‘The king is a Christian in whatever way suits him. He uses the Church to his advantage.’
At that moment a trumpet flourish announced that the guests were to proceed into the building.
As we filed inside, Hroudland whispered, ‘Stick close to me. Otherwise you might finish up sitting next to some ancient bore. There’ll be plenty of those.’
The absence of a roof made the interior of the Council Hall feel even larger than it really was. The enormous brick walls with their double lines of windows towered around us, open to the sky, and I could see a flock of doves wheeling in the air high above us. Finally completed, the place would be able to hold at least three or four hundred people, but now only the area next to the main entrance was being utilized. Two long tables had been set up, facing one another with a large open space between them. A smaller table, raised on a low plinth, had been placed across the end of the open space. This table was covered with a white and silver cloth, and gleamed with a display of gold ewers, goblets and other costly vessels, among them a remarkable salver carved from solid crystal and rimmed with a broad gold band inlaid with enamels of every colour.
Hroudland steered me to the long table on our left. Here the dishes were of silver and gilt, and the drinking vessels were beakers and cups of blue-green glass, some of them cleverly shaped to resemble traditional drinking horns.
‘This table is for the likes of us, the companions of the court,’ the count said, pulling out a bench. We sat down next to one another as Gerard, Oton and the others took their places nearby, along with several other people I did not know.
Hroudland nodded towards the far table.
‘Over there, you’ll see the king’s councillors and advisors.’
I followed his glance. Alcuin was with a group of priests. A couple of places away from him sat a middle-aged man in a yellow silk tunic. He had a clever, foxy face and a shock of iron-grey hair. As I watched, he happened to look in my direction and I had the impression that he was taking note of my presence at the table alongside Hroudland.
Again the trumpet sounded, and I nearly fell to the floor as the bench beneath me tipped when everyone jumped to their feet. I clutched at Hroudland and hauled myself upright in time to see the king enter through a doorway which I guessed must lead to his private residence. He was dressed in the same costume as I had seen him previously wear, with the addition of a long embroidered cloak of dark purple held with a gold buckle. He wore no crown or symbol of rank, but his great height and confident stride were more than enough to establish his commanding presence. Crossing to the raised table, he faced the assembled company, lifted one hand briefly to acknowledge his guests, and sat down. He looked bored. We remained standing. After a short interval a group entered through the same door and took their places on either side of the king. They were all women with just one man among them. He was in his late teens and I guessed he was Pepin, the king’s heir presumptive. I had not expected him to be a hunchback. But my attention was drawn to the young woman who had been with Carolus when I was introduced. She was wearing the same heavy amber necklace, but this time her long blonde braids were coiled up on her head, and she wore a headband encrusted with small jewels. Beside her were three other young women, ranging in age from their teens to early twenties. There was no mistaking the strong family resemblance.
‘Who’s the girl with the amber necklace?’ I muttered to Hroudland as we resumed our places.
‘That’s Bertha. If she’s the girl who caught your fancy, you’ll have your hands full. That’s true, isn’t it, Oton?’
Oton, who was seated opposite us, rolled his eyes in mock horror.
‘She’d eat you alive, Patch.’
A relay of servants was passing along our table, serving food and drink. I sipped cautiously at what was poured into my cup. It was red wine, the best I had ever tasted.
‘We never drank anything like that at home,’ I commented approvingly.
‘You’ve got Anseis to thank for that,’ said Oton. ‘His family’s Burgundian estates are obliged to send fifty barrels a year to the king.’
I noticed Anseis scowl; he must have been thinking that the vintage was wasted on foreigners like myself.
Oton reached for a loaf of bread and broke off a chunk, then passed it to me.
‘Here, Patch, have some of this. It’s flavoured with caraway and poppy seeds. The trouble with banquets is that Carolus only likes boiled or roast meat, no fancy sauces.’
A large dish had been set down in the middle of the table, heaped with what appeared to be a heap of twisted, dark-brown sticks.
‘Can you pass me a couple of those,’ I asked Berenger, who was seated on my other side. I had recognized smoked eel and wondered if it was a relic of my trip with Arnulf and his ox wagon.
‘Can’t wait for the hunting season to begin,’ complained Berenger, regarding with distaste the boiled pork and dumplings that had been put on our plates. ‘Venison and wild boar on a spit is something the cooks can’t ruin.’ He called across to Gerard, ‘I’ve a riddle for you:
‘I am black on the outside, wrapped in a wrinkled skin,
Inside I contain a fiery marrow. .
I season delicacies and the banquets of kings,
But you will find in me no quality of any worth. .’
Gerard gave a rueful smile and said, ‘No need to go on. You’ve made your point.’
He produced a small pouch from his sleeve and carefully extracted three or four black seeds which he passed across. Berenger laid them on the table and smashed them to powder with the handle of his dagger. He saw me watching him.
‘Patch, you’re good at solving riddles. What’s the answer to mine?’
‘I have no idea,’ I said.
Berenger picked up a few of the broken grains on the tip of his knife and said, ‘Put these on your tongue.’
I did so. The fiery taste made me grab my wine cup. I took a deep gulp to wash out my burning mouth.
‘The answer is “pepper”,’ said Berenger, grinning.
As we ate, a group of musicians entered the hall and began to play. The noise of their fiddles, pipes and drums made conversation difficult so I covertly studied the guests at the councillors’ table. Several important-looking men wore chains of office. I supposed they were the high officers of state, the seneschal, the count of the palace, the high chamberlain, and the keeper of the royal stables. This last individual, Hroudland had told me, commanded the royal guard. Alcuin and his fellow priests sat in a group, forming a sombre block of brown and drab among the other splendidly dressed dignitaries, whose costumes were bright with rich reds and blues, their necks and fingers heavy with gold jewellery. I presumed they were the dukes and counts whom the king appointed to rule the provinces. Among them the foxy-faced man whom I had noticed earlier was in earnest conversation with his neighbour, but something told me that he was very aware that I was watching him.
‘Who’s that in the yellow tunic, the one with the shock of grey hair?’ I asked Hroudland when the musicians finally began to put away their instruments.
Hroudland glanced across the hall.
‘That viper is my stepfather, Ganelon,’ he said icily. ‘He’s a charlatan and opportunist.’
I would have liked to have found out the reason for his dislike but a hush fell on the assembly. A man carrying a stool in one hand and a small harp in the other had walked into the open space between the tables.
Berenger gave a low groan of dismay.
‘This will be worse than theology,’ he said.
The newcomer set the stool down, bowed to the king, and announced loudly, ‘With your permission, my Lord, today I tell of the great warrior Troilus, son of King Priam, and how he met his death at the hands of the noble Achilles.’
Beside me, Hroudland said in a low voice, ‘Another of my uncle’s foibles. At meal times he loves to hear the tales of ancient heroes.’