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“I pray you be seated, Garron. You are so tall my neck is creaking. Vivien, bring my lord a chair.”
The chair weighed more than Vivien did, and so Garron fetched the chair himself. Once he was seated, Blanche of Howarth moved to stand beside him. She placed a proprietary white hand lightly on his shoulder.
Garron was appalled. What was she doing? Didn’t she realize Merry was like as not to stick a knife in her ribs? He saw Merry looking from his face to Blanche’s hand, her eyes narrowing, and he knew she was wishing for that knife. He wanted to tell Blanche to take three steps away from him, for her own safety. He cleared his throat.
“Wine for our visitor, Mathilda,” the queen said.
Mathilda of Matthis poured him a glass of ruby red Aquitaine wine, from Graelam de Moreton. The queen said comfortably as he tasted the wine, “You know Graelam, do you not, my lord?”
“Aye, I know him well. I nearly broke my neck two years ago when I tried to ride his destrier on a wager. I was doing well until Graelam whistled. The brute threw me into a mess of thorn bushes, the destrier, not Graelam. He was laughing too hard to do anything.”
The queen laughed as well. “As Baron Cotswolt told you, my lord, the king is visiting his uncle in Cornwall. A messenger arrived yesterday with a letter from him. He wrote that Graelam and Kassia are in residence, as well as his daughter, Philippa, and her husband, Dienwald de Fortenberry, and their children. The castle is evidently trembling with all the noise. I could tell he wished I was there with our children as well.”
Blanche smiled toward Garron. “I remember picking thorns out of you, Garron. There were thorns everywhere.”
I’m going to Hell. There is Satan with his arms open ready to receive me.
Merry rose slowly to her feet, her eyes never leaving Blanche’s face. “When Garron and I are wed, I will pull all the thorns out of his hide. No one else. You will remove your hand from my betrothed’s shoulder or I will prepare a decoction to turn your face blue. I am very nearly a healer.”
There wasn’t a single breath drawn for a good three seconds.
The queen finally said, “Aye, Blanche, Lord Garron is shortly to belong to another lady. I do not believe your husband would like to have you returned to him with your lovely face blue. Dark blue or light blue, Merry?”
“Well,” Merry said, “mayhap she would become a blue cow. The decoction I’m thinking about isn’t always predictable.”
Blanche’s hand bunched into a fist before she finally lifted it from his shoulder.
The queen said, “Do you know, ladies, I have kept thorns out of my own lord’s perfect self for years upon years now. It is a wife’s duty.”
The ladies laughed politely.
The queen said, “I see no reason for you and Merry not to be wed, Lord Garron. You are no longer the king’s guard, you are an earl. You now have wealth and rank. You will simply add more wealth and another title. My lord will ensure you will govern both Valcourt and Wareham wisely. Merry, I give you and Lord Garron of Kersey permission to wed. Indeed, I will see to it myself. My lord wrote he would be home within a sennight. It will be done then, unless, naturally, you have committed some foul deed, Lord Garron, then I do not know what will happen to you.”
“He is too noble, too kind, to commit any foul deed, my lady.”
The queen laughed. “I jest, Merry, please do not faint.”
It was too easy, Garron thought, simply too easy. When the king returned, he would look at Garron and denounce him for a worthless upstart. Garron rubbed his neck.
33
LONDON
I will wed him tomorrow. I will make a list of good deeds, and I swear I will do all of them.
She was going to wed him. She wanted to shout it from every rooftop in London, though there probably weren’t very many of the incredible number of inhabitants in this mud-soaked filthy city who would know or care.
Merry was wearing one of Vivien’s gowns, long in the torso with sleeves that came to a point below her hands and a braided golden belt that fit snugly around her hips. The gown reached the floor, something that made her smile since she’d become used to Lady Anne’s too-short skirts. She knew Eleanor had sent a message to Valcourt to have all her belongings sent here to court. Her maid, Ella, would accompany the belongings. She missed the woman who’d raised her from a babe. From her earliest memories, it was Ella’s face she saw—
“You are daydreaming, Merry. Just look at your stitches.” Vivien of Leicester laughed as she pointed to the four crooked stitches on the soft silk cloth. The queen, seeing that peace reigned, left her ladies to gossip and sew to speak to a courtier, and so Vivien poked Merry lightly in the ribs. “You are seeing your lord naked, are you not? Seeing him come over you and—” Vivien gave a delighted shudder.
The ladies snickered and leaned in close.
Alice of Kent said with great practicality, “She is not a maid, Vivien, so she knows what he will do.”
“He must have done it very well since she dreams away the afternoon,” said Mathilda of Matthis. She paused a moment, frowned into the distance. “Although I cannot recall Garron ever doing such things badly.” She turned to Merry. “I trust you were a virgin?”
Merry blinked. Mathilda of Matthis? She and Garron?
