But what had that to do with her? “And how did he break his ankle?”
Otto sighed. “Just remember that I didn’t bring this up, all right? He slipped while climbing up to a window.”
No doubt it had been a lady’s window and that was why Vladislav had mentioned the matter in front of her. Very funny.
Wulf was at the head of the adjoining table, on the other side of the fireplace, not ten feet away from Ottokar. The brothers could speak to each other quite easily if they wished, but Wulf never once glanced that way, because he would have to acknowledge Madlenka also. The fact that Ottokar likewise did not address him showed that he understood the lovers’ problem.
Indeed, he never even mentioned Wulf to Madlenka except to say that their mother had died bearing him and their father had never remarried. So Wulf, Anton, and even Marek must have been reared by servants. Ottokar was obviously head of the family in more than name. The others clearly deferred to him, so much so that she suspected even Anton might still heed his orders, at least until Anton had grown into his new duties as a feudal landowner. She liked Ottokar.
The first course was removed and the second brought in-swan and roast piglets, beans and a spicy sauce, sweetmeats and fall fruits. The baron and Sir Vladislav went to work again, but she could not face another mouthful. Anton nibbled. The poor would do well out of today’s leftovers.
The wine still flowed. The hall became very noisy, with everyone shouting over the musicians who strolled around. Two boys performed acrobatics; jugglers juggled. As each act ended, Anton dispatched gifts to the performers.
Then the entertainers departed and the servants withdrew to the far end of the hall. Madlenka braced herself for the highlight of the feast.
“My lord?” she murmured.
Anton turned and smiled. “My wife?”
“Have you met Jurgen?”
“Remind me.”
“Your fool. He’s a dwarf, about half your height. He can be very funny, but he’ll certainly be making comments about height and, um, related matters.”
His smiled broadened. “Are you worried that I can’t take jokes, or that I have something to be ashamed of? You know you need not worry about either.”
“That’s reassuring,” she said, although she had serious doubts about the way Anton took jokes. “I just wanted to warn you. The bugler will give him a fanfare and he’ll enter in a cart pulled by two old hounds. He may be dressed as a Moor or Julius Caesar or the Emperor Barbarossa. You never know what-”
Her voice was drowned out by the shriek of a trumpet from outside the door. The fanfare, played extremely badly, ended in a very vulgar noise that died away into merciful silence. Thus all eyes were on the doorway as Havel Vranov limped into the hall.
CHAPTER 30
For a moment Madlenka’s mind refused to accept what her eyes were seeing-the hooked nose, the burly physique, the bushy dark brows-but there was no doubt that he was the count of Pelrelm. He was not alone, of course. Right on his heels came young Leonas, excitedly clutching something to his chest. Then followed the sinister Father Vilhelmas in his bushy beard and oddly wrong priest’s robes, and, lastly, Marijus, the soldier son whom she would have made keeper of Castle Gallant four days ago, had Anton not appeared so magically in the cathedral.
Surprisingly, the first person to react was Brother Marek. Even before all the visitors were inside the hall, he leapt to his feet, yelling, “No! No! Stop them!” He dodged between the ends of the side table and the high table and ran forward, waving his arms and shouting at the newcomers.
The next was Anton, who may have started at the same time, but had a lot more up to leap. He was even louder, “Stay where you are!” And then, “Constable, knights! Block them!”
The worthy knights of the county were no-nonsense country lads who welcomed any chance for a rumble. As if they had drilled for it, they overthrew their table, trestles and all, spilling an avalanche of food, drink, and dishes across the floor, and went charging forward over the debris to form a human wall between the visitors and their liege. No one came armed to a feast, of course, but the Pelrelmians were not armed either. Having no choice in the matter, they stopped.
In a comically delayed reaction, all the women then screamed, including the dowager countess. The only exception was Madlenka, who was wondering where Wulf was. He had been sitting beside the constable just moments ago, but now he was nowhere in sight. The way these Magnuses came and went was eerie to the point of bloodcurdling.
Brother Marek spun around and went back to his place, grinning sheepishly at Anton as if he had just made a complete fool of himself. Madlenka did not know what had provoked his outburst, but she did not think that Marek was foolish at all. Why had the diminutive friar been included in this family invasion of Castle Gallant? Just to enjoy a family reunion? Or for the same reason the squire had been included? Could there be two Speakers among five Magnus brothers? The idea seemed absurd and cruel, but she could not put it out of her mind.
“How dare you enter this house without an invitation?” Anton boomed. High on the dais, in red robes and coronet, arms folded, he dominated the hall so completely that no one else dared to make a sound. “I ordered you out of here four days ago, Pelrelm. Who let you back in?”
Vranov smiled, unabashed. “I’m so sorry we can’t stay longer.”
“I asked how you got in!”
“We just dropped by to offer you our best wishes on your latest concubinage, lad. May it be fruitful! And also, of course, on your amazingly fast recovery from the wound that so nearly killed you on Tuesday.”
“Your wishes are as unwelcome as you are,” Anton retorted. “That heretic priest beside you was leading a troop of Wendish invaders and should be beheaded for treason if he is a Jorgarian, or as an enemy combatant if he is not.”
Vranov looked at the priest in mock surprise. “It would seem he does not want your prayers either, Father.”
Vilhelmas mumbled a reply, but he seemed to be scanning the hall for somebody or something. With eyes askew, he ought to be able to see in two directions at once, unless one eye was good only for casting evil spells on people.
“However,” Vranov continued, “and ignoring your rudeness, we have brought a gift for your lady, a bolt of fine silk from distant Cathay. Marijus?”
The warrior raised his hands to show that he was holding a package that looked the right size to be fabric. Madlenka could almost drool at the thought of such a gift.
“We want none of your trash,” Anton said, speaking strictly for himself. “Constable, escort-”
“I brought the lady a puppy!” Leonas squealed in his childish treble. “I wanna give the puppy to the lady!”
“And no puppies!”
But the boy marched forward and the knights let him through instead of just straightarming him back. Anton drew breath for another bellow.
Madlenka gripped his arm. “Wait! Let him give me the puppy.” He turned to her in anger, but she stood up. “Let me deal with it, I beg you.”
“Woman!” he whispered. “You do not question my authority!”
“It’s a trap to make you look foolish. I’ve seen Vranov do this before. Trust me.”
For a moment, she thought he would yell at her to stay out of men’s business, but then he relented. “All right, the puppy.” He spoke between clenched teeth.
By then the simpleton had reached the dais and was beaming at her.
She held out her hands. “That’s a lovely puppy, Leonas.”
She was on the dais, and the table was between them, but he was tall enough and rangy enough to thrust the smelly, furry morsel right into her waiting hands. It was very young, eyes barely open, and about the same ginger-gold color as he was. It stank.