself thinking not of her suitors but of that surprising performance by Sir Victor. What word should it have been instead of “queen”? Someday, she promised herself, she would get a proper answer. He was a vexing man! She would track him down the next day and see if he’d share what he knew.