Hearts in Cups (10 page)

Once within the
doorway, Hollin paused to let her eyes adjust themselves to the dimmed light.
"Her Grace, the Lady Hollin Morwen Medicat ap Lir, Duchess of
Langstraad!" the voice of the doorkeeper boomed, and she found herself
walking through the doors, as she had many times in the past, and into the
enormous space of the hall.

It was an oblong room
with great terminal apses at either end, very high and spacious, with an
internal four-sided colonnade carrying, under the barrel-vaulted ceiling, a
clerestory of windows that allowed light and air to enter the room. Columns of
many different coloured stone, their capitals carved with birds and beasts in
amongst flowers and vines, ran the length of the room. Four huge fireplaces
were set at intervals along the walls, and tapestries full of colour and
movement were hung in the intervening spaces between the pillars. The main
doorway was set midway along one of the long walls. In the northern apse were
hung the five standards representing the five Great Houses of the Pentarchy:
the Red Stag leaping on white of Tuenth, the Green Dragon rising on gold of
Langstraad, the Golden Boar charging on black of Creon, the Black Swan swimming
on red of Mirvanovir and the Silver Griffon rampant on blue of Sandovar. In the
southern apse were hung the smaller standards of the Minor Houses: a black
tower on a blue chevron for the Inner Ward, a blue dagger on a green chevron
for Pentarell, a gold harp on a red chevron for Treves, a green trefoil on
black chevron for Gresha and a red arrow on a gold chevron for Thurin. All of
the Minor House insignia were mounted on cream-coloured linen.

Directly opposite the
door, high on the western wall, was a round window containing a pentagon with
the five within five pentangle, symbolizing the unity of the Houses, worked in
lead and coloured glass. The westering sun caused the pattern of the window to
be laid directly in the center of the floor at this time of day, so that as
each member of the various Houses came into the hall they were bathed in the
multi-coloured light from the window. Beneath the standards, on raised
platforms across each of the apses, were set long tables with high-backed,
individually carved chairs for the principle members of the Great and Minor
Houses. All the other invited nobles and guests had taken their places at the
tables laid out in the center of the room.

Hollin entered the hall
and was momentarily washed in the coloured lights before being escorted to her
place at the table of the Great Houses. Beside her stood a young man with a
friendly, open countenance, Lord Hywell Gunnar ap Halberstad, heir to the Great
House of Tuenth. On the other side of him she could see the short, stolid
figure of his mother, the duchess, next to the Duke of Tuenth.

"His Grace,
Branwilde Kayn d'Aurilac, Duke of Creon! Her Grace, Dierdre Grainne ap Derwan,
Duchess of Creon! Lord Owen Branwilde d'Aurilac! Lady Angharad Dierdre
d'Aurilac!" The quartet traveled in stately pairs up the length of the
hall. The duke was a tall, handsome man of about fifty years with strong,
prominent features and a short beard that was just beginning to grey. Beside
him, raven-haired and almost as tall as her husband, the Lady Dierdre walked
slowly, her face stern with dignity. Creon's heir, Lord Owen, looked very much
like a younger version of his father without the blockiness of age, but Lady
Angharad did not favour either of her parents. She was small and slight of
stature with a mass of pale brown hair that tumbled around her shoulders and
down her back despite numerous hairpins and the delicate circlet of gold and
amethysts she wore around her head. Alert blue-violet eyes darted restively
about the room as she followed her parents up the steps to take her place
beside them on the dais. Hollin was amused to see Hywell's appraising gaze on
the Duke of Creon's daughter. If her parents were seeking a good match for her,
they had brought her to the right place.

