Claudia’s words echoed softly in Jelena’s mind. With shaking hands she pulled at the borrowed gown, then checked one last time to make sure that her ears were hidden. Drawing in a lungful of the scent-charged air, she stepped into the doorway.
Chapter 4
At first glance, the scene within the great hall seemed not much different from that of the yard. Jelena saw trestle tables and benches full of eating, drinking people; however, they were fewer in number and much more richly dressed than those outside. Torches burning in sconces affixed to the support posts illuminated the high-ceilinged chamber, and dozens of beeswax tapers in candelabra lit each table. The aroma of the burning candles added a sweet note to the mingled smells of roasted meat, beer, wine, and wood smoke that filled the air. Heraldic banners hung suspended from the heavy ceiling beams, and a series of faded tapestries depicting bucolic hunting scenes decorated the walls.
At the far end of the hall, a proper table and chairs stood upon a raised platform. At the high table sat her uncle. Beside him on his right sat another man whom Jelena had never seen before. She assumed that he must be someone very important to her uncle. Next to this special guest sat Thessalina, looking like she’d just smelled something extremely distasteful. Magnes was seated to his father’s left, and next to him sat a young girl with pale blonde hair, dressed in dusky rose.
The man Magnes had identified up on the battlements earlier that day as Duke Sebastianus Lucien occupied a chair one place beyond the blonde girl. There were several other men and women seated at Duke Teodorus’s table, all of whom had to be persons of high rank to merit such an honor.
Feeling a little like a rabbit walking into a den of foxes, Jelena stepped through the door, gathered up her skirts, and began walking down the center aisle towards the high table. The rushes strewn over the flagstones beneath her borrowed slippers made a crunching noise as she walked. At first, no one seemed to notice, but as she drew closer, the buzz of conversation trailed off into a charged silence. Her uncle sat coolly, regarding her over the edge of his wine goblet. Thessalina stared, expressionless. Jelena faltered for a moment, then stopped, poised on the knife-edge of panic.
Magnes must have sensed her fear; his instinct to protect her galvanized him into action. “Cousin! You’re here at last. Come and join us,” he said. His words were spoken at normal volume, yet they seemed to ring out like a trumpet call in the tense stillness of the hall, bolstering Jelena’s failing courage.
“ Uncle,” she murmured, dropping into a deep curtsy.
She heard a sharp little giggle as she rose and saw the blonde girl raise a pale hand to her mouth, her blue eyes fastened on Jelena and twinkling with amusement. Magnes glanced at her and frowned.
“ Yes, yes,” Duke Teodorus growled, beckoning to her with a curt wave of his hand. “Come on up here and sit down, so we can get back to the food. Magnes, help her.”
Magnes was by her side almost before the duke had finished speaking. He placed her hand in the fold of his elbow and led her up onto the dais and to the empty chair next to Duke Sebastianus. He made a great show of pulling it out for her, as if by demonstrating his commitment to her, he could turn the tide of prejudice.
The guests turned their attentions back to their food and conversation. A small musical ensemble, which had fallen silent at Jelena’s entrance, once again took up their instruments, and soon the room filled with the sounds of music and feasting.
Jelena was acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes that watched her, some surreptitiously, others openly. She quickly scanned the faces of the crowd, and saw expressions ranging from mild curiosity to frank disgust. There could be no hiding who or what she was, not in this place. She had never in her life felt so naked, so utterly and completely exposed.
How am I ever going to get through this?
“ Have some wine, my lady.”
Jelena started a little in her seat. She had never before been addressed with any sort of honorific, and it shocked her. Every nerve in her body was stretched taut and jangling, as if at any moment, she would fly apart into a thousand bloody pieces. She turned to look at the man seated to her right.
Duke Sebastianus of Veii was not a handsome man, but neither was he ugly. Rather, he had the kind of face that was like a mask-calm on the surface, but hiding something underneath. He held a ewer in his hand, poised to pour.
Jelena could only nod in mute consent. The duke smoothly filled her goblet to the brim then topped off his own. He lifted the cup to his lips and regarded her with enigmatic eyes.
“ My lord, this is my cousin, Jelena,” Magnes said, leaning forward to look past the girl seated next to him, who seemed not to notice that Magnes was intentionally ignoring her. Her attention was focused on Jelena, vapid face alight with malicious glee.
“ Yes, I know,” the duke replied. Something in his tone made Jelena shiver.
“ What would you like to eat?” Magnes asked.
“ Maybe she’d like a cup of blood, or some raw meat. She won’t bite, will she?” the blonde girl purred, fluttering her eyelashes coquettishly.
“ Be quiet,” Magnes retorted, his voice low and tight with anger. The girl sank back into her chair, her full pink lips set in a pout.
Jelena’s stomach roiled with suppressed rage and fear.
“ Your uncle sets a very fine table,” Duke Sebastianus said. “It all looks quite delicious.” He once again turned his peculiarly intense gaze upon Jelena.
There were a great variety of dishes to choose from, all of them familiar to Jelena from her years of working in the kitchen. She saw several of her favorites-rabbit and fruit pie, cold fish in aspic, game stew with turnips and carrots. It all might as well be rocks and wood, for she felt certain that if she tried to eat anything, her stomach would immediately rebel.
Praying that no one would see her hand trembling, Jelena reached for her wine goblet and brought the brimming cup slowly to her lips. She took several deep swallows and immediately regretted it. The dry, woodsy vintage, unhindered by any food that could absorb and slow its intoxicating effects, blew straight into her head. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. From somewhere further down the table, she heard the porcine snort of a man’s laughter.
“ Ah, let me take that from you, my lady, before you spill it.” The pleasant baritone of Duke Sebastianus’s voice so close to her ear startled Jelena. Before she realized it, he had the cup and her hand firmly in his grasp and was gazing intently into her face, as if to memorize every detail of its topography. His dark eyes seized upon hers and held them, relentlessly, burning straight through into her innermost core. She felt trapped like a mouse under a cat’s paw.
The duke gently pried Jelena’s fingers from around the goblet and set it back on the table. “You had better eat something, or I fear the wine will go to your head,” he said. “What may I serve you?”
“ Some of the cold fish, and a little of the rabbit pie, Your Grace,” Jelena replied, finding her voice at last. She watched silently as the duke served her plate with his own hand, acutely aware that many others were watching as well. She thanked him and began eating, taking the smallest of bites, afraid that, if she tried eating any more, she would choke.
“ Your uncle described you to me in great detail, Jelena. I must say, though, that his description did not do you justice.”
Jelena kept her eyes lowered, studiously avoiding the duke’s gaze. “I was not aware that my uncle cared enough about me to describe me to anyone, let alone to a person of your high station, my lord,” she replied softly.
“ Your uncle has sent me several correspondences concerning you, Jelena. It has been almost a year since my wife died. I’ve lived the monastic life for long enough and now it’s time to move forward.”