Hugh’s eyes traveled slowly from the great fireplace along the high stone walls, and came to a stop at one of the tapestries featuring a knight on a horse.
It looked familiar.
Of course it looks familiar, he thought irritably. I’ve probably seen dozens of such tapestries in my life.
But there was something about the way the horse’s feet were placed…
He was distracted by the sound of a feminine voice addressing him.
“You are the knight who won the horsemanship contest at the tournament, are you not, Sir Hugh?”
“Aye.” Hugh forced his attention to the girl standing in front of him. Her hair was deeply auburn and her eyes a clear, azure blue. She gave him a dazzling smile, showing perfect, pearly white teeth.
“It was wonderful to see how at one you were with your horse,” she said admiringly.
“Thank you, you are very kind,” Hugh replied. He remembered meeting her earlier around the fire, but he had absolutely no recollection of her name.
“I believe you are to sit beside me at supper,” she said, as if she were conferring a great favor upon him. Her long lashes fluttered. “I should be so interested to hear how you trained your marvelous horse.”
Might as well make a clean breast of it, Hugh thought.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I don’t remember your name.”
A flash of annoyance flickered across her lovely face. Then she gave a tinkling laugh. “It’s Cecily, my lord. Lady Cecily Martaine.”
“Lady Cecily,” Hugh said gravely.
Nigel was watching this byplay with a distinct gleam of amusement in his eyes.
“Is your father Robert Martaine of Linkford?” he asked the girl.
Reluctantly she removed her eyes from Hugh’s face. “Aye, Sir Nigel. I came to Chippenham last year to serve the lady Eleanor.”
“I see,” said Nigel.
People had begun to drift toward the tables and Cecily laid a proprietary hand on Hugh’s sleeve. “Come,” she said, “and I will show you where you are to sit.”
They were not seated at the high table with Guy, but instead were placed at one of the trestle tables near the front of the hall. Hugh was disappointed to see that the other knights at the table were all under the age of thirty.
Hugh looked around for Aubrey d’Abrille and saw him sitting on the other side of the room.
The horn announcing dinner blew. Servants with ewers, basins, and towels attended to the guests so they could first wash their hands. Due to the fact that people shared dishes and ate with their fingers, Norman etiquette decreed that hands and nails must be kept scrupulously clean at table. A well-bred person also wiped his spoon and knife after use, and wiped his mouth before drinking as well.
The lady Cecily flirted outrageously with Hugh for the entire meal. It annoyed him intensely, as he wanted to be able to look around the hall to determine which of the men present might be of an age to be useful to him, and instead he was forced to pay attention to this pest of a girl.
Hugh had been brought up by Adela to be courteous to women, and he was courteous to Lady Cecily. But in his heart, he wanted to strangle her.
The final course was served and at last supper was over. Guy announced that after the tables had been cleared there would be dancing.
“How lovely!” Lady Cecily exclaimed, clapping her hands and flashing her perfect teeth.
“Aye,” Hugh said glumly.
Nigel was talking to a middle-aged woman whom he seemed to know, and Hugh was forced to stand with Lady Cecily while the floor was cleared. She talked gaily the whole time. In fact, all the men and women were talking gaily. And loudly. It appeared to Hugh that quite a bit of wine had been drunk at supper.
He saw no sign of Aubrey d’Abrille. The knight had apparently left the hall.
Finally the last table was removed, and Lord Guy moved onto the floor holding the lady Eleanor by the hand. He moved lightly for such a heavy man.
Lady Cecily seized Hugh’s hand and pulled him out to join the rest of the company. They spread out, forming a large circle in the middle of the rush-strewn floor.
Once the circle had been completed, and the alternating men and women were holding each other by the hand, Lord Guy asked genially, “Who will have the courtesy to sing for us?”
The music for dancing was always provided by the human voice.
One of the younger knights intoned a song for the leading voice and after a moment the rest of the company joined in. The men bowed, the ladies curtseyed, and the circle began to move. The dancing had begun.
Hugh went through the motions, his hand clasping the warm hand of the Lady Cecily, his feet moving automatically to the steps that Adela had taught him so many years before.
He did not sing.
After the first dance had finished, he became aware that one of Guy’s knights was staring at him.
The man was no longer young. His hair was still brown and his belly was still flat, but his weather-beaten face gave away his forty and more years.
Hugh felt a surge of excitement. Perhaps this was the man he was looking for.
He deliberately made eye contact with the knight, who, instead of being embarrassed at being caught staring, looked directly back. Unlike Aubrey, however, there was no hostility in this man’s gaze.
“Why is Alan fitzRobert staring at you, Sir Hugh?” Cecily asked.
A muscle twitched along Hugh’s jaw. This girl was proving to be a definite nuisance.
“I don’t know,” he replied calmly.
“It’s probably because of your eyes. Did you notice that you have the same color eyes as Lord Guy?”
“I noticed,” Hugh said.
Her azure gaze was blatantly curious. “Why is that, do you think?”
“I have no idea.”
She pouted.
Hugh wanted to go and talk to Alan, but Cecily was sticking to him like a leech.
“Perhaps I have met this Alan before and I don’t recall him,” he said. “If you will excuse me, Lady Cecily, I will go and speak to him.”
“Oh, I’ll come with you,” she said gaily.
Hugh had had enough. With a mental apology to Adela, he said, “Thank you, but I prefer to go alone.”
Color flushed into her ivory skin. He noted with perfect objectivity that she was a very pretty girl.
“You are discourteous, sir,” she said stiffly.
“I beg your pardon,” Hugh said.
He bowed and turned away, leaving her standing by herself against the wall.
When he saw Hugh crossing the floor in his direction, the knight named Alan jerked his head slightly in the direction of the door, then turned and left the hall.
Hugh followed.
The knight was waiting for him on the landing outside. “Come downstairs to the guardroom with me,” he commanded.
“All right.”
The landing was lit by a flambeau stuck into an iron holder on the wall. Alan lit a torch from the flambeau, held it aloft, and led the way down the stairs to the floor below, where the guardroom was located.
The vast room was deserted, as all of the knights were upstairs at the dancing. The flickering light from the torch allowed Hugh to see the array of swords and shields that hung upon the bare stone walls. Several trestle tables containing pieces of harness and armor were scattered about the floor. A wooden bench upon which straw mattresses and blankets had been set ran around the entire room. Trunks containing the clothes and belongings of each knight were stored under the bench.
Chippenham was large enough to have a separate room for the knights to sleep in.
Alan held his torch so that its light fell directly on Hugh’s face.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
Hugh stood lance straight under that burning gaze. “I am Hugh de Leon, the son of Roger and Isabel,” he replied steadily.