Winter Song (10 page)

Alys looked at her image with mingled amusement and
satisfaction. The cloth-of-gold underdress matched almost exactly her loose
hair, which was now, strange as it seemed to her, flowing freely, unconfined
except for the diamond and sapphire garland that had been part of Raymond’s
betrothal gift. Only on a maiden’s wedding day was her hair displayed—and a
fine display it was, hanging in deep waves almost to her thighs and curling at
the ends. Where a few shorter strands fell forward over her shoulders, they
mingled with the gold thread arabesques embroidered into the rich blue velvet
of the overdress.

Blue, the color of purity, Virgin Mary’s color, had been
chosen for this last day on which Alys would be a maid, but also because the
color matched Alys’s eyes. The wide armholes of the outer gown displayed the
long, tight-buttoned sleeves of the cloth-of-gold underdress. Alys frowned. The
sapphires and diamonds of Raymond’s bracelets could be seen, but the handsome
gold settings were not at their best on cloth-of-gold. Ah well, she thought,
the work showed excellently where the necklet crossed the blue gown.

Beneath the hem were bright, red-dyed leather shoes, all
gold-embroidered and set with gems to match the gold girdle that hung low on
Alys’s hips, both Sancia’s gift, and Elizabeth was bringing the queen’s
present, a magnificent cloak, scarlet wool of the finest weave, lined with soft
gray fur from hood to hem.

“He will be ravished,” Queen Eleanor said in Alys’s ear. “You
need not study to see if you are perfect.”

“Oh, thank you, madame,” Alys murmured, “but Raymond must be
accustomed to finer dress, I think. And I had no other jewels than these he
gave me, but… I will not shame him, will I? Am I fine enough?”

“Quite fine enough, nor yet too fine,” the queen assured
her, laughing. “However, it was not of your clothes I spoke, you silly child.
Do you not know yourself beautiful?”

Alys frowned. “I am well enough. Men like to look upon me,
yes, I know it. But if Raymond takes me for that, he is the greatest fool in
the world.”

“You are most eager to be a wife,” Eleanor said softly,
remembering how frightened she had been, less than fourteen and sent to marry a
man fifteen years older whom she had never seen. She had been trained for it,
of course, and had expected it. She had wanted to be a queen like her sister Margaret,
who had married Louis of France. Nonetheless, she had been afraid, not eagerly
happy. Most girls were afraid, for their lives lay in their husbands’ hands.

“Yes,” Alys replied seriously. “I love Raymond, and it is sure
he loves me, for I had nothing he could desire before the king’s and Uncle
Richard’s generosity increased my dower. Why should I not be eager, since the
keeping of my husband’s love will be in my hands, and it is my first purpose in
life to be a good wife?”

“And on those most auspicious words, it is time,” Elizabeth said.

Alys turned from the burnished metal mirror at once and
stepped out gladly, the women falling in behind the queen and her sister. For a
wonder the weather had held fair, and it was not even very cold. The church was
outside the walls, but not far enough to make it worthwhile to go on horseback.
The whole way was lined with people, peering from behind the men-at-arms and
making a joyous noise, for they knew there would be food and wine for the
taking at the castle after the wedding.

As was proper, the men were waiting. William came forward to
meet his daughter. He did not want to lose her, yet it was impossible for him
to damp the joy that showed in her face, and he smiled as he took her hand and
led her on and up the steps to where the Archbishop-elect of Canterbury, the
bishop of Bath, and the bishop of London waited with Raymond, who was flanked
by the king and Richard of Cornwall.

So deep had Raymond been in his consideration of what mischief
Henry was brewing up that he had been only minimally aware of passing along the
road and arriving at the church door. The increase in the noise as the people
cheered the coming of the bride grew slowly, and therefore was not startling
enough to draw his attention. It was only the movement of the men around him,
as Henry and Richard made way for Alys and her father, that made him look up.
His eyes fell on Alys.

At once the tenseness disappeared from Raymond’s face. His
smile cleared his brow, lit his eyes, and then curved his lips. His hand
reached out for Alys’s and hers met his halfway. Everyone within sight of them
smiled, their mutual trust and joy was irresistible. Alys in particular was
uplifted. She had seen that Raymond looked worried and unhappy as she came up
the stairs, and for one awful moment her smile had frozen on her face and her
heart plummeted. Then he had seen her, and his pleasure, the way his hand went
out to her as if for relief and succor, washed out all fear and multiplied her
happiness.

