She looked up at him in surprise that quickly turned to gratitude. “Why, those known to me are the knights and neighbors of Count d’Arrete, sir, save for their daughter Jeanette and that young gallant who sits at the end of the high table and is Camano, their son.”
“You mean the one who’s been giving me nasty looks all evening? What’s the matter-doesn’t he like strangers?”
That brought a smile of amusement “Nay, sir, unless they be female. But I think he is more affronted by Squire Pascal, who sits by you, than by yourself.”
The young man looked up with a guilty start. “Do you speak to me, damsel?”
“No, sir, I speak of you.” Finally, a flash of irritation showed in the girl’s face, but was again quickly masked. “I was identifying you for your neighbor there; you do not seem to have introduced yourself to he who sits by you.”
“True enough-but men, neither has he introduced himself to me.” The young man turned to Matt. “I am Pascal de la Tour, sir-not yet a squire, but only a squire’s son-and this young lady is my neighbor, the Demoiselle Charlotte Espere. Our fathers would have us be betrothed, but have not asked our opinions in the matter.”
“Pascal!” Charlotte hissed, blushing furiously as she glanced to either side at her neighbors, who were, fortunately, still earnestly engaged in discussions that kept them turned away from her. “Be honest, Charlotte,” Pascal sighed. “You have no great liking for me, though you do seek to be a dutiful daughter and discover love where it is not.”
Tears filled poor Charlotte’s eyes. “It is cruel of you to speak so!”
“Is it not strange?” Pascal gave Matt a hard smile. “I speak truth, as the Bible says we should-and folk censure me for it!”
“The truth can be hurtful,” Matt countered, “and that the Bible does not enjoin-at least, not in the New Testament.”
Pascal’s eye kindled with interest-or was it delight in a challenge? “Must we choose between two sins, then? Lying, or cruelty?”
“Not unless you’re asked for your opinion,” Matt answered. Pascal abruptly lost interest. “You have no more concern for truth than anyone else, I see.” He turned away, letting his gaze roam over the room. Matt contained his indignation at the slight and turned to lean across the table, speaking as low as he could and still be heard by the teenager across from him. “I think you should be grateful for his churlishness, demoiselle. At least, this way, you’re not apt to wind up in a loveless marriage-and your father can’t really blame you.”
“He will find a way.” But Charlotte looked surprised, as if she hadn’t really thought of the consequences. “I thought that if two married, love would grow.”
“Not that I’ve ever seen-and I can think of a lot better reasons for marriage than joining two estates that happen to border each other.” Matt glanced up at the high table, looking for a change of subject. “Is that the count’s cousin, then?”
Charlotte seemed as glad for the diversion as he. “Yes, that is the Conte Puvecci, with his wife, and his son and daughter.”
Matt smiled without mirth. “I’ll wager there sits another young lady whose parents are going to try to marry her off to strengthen the family.”
“To Camano, you mean?” Charlotte looked startled. “I had not thought… but now that you speak of it, perhaps…”
“I feel sorry for her.”
“You say that, and you do not even know Camano?” The demoiselle turned back to him with a smile. “Of course, I do not, either-but what I have heard of him is enough for me to pity her, too.” Her eyes went wide and round. “But I speak of myself, do I not?‘
Matt gusted breath in relief. “Yes, except that you don’t have to worry about your current trap. Churlish or not, Pascal seems to be getting you out of that.”
“So he does!” Charlotte turned with a smile. “Thank you, Pascal!”
Pascal’s head snapped around, staring in surprise. “For what, Charlotte?”
“For being yourself.” Charlotte dropped her napkin and stood. “Come, the fiddlers have struck up a reel, and other folk have gone out to dance! Let us join them!”
Pascal hesitated, looking wary. “It’s a peace offering.” Matt gave him an elbow in the ribs. “Get out there and dance with her, you clod!”
Pascal turned on him, fire in his eye. “She’s been your friend all through childhood, hasn’t she?” Matt snapped. That took the heat out of Pascal’s anger. “Aye… if a girl can be a friend to a boy.”
“You know she was, as much as she could be.” Matt didn’t know anything of the kind, but he liked Charlotte already and didn’t see how Pascal could not have liked the girl-until he’d felt threatened. “Get out there and make your peace with her-and don’t be surprised if you find a way to make a definite end to the whole problem.”
Pascal turned wary again. “How can I? Our fathers-”
“They aren’t apt to force you if you’re both really dead set against it-and the way you’ve been behaving, a saint would be dead set against you.”
Pascal’s head reared back, affronted. “I thought you coveted truth,” Matt jibed. “Go make your peace. In this world, we need all the friends we can get-and in the next one, too.”
“There’s some truth to that.” Pascal put down his napkin and rose. “One dance, then.”
“That should be all it takes.”
Matt watched them go, heaving a sigh. If only the problem of mass discontent could be solved so easily! Nearby, he heard some of the young gentry muttering to one another. “They talk as if their lives are constant festival! Oh, so they serve a few hours’ duty each day-what matter?”
“Not even that, for the ladies,” a young woman said. “And they are among their own kind!” another youth exclaimed. “They are among folk of their own age and class, with no parents to order them about, living all together with no troubling from the king!”
“Wherefor is he so generous?‘ another girl wondered, but her voice was buried in the marveling. ”A constant round of dress-makers and gatherings!“
“A constant round of flirting with ladies and wenching with wantons!”