"His Grace, Niall
Alcuin de Brennin, Duke of Mirvanovir! Her Grace, Rashara Clementiel de
Sharonara, Duchess of Mirvanovir! Lord Galen Niall de Brennin!" Hollin's
attention was immediately engaged by the approach of this trio. As always, the
duchess commanded the admiration of every man in the room. It was more than
just physical beauty that garnered this reaction to her. With the Duchess of
Mirvanovir, it was almost a chemical or, in Hollin's estimation an alchemical,
attraction. Whatever it was Rashara did or used, the result was that most men
found her irresistible, including, it seemed, her husband the duke. She was his
second wife, the first having died many years ago after a very short and
fruitless marriage. Rumour said that when Rashara refused to become his
mistress, Niall had had his first wife removed by poison to open the way for
marriage to Rashara. Whether the rumour was true or not, Talina was long dead
and Rashara had reigned as Duchess of Mirvanovir for almost fifteen years, and
had produced the duke's sole heir. With her dark gold hair pulled up on her
head leaving her exquisite white neck and shoulders bare, many would have
judged her to be closer to the Lady Angharad's age rather than a woman in her
late thirties.

Dressed in the black
and crimson of Mirvanovir and wearing his state crown, the duke escorted his
lady to the dais. If his wife was described as beautiful by most men, then it
was equally true that the duke would be judged handsome by the majority of
women present. Tall and sinewy rather than muscular, there was a sleekness to his
body and the way in which he moved that was precise and cat-like. The dark,
close-curled hair, thick as fleece, showed no grey and, unless one looked
closely, his face had few lines He had black eyes which could be softly languid
one moment and snapping with brightness in the next, and a nose that was
straight and thin, a perfect complement to his mouth.

As these two magnetic
personages paced the length of the hall they were followed almost unnoticed by
their only child and heir. Lord Galen had none of his father's suave manner nor
his mother's extraordinary good looks. He was a gawky, ill-visaged boy of
fourteen with a bad complexion and a limp mop of fair hair who, when he spoke
at all, was never listened to. He might have engendered more pity if he had been
less apt to whine when he did get the chance to speak.

After the entrances and
seating of the Great Houses, the Minor Houses made their entry. However, before
seating themselves at the far end of the hall, they first approached the dais
of the Great Houses and made their obeisance to those seated. The Earl of the
Inner Ward, Lord Larth Brescom, stomped up and bowed with characteristic
stiffness. He was followed by the Countess of Pentarell, Lady Laurin Miriel
Danane, a lively and still graceful septuagenarian. The Earl of Gresha, Lord
Lewys Glendark, piloted his pretty, young wife, Lady Maire Cadfell, to her
place at the Minor House table. Being her first visit to Pentarin as well as
her first council session, she was evincing signs of acute nervousness in her
darting eyes and the bobbing quality of her curtsies. Next, Hollin watched with
pleasure as the Viscount and Viscountess of Treves came forward to bow
serenely. They were quickly followed by Lord Aidan Ravenspur, the Viscount of
Thurin, and his wife, Lady Caitlan ap Derwan, younger sister to the Duchess of
Creon.

"Does this seem to
take longer each year?" Hollin heard Hywell say to her under his breath.

"At least we only
do this once a year," she replied keeping her eyes trained straight ahead
as the last of the guests finished bowing.

Lord Percamber rose to
address the crowd with a speech of welcome, after which everyone raised their
glasses and drank to his health and then to each of the Great Houses in turn.
Servants began carrying in trays of food and flagons of drink. Musicians
strolled in amongst the tables, playing their instruments while the voices of
the guests were raised in an incessant tide of conversation that at times vied
with and overcame the music. Between the fires, food and multitude of sounds,
the air in the hall became quite thick as the evening drew on. The early
portion of the banquet was traditionally devoted to consuming large quantities
of food and drink, and the latter portion to listening to music and poetry and
watching the court dancers.

Drinking as little of
the potent mead as was politely possible, Hollin settled down to wait the
evening out. Wearing the stiff and heavy formal dress, not to mention the
weight of the crown, was not conducive to a relaxed evening. Also, while the
less exalted of the guests might stand and move about, some of them even
joining in the dancing, members of the Houses were expected to sit in rigid
splendor for the many hours that the banquet would entail. Early in her career,
Hollin's mother had warned her to avoid drinking or eating too much.
"State Occasions are not meant to be enjoyed, at least not by us,"
she had told her daughter. Fortunately, sitting beside Hywell spared her the
dull conversations that others at the table were indulging in. Since important
matters could hardly be discussed here, trifling inconsequentialities were the
main fare. On the other side of Hollin, Lord Percamber gazed preoccupied out
into the room. After greeting her, he had turned his attention to the running
of the festivities.