There were no faint or quavering voices. The
archbishop-elect bellowed out the service so that the last and least on the
edge of the crowd could hear, and both Alys and Raymond called their responses
so that no witness could ever say there was doubt or reluctance. When they were
sealed to each other, the crowd roared out their
Fiat! Fiat!
with hearty
goodwill. Most were not sure why this wedding gave them so much enjoyment,
since it was only distantly connected with their personal affairs. However,
there were others of a more perceptive nature who realized that it was
singularly pleasant to have a groom who was sincerely enthusiastic and a bride
who was neither bruised, bloody, in tears, nor on the verge of fainting with
terror.

All ceremonies complete, Raymond led his bride back toward
Wallingford. Men and women now mingled, the king walking with his wife, Richard
with Sancia, William with Elizabeth. Talk was general, and the common folk
cheered with even more enthusiasm, knowing that the feast would now begin, and
fell in behind the group of nobles. The gates of Wallingford would be open to
all today. Carcasses of oxen, sheep, and pigs roasted in the bailey and great
tuns of beer had been broached. Mountains of bread were piled on clean sheets,
and casks of salt and smoked fish stood open. No one would be turned away, and
no one would be hungry, for one day, at least.

Under cover of the noise, after walking some time in
silence, Alys said, “You are troubled, my lord and husband. What has happened?”

“Troubled?” Raymond had been alternately glancing at his
bride and around at the smiling crowd and beautiful countryside. He had
honestly forgotten, for the moment, the problem posed by the king’s brief
conversation. “And what is this lord and husband? Have you forgot my name?”

“No,” Alys sighed, “but it is so nice to say—my lord and my
husband.”

Raymond’s fingers tightened on her hand. “So, my lady and
wife…yes, you are right. It is nice to say.”

“And it is a true thing to me,” Alys insisted. “Now we are
one flesh, one blood, one bone. What falls upon you, falls upon me. Do not hide
trouble from me, Raymond. Share I must, will I nill I, but truly it is my
desire to be one with you in trouble as in joy.”

Raymond looked down into the lovely face turned up to him.
So fair, so delicate, but the chin was firm and the eyes steady and fearless,
and that was more important. To Raymond’s mother and sisters, no word of
trouble was ever said lest they be overpowered with fear, so a man needed to
smile and listen to love songs and talk of tales and feastings no matter how
heavy his heart. Alys’s question had, by now, recalled to Raymond his unease,
but already it seemed less of a problem.

“It was something the king desired I do,” he said softly, “but
now is no time to talk of it.”

“No, indeed,” Alys agreed promptly. There was a good deal of
noise, but Henry was close behind them. “Only, must you answer him at once?”

“I do not know that I need answer more than I have, but it
is not the answering I fear. It is what takes shape in his own mind.”

“How wise you are,” Alys said softly, “but if I hang on you,
which is not unreasonable during this time, he will say no more.”

“And I will have much pleasure.” Raymond’s eyes gleamed. “I
give you leave to hang on me every day, here and elsewhere.”

Alys had forgotten her shyness, but the glitter of her
husband’s eyes brought it all back. She blushed deliciously and hung her head.
This naturally inspired Raymond to further teasing. For the first time in her
life, Alys had no smart replies, finding herself as tongue-tied as any girl who
had never met her husband before the day of her marriage. How long the sweet
modesty would have lasted under continued provocation was questionable, but
they had reached the keep and were greeted with fanfares, which made either
teasing or reply impossible until they were seated at the tables.

Concern for the dishes wiped out any other consideration in
Alys’s mind for a time, but she need not have worried. Each group of cooks had
outdone itself to make its particular portion of the dinner more succulent and
savory than that of any other group.

