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She sighed, relieved that the ogling eyes of those hunters would not humiliate her ever again. Leaping to her feet, she clapped her hands.
“There’s so much to prepare, is there not? Can I choose the jesters, the jugglers, minstrels and—”
He laughed. “Yes, yes. You can. Off with you. You have one week to make ready.”
She danced out the solar, swirling her heavy skirts. Already she had a gown in mind. They would roast a swan and a boar. Banners would be hung on the walls and fresh scented rushes laid on the floor of the great hall. The pewter would be polished and the dogs well fed, so they would not pester the guests. The castle would buzz with guests and nobody, not one of them, would know that their host was a beast inside a man. The secret was theirs, and it thrilled her, knowing she was the only woman capable of satisfying his demands. The only one he loved. The future was set, the path chosen. In a matter of weeks they would be wed and she would never have to worry about impressing a young man ever again.
Chapter Thirty
The castle gates were opened, and a throng entered the inner sanctum of Gervais’s home. He welcomed, with a smiling face, those who paid him taxes, and he paid them back justice and protection. Of those who came, the shining armour of the knights who swore allegiance to him had the most glittering trains and smartest liveries. When, if ever, the kingdom went to war, these men would provide service to him. Fortunately, peace ruled, and Gervais’s wealth was his to enjoy.
The lowly serfs were not invited. Neither were the other inhabitants of the castle who served him. However, what scraps were left over would be sent out to them, and Matilda had insisted they might listen outside the keep to
the music and make merry in the courtyard. Her kindness shone through, what he had suspected was a true aspect of her heart proved to be real, and it comforted him to see she had learnt to demonstrate it.
Gervais stood in the courtyard and welcomed his guests. Among the arrivals, riding on a mare, her black hair spilling over her shoulders, was a familiar face. He took the reins and helped the lady down. She greeted him with a curtsy, then a peck on his cheek.
“Cousin,” she said, smiling. “Don’t look so agape. I received your invitation and made all haste to join the feasting. Did you think I would miss out? Now, where is this bride of yours?”
“Marcia, welcome.” He waved his arm toward the keep. “I assumed you would stay away.”
“Tsk,” she said, gathering up her skirts. “It is your father that is intransigent. Your mother’s side of the family is less fraught with your past. Your aunt sends her regards, and begs you to visit.”
Gervais followed the lanky girl up the steps. It had been many years since he’d last seen her, and since then, she had grown into a woman, complete with reasonable hips and a plump mouth. She would make a good companion for Matilda at the dinner table.
Marcia was the last of the notable guests to arrive; she had the farthest to travel. The guest chambers of the keep and gatehouse were full to capacity. The bustle of people was unfamiliar to the castle, and many strangers roamed amongst the invited guests, for with the more exalted ones came their servants and men-at-arms. All of them had to be billeted in the outer precincts of the castle. For a few hours chaos ensued until Gervais, Lionel, and Jacob brought order.
If any person he might consider a threat to his person had breached his walls, they were invisible to him. He knew those he had asked to attend well enough, and there was little he could do if they brought a ramble of manservants and maids with them.
The banquet was laid out across the tables, the wine poured generously, and the music splendidly performed on the gallery above the hall. He heard, from his position on the high table, laughter and singing, some drunkenness, and a few disagreements. By him, Matilda beamed, her lush ribbons of hair neatly arranged under her headdress, her dress golden with trimmings. The preparations had gone to plan, and she had helped, choosing dishes and music, things that mattered the least to Gervais. He focused his attention on talk, the banter of conversation that allowed him to gauge the mood of the people. The indications were good. They were happy with his oversight and he in turn believed there was no likelihood of trouble, especially with the serfs.
Marcia kept Matilda occupied with trivial family gossip, which Matilda soaked up, and the two appeared a good match. It would be a pity to see Marcia return home, but he could not keep her at his castle when she was expected to wed.
“Does no one court you?” Matilda asked unashamedly.
Marcia blushed. “No, my lady, for I am just in my majority. I hope soon to be called upon.”
“You are pretty,” Matilda said. “I’m sure you will attract a good host of young men to your door.”
“None as fine as Gervais.”
It was Matilda’s turn to blush. Gervais hid a smile and winked appreciatively at his mischievous cousin.
The evening lengthened into night, and gradually the merriment dwindled. Some fell asleep in the hall, others left to retire. The musicians disappeared into the kitchens to mop up the leftovers, and outside in the courtyard, the fires were dampened down and the cheerful crowd dispersed to their beds.
Marcia bid goodnight, and at last Gervais was able to take his bride’s hand and guide her to his chamber. There he locked the door for privacy and walked her backwards to the bed. She knew what to expect, for every night since he had introduced her to his Zalim, she had valiantly gone with him.
He believed that he had merged his two aspects into one, and she had no fear of the beast. There was nothing in his repertoire that she had not experienced in the last few days, and what he planned for their future would be an exploration for them both. He had high hopes for her.
The golden cloth slipped onto the floor by the foot of the bed and she stood, perfectly poised, smooth-skinned and glowing, her breasts rising and falling in tune with his heartbeats.
A low growl was all that signalled the rise of the Zalim from backstage to front. She tipped her chin up, offered him her slavish, beautiful eyes, and sank to her knees.
Later, in the night, he stirred and wriggled free of her sleeping body. Lying there, he sighed. In the morning, their guests would leave, and he and Matilda could make the final arrangements for their quiet wedding. With Marcia as a witness, the brief ceremony would draw to an end that part of his life that had both served him well and haunted him badly. A new adventure dawned, and he was ready to embrace it.
Chapter Thirty-One
At dawn, she left him to bathe in the privacy of her chamber, and while she did, Gervais bid farewell to those departing early. He appraised the disarray of the Great Hall and chivvied his servants to make amendments. By midmorning, some semblance of order was returning to his keep.