"I don't think
I've had the pleasure of seeing your grace since last year's council session.
You're looking very well," Hywell said, "considering that this place
is like an oven and you're wearing the equivalent of a fair-sized rock on your head."

Hollin turned to meet
the impish grin of her neighbor. He was an attractive young man with unusual
almond-shaped green eyes and a healthy shock of russet hair. "Has it been
so long? With compliments like those it seems longer still," she replied
equably. He covered his laugh with his cup of mead. "You weren't at the
Earl of Gresha's wedding last autumn?" she inquired conversationally.

"I wanted to go,
but father deemed it too far to travel. He said I was of more use in my own
duchy and sent my brother Blaise as ambassador in my stead." Hywell
sounded both wistful and resentful. It was evident that he was beginning to
chafe under the restraints placed on him by his father. "I heard the
wedding was quite splendid. You were there, were you not?"

Hollin nodded, taking a
sip of the honey wine. "Yes, it was a very pleasant occasion. Then again,
I didn't have to wear full state regalia for it." She had traveled to
Gresha with Ian and her grandparents, the future Countess of Gresha being
related to her grandmother's family. Ian had been on his best behavior acting
as her formal escort, and she had thoroughly enjoyed herself.

As if divining her
thoughts, Hywell continued. "My brother Blaise said that your cousin was
visiting Mirvanovir's court recently. How is Lord Ian these days? I thought I
might see him this council session."

"No, he usually
acts as steward for me while I attend the Pentacle Council," she
explained. "So it was Blaise that my cousin met in Mirvanovir. He mentioned
that one of you was visiting when he was there." She looked past Hywell
and his parents to where Blaise ap Halberstad lounged in his chair. He was tall
and large boned like his brother, with the same distinctive eyes but a darker
shade of hair, brushed and dressed with great care and attention. In many ways
he looked and acted the elder of the brothers though he was third in the line
of succession. She vaguely remembered seeing him at Gresha's wedding
celebration.

"..and so, since
my brother Torval has not been in good health of recent years, Blaise has taken
it on himself to be the family's ambassador." Hollin looked into the
guileless eyes of the young lord and recalled Ian's intimation about the Duke
of Tuenth's son and the Duchess of Mirvanovir. She pushed the thought out of
her mind. True or not, it was not her problem and she had no intention of
passing such a story on to anyone.

The noise in the hall
was diminishing as the evening's main performers began to enter the hall and
the empty platters were born away. Music was made an accompaniment and the
poets and storytellers started to weave their art. Hollin always enjoyed this
part of the banquet and wished that she could be more comfortable to enjoy it
the more. Wine continued to be served in copious quantities and it would not be
long before language would be superseded by more music and then by dancing. The
performers circulated about the huge room, stopping, entertaining and then
moving on.

The sound of a lute and
a strong baritone voice caught Hollin's attention and she noted with pleasure
the young musician she had met during her evening with the Lord and Lady de
Chantalcalm. He stood before the table of the Great Houses singing one of the
ancient ballads, making it new with that special talent Hollin had heard
previously. When he finished there was a murmur of pleasure and appreciation
from his noble audience. He continued to sing and play several more songs,
eventually moving on to make way for one of the court poets. Hollin,
half-listening as the poet commenced his recital, watched the young musician
wend his way through the hall and slip out one of the side doors. She was
disappointed that he would evidently not be performing again for them that
evening. Later, she noticed the Duke of Creon's daughter surreptitiously
leaving the hall. Hollin was sympathetic; it took patience and training to sit
through a royal banquet. Fleetingly she wished that she could also slip away
unnoticed for awhile. Instead, she readjusted her posture and continued to sit,
watching and listening with gracious attention, ignoring the ache in her neck.