First came the boars’ heads, mouths propped open to show
tusks and tongues, decorated with curls of pastry. The servant carrying this
dish was flanked by two others, one bearing the whole haunch of an ox, swimming
in a sharp sauce, and the other a rich pudding, spicy-sweet with nuts and
raisins. A second set of servants followed with baked swans, roast capons, and
pheasants, the swans and pheasants dressed in their own outer feathers. The
third triad bore fish, baked sturgeon, boiled pike, and eels in jelly.

Good humor lent good appetite also, especially at the high
table where each couple was content both with one another and with their
neighbors. Eyes gleamed as each pointed to what he or she wanted. Squires in
their lord’s colors served, and pages, also brightly dressed, ran to and fro
carrying portions to be laid upon trenchers and—the height of elegance—upon
silver plates. The butlers, King Henry’s and Earl Richard’s, poured the wine
into golden and, equally precious, glass goblets. The fanfares that had
accompanied the serving of the dishes quieted into more gentle music of lute
and psaltery as health, long life, and many sons were wished for the bride and
groom. Then all gave their attention to the food.

Delicious food makes stuffing inevitable; stuffing brings
repletion. When the sound of conversation rose to a deafening level, the
trumpets called again to herald the arrival of the first subtlety.
Winter
Wedding
, it was called, a towering confection of pastry and crystallized
honey, depicting the wedding party before the church doors. It was carried
right around the hall for each table to see and enjoy before it was placed on a
sideboard. At the end of the dinner, all four subtleties would be compared and
praised, broken up, and distributed among the guests. Now the minstrels in the
gallery struck up a livelier time, servitors scrambled to clear the center of
the great hall, and the bride and groom rose to head the dance. In deference to
full stomachs, the stately
danse au chapelet
came first, Raymond raising
cheers and stampings when he kissed Alys on her lips rather than decorously on
the cheek as required.

The king and queen then led
la gaillarde
, and food
having been reasonably well digested at this point, the musicians struck up a
tourdion.
Older couples hastily retreated to their seats while the younger closed ranks.
The wild whirling, stamping, and leaping was for those with strong stomachs and
excess energy. Mischievously, the musicians played faster and faster as the
dance progressed until first one and then another, then whole groups dropped
out, some sinking exhausted and laughing to the floor.

When the last couple had been vanquished and helped
breathlessly to their seats, the trumpets rang out again to herald the second
course. The dishes were as numerous and as elaborately served, ranging from
roast venison with red currant jelly and a litter of roast suckling pigs to a
sweet of honeyed fruits stiffened with sweet, wine-soaked bread. The subtlety
was
Spring Increasing
, broader than it was tall, displaying rich fields
with calves and lambs and a very pregnant lady, with gold hair of dandelion
flower petals preserved in crystallized honey, leaning on the arm of a
dark-haired attendant swain. This piece was received with shouts of acclaim and
much advice on how to ensure the accuracy of the prediction.

The hilarious mood continued to welcome the jongleurs, who
tumbled and climbed upon each other, juggled gilded balls and flaming torches,
and performed comic acts in which the bittersweet joys of marriage were
illustrated. By the time they were finished, the sun was westering and all were
ready to sample the third course. The noise from the bailey, where the common
folk fed, drank, sported, fought, and watched cruder players, came up through
the windows and nearly overpowered the blare of the trumpets. Everyone smiled.
It was nice to know the hinds were happy, also.

Sensibly, the dishes of the third course were somewhat
smaller than those which preceded them, but they were neither less numerous nor
less elaborate. It opened with roast peacocks, refeathered and with tails
displayed, flanked by egrets and cranes. Stewed rabbits, ragout of venison, and
white meat of chicken prepared in a white curd with almonds followed. Last came
a variety of fish, perch and flounder and grilled herrings, all with sauces to
tempt tiring palates. The subtlety was
Summer Bearing
, and showed father
and mother admiring their child being suckled by a wetnurse in an orchard heavy
with fruit.

The minstrels played complicated instrumental music for a while
before the dancing began, and fewer couples took to the floor. Some were too
heavy with food, some too dizzy or somnolent with wine. Alys was pleased that
Raymond was still quite sober. There had been many cups raised to him, and he had
lifted his to each toast, but there was more water than wine in his goblet, and
even so, he drank of it sparingly. He had no mind to need to be carried to his
wedding bed and perhaps being incapable of doing his duty in it.