Richard’s thin, pale face was set into an expression of utter irritation, and his eyes (his sly eyes, Thomas thought) were sliding this way and that through the hall, as if he were trying to size up support for whatever intrigue his secretive mind considered.
Just down from Richard was his mother, the Black Prince’s beloved wife, Joan of Kent, or the Fair Maid of Kent as she’d been known in her youth, a massively overweight woman with hair dyed a bright straw color. She sat for the most part eating, drinking, and dabbing delicately with a square of linen at the beads of perspiration that appeared in the folds of her cheeks and neck, not speaking to any about her save, occasionally, her son.
Lancaster, on Edward’s left, had turned to Katherine, and was serving her the juiciest pieces of meat from his own platter.
Whether or not they were soon to be married, it was an indication of Lancaster’s extraordinary power that he could bring his long-time mistress to sit at his side at High Table.
Gloucester, further down the table—the Lord Mayor of London on one side and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury, on the other—appeared profoundly ill at ease.
The Plantagenet family, as represented at High Table by its most senior members, looked as if it were about to implode through the force of its own disharmony.
Thomas’ eyes moved from the High Table to the top of his own table.
There, Hal Bolingbroke, ignoring the attentions of the Earl’s daughter, was watching the High Table as carefully as Thomas had just been.
How many demons, and how many men?
And was there a demon prince among them?
“Mawmenny!” Chaucer cried as a servant set down a dish of heavily spiced and sugared ground meats, fruit and almonds, and Thomas jerked slightly, his reverie broken.
THE BLACK Prince was the only one on horseback. The other two men walked, as wrapped as they could be in cloaks and blankets and still be able to move their legs, on the sheltered side of the horses, making as much use as they could of the beasts’
powerful bodies to block out the wind.
The camp had long disappeared behind them, and Raby had no idea how far they’d come, or if they were even heading west toward the coast.
All he could do was take one step, then concentrate on lifting the next foot forward.
Suddenly the horses stopped, and one of them snorted.
“Tyler,” Raby croaked. “Can you see more than a hand’s length before you?”
There was a lengthy silence before Tyler replied, and Raby thought his face might have frozen, rendering speech impossible.
“Aye,” Tyler finally said. “But I wish I could not see what I can.”
Raby raised a hand—appalled at the effort it took—and rubbed his eyes, trying to clear them of the ice that had collected there.
He blinked, blinked again, then peered forward.
He cursed, and stumbled a little as he tried to see to the sides and behind him as well.
Demons had moved in so close they had formed an impenetrable ring about the men and horses, and now they were shuffling forward, apparently unaffected by the storm, their snouts lifted toward the still form of the Black Prince.
THE BANQUET progressed with course after course. From each platter diners took only a few slivers of meat, for if they gorged themselves on the first courses, they would have had no room left for the thirty-odd more to come.
Mummers moved into the center spaces between the tables, dancing and performing short plays. All of them hid their faces behind strange animal masks, and their hands covered with gloves fashioned to resemble the claws of wild beasts.
Their robes were made of colorful materials that fluttered and flowed in the drafts caused by the many entrances to the hall and fires that roared throughout its length.
As the night lengthened, the never-ending supply of Gascony wine took hold, and some of the revellers took to the floor with the mummers, forming carol rings, and singing songs of cheer and ribaldry. One group of dancers, mummers cavorting within the center of their circle, took up a popular Christmastide ballad at the top of their voices.
Man, be glad in hall and bower,
This time was born our savior.
In this time a child was born,
To save those souls that went forlorn,
For he wore garland of thorn,
All it was for our honor.
Many at the tables close by laughed, clapping their hands, and joining in, for this was a much-loved song.
Jesu, for your courtesy,
Ye be our help and our succor.
On Whitsunday you down do send,
Wit and wisdom us to a-mend;
Jesu, bring us to that end,
With-out delay, our savior!
There was general applause as the ballad ended, and the leader of the carol circle jumped up and down several times and shouted: “Bring us in good ale!”
There were screams of delight, and even Edward III banged his fist on the table.
“Bring us in good ale!” he roared. “Bring us in good ale!”
Bring us in good ale, and bring us in good ale;
For our Blessed Lady’s sake, bring us in good ale.
Bring us in no brown bread, for that is made of bran,
Nor bring us in no white bread, for therein is no gain.
But bring us in good ale.
Bring us in no beef, for there is many bones,
But bring us in good ale, for that goes down at once;
And bring us in good ale.
Bring us in no bacon, for that is passing fat,
But bring us in good ale, and give us enough of that;
And bring us in good ale.
Bring us in no mutton, for that is often lean,
Nor bring us in no tripes, for that be seldom clean,
But bring us in good ale.
Now many hundreds in the hall were singing, and the sound of the ballad soared into the rafters.
Bring us in no eggs, for there are many shells,
But bring us in good ale and give us nothing else,
And bring us in good ale.
Bring us in no butter, for therm are many hairs;
Nor bring us in no pig’s flesh for that will make us boars; But bring us in good ale.
Bring us in no puddings, for therein is all God’s good;
Nor bring us in no venison, for that is not for our blood; But bring us in good ale.
Bring us in no capons’ flesh, for that is often dear;
Nor bring us in no duck’s flesh, for they slobber in the mere; But bring us in good ale.
Edward III leaped to his feet—to the evident consternation of Lancaster—and capered about, as if dancing. Just as his son reached out a hand, the king darted behind his chair, and half ran, half stumbled toward the singers and dancers.
“THE PRINCE!” Raby screamed, and he and Tyler stumbled to where the prince sat still, huddled over his horse.
Raby fumbled with the knots tying the man to his saddle. “Tyler, take him, I’ll hold back the demons.”
“My lord, there are too many!”
Raby risked a glance. The demons were closer in now, circling, dancing to and fro with delight.
“You must!” he said. “For if you don’t then we are all dead for certain.”
The last knot slipped free, and as it did, the prince lurched to the side, fortunately in Raby’s direction.
The baron grunted under the weight, and would have fallen himself had not Tyler
helped.
Raby hefted the prince up, intending to throw him over Tyler’s shoulder, but just as he did the prince moaned, shuddered, and rolled away. He half fell, half jumped to the ground, but somehow managed to maintain his feet.
The prince looked up. His face was stark white, his eyes shining a stunning blue.
“Raby,” he said, hoarsely.
“My lord, we must get you out of here!”
In answer, the Black Prince threw off most of his blankets, and stumbled against Raby.
When he stepped back, he had Raby’s sword in his hand, and then, before either Raby or Tyler could act, he lurched out to greet the demons. Raby started after him but Tyler, surprisingly strong, held him still.
“We’re all dead if we try to pull him back,” he said.
EDWARD III had picked up the hem of his trailing robe and, dribbling and giggling, was trying to shuffle a dance. The carollers and the masked mummers had surrounded him, forming concentric circles of dancers, cheering him on. “More song,” Edward cried. “More song!”
Lancaster, swearing under his breath, moved down from the dais, Gloucester at his side.
Richard, sitting slouched in his chair with hooded eyes, was watching his grandfather, a finger on his right hand slowly moving back and forth with the beat of the music, as if he were conducting the maddened dance before him.