Confined by the dimensions of the keep, the great hall of Pengraic was somewhat smaller than the one at Rosseley, but it was still impressive. It had two fireplaces: one at the southern end of the hall, one in the eastern wall, and both were chimneyed to keep the air clear. At the northern end of the hall stood the dais holding the lord’s table; there were several braziers set behind the table to keep those at the high table warm.
The floor was of stone, its surface smooth and neatly joined. Hangings covered the northern, eastern and western walls, the subject matter reminding me again of the paintings in the chapel. Heraldic pennants and lamps hung from the panelled ceiling and torches lined the spaces between the hangings.
As at Rosseley, two long tables ran down from the high table. Most of the diners were already here, enough to fill both tables, but yet sparse enough in number that there was ample space between each diner. The plague’s shadow still hung over life at Pengraic.
Despite the shadow, there was a minstrel playing, and servants to carry ewers of wine and platters of food.
The music ceased and all stood as we entered.
I was reminded starkly of the feast at Rosseley when Edmond had attended. Then I’d been a naïve girl from the country, watching with wide eyes as the king and nobles processed up the hall.
I was little changed from that person, although life and death had marked me in the meantime. Yet now I was among the great nobles who strode up the centre of the hall, if not yet one of them, and eyes followed me, watchful, wondering, calculating.
It was unsettling. It would have been unsettling enough with Pengraic, but I was not walking with Pengraic.
As senior woman present (or close enough to my marriage to be so thought) I accompanied Prince Henry, the senior nobleman. We led the procession into the hall, slowly walking up the centre of the hall to the high table. To either side people bowed, their heads low as we passed.
I was very tense. Not so much because I had at my side a prince, but because of what that prince had revealed of himself. No wonder Pengraic did not like him.
I would need to watch my tongue tonight, and I hoped that the prince would be a few places from me.
It was not to be. As host, Pengraic sat at the centre of the table facing into the hall, myself on his right and Prince Henry on my right, so that I was positioned between the two men. Summersete sat on Pengraic’s left, d’Avranches beyond him and Owain (his place at the table surprised me) sat on Prince Henry’s right.
Servants hastened to offer us bowls of water to wash our hands and then towels to dry them. The wine servitors then filled our cups, and Henry led the hall in a toast to Pengraic’s and my betrothal. He managed it courteously enough, and once the cheers and good wishes and the drinkhails! had died down, servants set fine plate and platters of food before us.
Pengraic filled my plate for me, taking the choicest of morsels to set before me and, as Saint-Valery had so many months previously, took care to keep the lip of my wine cup clean by wiping it with his napkin every so often. He offered me salt from the ornate silver salt cellar, and I nodded my thanks as he tipped it from his knife to my plate.
Every time a new course was served, the servants waiting behind us leaned in to clean the table, straighten the table cloths as much as they could, and gave us fresh napkins and plates or trenchers, whatever the course demanded.
It was all very formal, and very courteous, and I made sure to only sip at my wine and nibble at the food, keeping my responses to either Pengraic or Henry as brief as possible. Every so often I looked to Evelyn for reassurance. She sat a little way down the table on my right, and each time she caught my glance her way she smiled and gave me a small nod.
I slowly relaxed.
For a time the conversation was convivial and courteous. Most of the men concentrated on their eating, only asking polite queries of others as they ate and drank. The minstrel strolled about the centre of the hall, singing songs of nobility and adventure and, each time he came nearer me, foolish romantic ballads that had me blushing — more from the attention than the words.
Time passed. I relaxed more and, even though I had but sipped at the wine, I’d had enough to start to think that I may have been mistaken in forming a poor initial opinion of Henry.
Eventually the men sat back, their appetites sated. Pengraic gestured for the man serving the wine to step forth and refill all the cups.
‘My lord prince,’ I said to Henry, who was leaning back slightly in his chair and looking sleepy with wine, ‘what brings you to Pengraic? On my oath, I did not expect to meet with one of Edmond’s sons when I stepped into the solar this afternoon!’
Henry gave a little shrug of his shoulders. ‘Summersete and I were riding on my father’s business to the Bishop of Hereford, when, in Monemude, we fell to thinking we must make sure that Pengraic was still well. We had heard the plague was here and that Lady Adelie had died, and we were concerned.’
‘Your concern, as always, does me great honour,’ Pengraic said in a voice that indicated Henry’s concern did everything but.
‘It was truly a terrible time, my lord,’ I said to Henry. ‘The death …’
‘All of your children dead, I hear,’ Henry said, speaking over me to the earl. ‘Even those not at Pengraic. No wonder you are so anxious to get yourself a new heir. Losing … what was it … five sons if we count the one dead with Adelie? Such bad luck.’
The hairs were rising on the back of my neck. There was an under-conversation going on here. I could sense it, but could not understand what it might be.
‘From five heirs to none in the space of a few weeks,’ Summersete added from the other side of Pengraic. ‘The lordship of Pengraic itself hangs by the thread of a single heartbeat.’
Suddenly I realised the true purpose of this conversation, and of Henry and Summersete’s visit. Pengraic was a very wealthy man, controlling vast estates, here in the Marches as well as elsewhere in England. It was not just that he was a powerful nobleman, but a powerful Marcher Lord, almost independent of the king, controlling his own lands as if he were their king — Edmond had little power over Pengraic’s lands and wealth. It was possible, then, that Henry and Summersete had detoured to Pengraic to see what Pengraic was doing.
Or, more probably, to seize the castle and perhaps the Marcher Lordship if Pengraic had perished in the plague, too.
So much power to be seized had Pengraic been dead. The lordship could have been anyone’s. Henry’s most like, if it had reverted to the Crown.
By God, they, and perhaps even Edmond, must be whetting their lips with anticipation knowing all of Pengraic’s heirs were dead!
What disappointment Henry and Summersete must have felt, then, to see Pengraic striding about so obviously well.
I wondered what they thought of this marriage. The matter of who I was, a low-ranked woman who formerly had been grateful for her modest place in the household, was of little concern. What must be of concern was that Pengraic appeared to be set on the business of acquiring a new heir as soon as possible.
Henry had been watching my face. ‘Ah, mistress, you have just realised how important your womb is. By Jesu, all you are, truly, is a womb with limbs and a pretty face attached. No wonder the gift of the girdle, given it frames your womb perfectly. Its filling is all Pengraic cares for. When did you say the marriage was to be, Pengraic?’
It was a hateful little speech and I was mortified by it, not in the least because I suspected it held more than a grain of truth. Wasn’t that what Pengraic himself had said? You owe me a family, and you shall deliver me a new one.
‘Edmond wants you back at court, Pengraic,’ Summersete said. ‘You left Elesberie without his permission in order to return here. Now might be politic to regain your king’s favour. Marriage and bedding can wait.’
Everything about the entire night had changed. By now I was staring down at my lap (and trying not to notice that the way the girdle was tied did, as Henry had said, frame my womb perfectly). The noise of music and conversation and dogs barking from the body of the hall was strangely muted, as if it were miles away. There was only Prince Henry, Summersete, Pengraic and myself, enclosed in a sphere of hostility.