“Yes. I am afraid I must trouble you a while longer,” he said awkwardly. He could not quite make himself meet Laud’s eyes. “I must ask you to play host for a time. I have reason to doubt the…loyalty of my household.”
“It would be my honor.” Laud’s bushy brows lifted, and Bastin thought hopelessly that he might guess it all, just from that. “As long as you like.”
“You have never asked me for anything.” Bastin allowed Laud to haul him to his feet, catching the taller man by his jerkin to find his balance. They had both consumed a good quantity of wine. “No riches. No favors. Melun would reward you well if you handed me over to them. Why don’t you?”
“Well…we are friends, aren’t we?” Laud looked at him with some surprise. “I wouldn’t do such a thing on principle, but Ihope it is not a sacrilege to like you for your own person. We have been friends since we were boys.”
“No, we are friends.” Bastin felt a knot tighten in his throat and had to look away. “If there is ever anything I may give you,” he said, meaning it with every drop of his own sacred blood, “you have only to ask.”
***
A coded message on a folded scrap of parchment, concealed in the hollow of a tree:
Do what must be done. At all costs, they cannot be allowed to leave.
***
Their last supper in Tresingale was a grand affair.
Ophele had been planning it for weeks, with Mionet and Azelma’s help. The dining table in the solar was almost unrecognizable with so much silver and crystal and fine-patterned china, groaning beneath platters of food and wine glowing like rubies. In the center of the table, a single arrangement of pine and red-berried holly had given Mionet an excuse to explain flower arranging.
It was like stepping into another world.
“Your Grace,” they all said together when she and Remin appeared, bowing.
Oh, didn’t they all look so fine! Ophele tried not to stare as Remin seated her at the table, marveling at all the silk and satin, gold and silver, the jade ornaments in Mionet’s hair, and who knew Tounot had such a gorgeous silver chain? Miche was particularly eye-catching with his long blond hair gleaming over his shoulders and a crimson doublet studded with tiny golden suns. And when had she ever seen Justenin look so splendid?
At Remin’s nod, they all drew out their seats to sit down, Tounot and Auber, Leonin and Davi, with Juste thoughtfully pulling out Mionet’s chair and Huber at the end. Ophele was relieved that he had come, though she felt a pang at the sight of the sleeve pinned up over his missing arm.
“Wen was back in the kitchen today, my lord,” said Miche, putting on his company manners as he and Justenin served the meal. “He said he’s not too poorly to cook a cod.”
So saying, he lifted the lid from the largest dish with a flourish, revealing an immense cod still dressed in its scales, bathed in a red sauce that promised to be spicy. It was arranged on a river of rice and greens shaped to look like rippling water weeds, and there was a murmur of appreciation up and down the table.
“Only Wen touched this?” Remin asked, and gestured for more at Miche’s nod, filling his plate for the first time in weeks. Each dish was more beautiful and tempting than the last, and if Miche only offered Remin a selection of those dishes, and paused to murmur to him before each was served, at least Remin showed no sign of distress as everyone else devoured the rest.
Ophele had never had such a meal. Long before dessert, her sides were creaking, and she sat back to sip at a mixture of wine and honey mead, cultivating her palate to the taste of the grapes.
The table was a babble of conversation. Miche, Tounot, and Remin were filled with plans for a vineyard, with pleasant visions of trellises at the foot of Justenin’s observatory. On Ophele’s other side, Justenin had collared Auber and was issuing dire warnings about a bull with a penchant for escape. And across the table, Leonin and Mionet were teaching Davi how to discreetly dispose of fish bones.
But there was one person who was not participating in any of these conversations. Ophele had considered Huber carefully,when she was choosing the menu; a man with one arm could not cut his own meat, and she didn’t want to embarrass him the first time he came to supper. But even though everything was tender and bite-sized, he still had to chase it about his plate with a fork.
Ophele watched through her eyelashes, her heart aching for him. She had never known anyone who had been hurt so terribly, or at least, anyone who hadjustbeen hurt so terribly. Davi had lost an eye, and it didn’t seem to trouble him greatly, but after watching Justenin struggle with his dislocated shoulder, she could only imagine how hard it must be for Huber.
Ought she to say something? He was a proud man, perhaps he might not like to talk about his troubles.
“My lord,” said Tounot as she was trying to decide, and rose from the table with a wave to include his brother knights. “As you have no minstrels yet for your hall, we will do our humble best to fill it with music. Lovely Lady of the Andelin, we hope to earn your favor.”
In moments, they had produced instruments and moved the table out of the way, clearing a large space before the fire. But of course, they were knights; they would have learned how to play when they were boys. Ophele looked at Remin with delight as they strummed and piped, Tounot on his lute, Leonin picking nimbly at a mandolin, and Miche with a wood flute in his fingers, his dimples flickering as he smiled.
“A fisher that lived in a far country, On a low green hill, with a view of the sea…” sang Tounot, and Leonin joined in, the two men’s voices blending pleasantly together as Miche tapped his toe to mark time. “Seven lovely daughters had he…”
Most songs were new to Ophele, who had always been denied such pleasures. It hadn’t even occurred to her to arrange entertainment after supper; it had been enough to have food, to see Remin eat the food, and to have them all together one last time. But they must have discussed it amongst themselves,because Justenin borrowed Tounot’s lute next and played a surprisingly moving song about a knight lost in battle, whose spirit came back as an owl to watch over his sweetheart.
Then Davi sang, and Leonin, and when it was Auber’s turn, he glanced at his brother knights and clapped his hands in a rhythm that made every one of them instantly set aside their instruments.
Oh it’s morning time, you sleeping lads, and time to leave your beds
It’s sunrise soon, take up your packs, we’ve weary miles ahead
