Hearts in Cups (33 page)

Next to Ian was seated
the girth and bulk of his grandfather, Baron Alister de Medicat. He had a large
bristling beard still showing rust in its iron and sharp black eyes, tiny and
bright from within the folds and wrinkles of his ruddy skin, which scanned the
hall as he ate and drank and talked in great, gusty quantities. At his side,
his wife, the Lady Eloise Larraine de Medicat, sat eating little and talking
not at all. In contrast to her husband, she was a thin, little woman with pale,
colourless features. It was as if in marrying him she had been drained and left
a mere husk so that he might become the larger and more vibrant character. She
had born him two live children and a host of still-births over their many years
together and had silently endured his feasting, his drinking, his wenching and
his temper with nothing more than a pinched, vague smile.

Further down the table
sat Lady Idris, the baroness of Langstraad's largest and northernmost province,
along with her husband Lord Alwyn Glendark, cousin to the current Earl of
Gresha. If Ian had been in the mood for company, he would have placed these two
nearer to him, for he had learned from past experiences at Hollin's table that
they were intelligent and interesting dinner companions. But Ian had no wish to
talk to anyone this evening, and the rites of protocol had forced him to seat
his grandfather at his side.

"So you're
thinking of taking a wife, are you?" Ian's grandfather moved his elbow in
his grandson's direction.

"Yes, but I'd
prefer not to discuss it here and now," Ian replied with a lowered voice.

"Oh aye, it's
family business." He finished his tankard of ale and held it aloft to be
refilled. "It's about time though," he went on. "Find a girl
from the right family and get yourself some heirs, that's what you should be
doing. Though don't go tossing all of your old linen out immediately." He
winked hugely at Ian. "That's a nice little wench you've got between your
sheets now."

"Have you seen Sir
Griswold this evening?" Ian asked, determined to channel his grandfather's
interest into another direction. "I spoke with Sir Owain earlier this
morning about repairs in the western stable wall but I need Griswold's opinion
as well," Ian continued, steering the discussion with his grandfather
towards more mundane projects.

The interview with
Kathryn had been difficult, provoking floods of tears and recriminations. When
he had baldly let her see what her options were if she did not wish to comply
with his conditions, she had changed her tune. By the end of their talk, she
had agreed to abide by his rules and seemed, perversely, to admire him the more
for having shown her the gulf between them. At least her administrations later
in bed had not been the less enthusiastic for his admonishment of her earlier.

The evening dragged on
and his mind grew more fatigued as, beside him, his grandfather alternately
drank and snored. In former times he might have drunk near as much as the baron
and planned to continue the carouse long after the rest of the castle was
asleep, but now there was too much that he needed to do and keeping his wits
sharp was foremost. Tomorrow he must hear and acknowledge each of the pledges
made to him by his vassals, remembering who each of them was and what they
held. He also had to present and charge his grandfather with acting the
go-between with the Duke of Creon for his daughter's hand. Looking once again
over the heads of those who were bound to him and to whom he was reciprocally
bound, he rose to take his leave of them.

Chapter 15

The summer storms that
threatened in the north had not yet made their way south into Creon. The road
over which the heavy coach made its leisurely progress was relatively free of
ruts and rocks, and its passengers' discomfort was mild. The shutters had been
removed from the windows so that the youngest of the four women riding within
could look out at the passing countryside, and the men-at-arms who accompanied
the coach were instructed to ride at enough of a distance to neither impede the
view nor stir up the dust. Well-tended farmland rolled in green waves around
them and the heat of the mid-day sun loosed smells of earth and plants and the
occasional musty odors of animals. Flies buzzed in and out through the open
windows and the continual creak of wood and leather kept conversation to a
minimum. Not that there would have been much chatter if all had been silent,
the old woman mused as she watched the solemn, brooding face of the young girl
sitting beside her. Across from the oldest and youngest of the passengers sat
two middle aged servants, stolidly staring out the windows.

One month ago, Lady
Alainne de Thurin, the Dowager Duchess of Creon, had received a letter from her
daughter-in-law asking that her grand-daughter, Angharad, be permitted to come
on an extended visit to her summer estate. Details of her grand-daughter's
misconduct in Pentarin were also sent, along with Dierdre's admonishment not to
let Angharad out of sight or sound while she was in her care. Lady Alainne had
always been especially fond of her grand-daughter, if not of her
daughter-in-law, and had graciously consented. The girl, usually bright and
lively, had arrived a few days later a dispirited shadow of herself. She had
been biddable and uncomplaining but had moped inconsolably, steadfastly
refusing to discuss any part of what had occurred in Pentarin.

Two days ago the
dowager duchess had received another letter, this one from her son, requesting
that his mother escort Angharad back to his capital city, Gwenth. She was
mystified by this request until she read further and found that Branwilde was
negotiating a betrothal for his daughter. Lady Alainne had refrained from
informing her morose grand-daughter of this turn of events, thinking that it
was the duty of her parents to deliver the happy news. So, Angharad was simply
told that her parents wished her back in Gwenth and that her grandmother had
decided to accompany her. Angharad had accepted the announcement with a shrug
and complete lack of interest. Hoping that her parents’ news would snap the
girl out of her bout of self-pity, the old lady had ordered her coach made
ready.

 The journey was
half-over and Lady Alainne wished heartily to see the walls of Gwenth.
Traveling in close proximity with her depressed grand-daughter had begun to get
on her nerves. Even the landscape looked dull and uninteresting in her company,
and the two maids had taken on sullen aspects. Small annoyances had become
bothersome irritants to a woman who usually viewed the world with an unruffled
equanimity.

Like neighboring
Langstraad, Creon's capital was situated on the side of a mountain. Above the
northern plains of Carmathon, the duchy's bread basket, the city of Gwenth was
architecturally somewhere between the fortress of Castle Lir and the palatial
expanse of Pentarin. It was a walled city, set high enough to see well in all
directions, but composed of streets lined with shops and houses, with the
residence of the duke and his family behind a walled keep. The buildings were
constructed of an assortment of materials, from timber to bricks and stone, but
all were sturdily made and most were pleasant to the eye. The keep in which the
ducal family lived was the oldest building in the city, though substantially modified
and added to over the years.

The dowager duchess'
coach and guards were welcomed at the city's main gate and passed through to
begin the climb up to the ducal residence. The coach's windows had been
shuttered before entering the city, so that only the muffled sounds of the
city's inhabitants were heard in the close dimness. At last the coach came to a
creaking, shuddering halt, and the door was opened to admit air and light. A
hand was extended by the doorman and the old lady alighted to be greeted by her
son and daughter-in-law. Both Branwilde and Dierdre had to stoop to drop a kiss
of greeting on the old woman's wrinkled cheek, and both murmured salutations,
her son's being less restrained than his wife's. Both gazed past her as their
daughter emerged from the coach's interior, looking as wan and unhappy as when
they had put her into the coach a month ago, and the dowager could not help but
notice the disappointment that their daughter's appearance caused them.

"Come inside, you
must be quite tired after your long journey," Dierdre said smoothly,
avoiding any hint of awkwardness. "Your rooms have been made ready;
perhaps you would like to retire to them now?"

The two maids who had
traveled with the ducal pair followed their mistress wearily, glad to be out of
the coach and away from the constriction of enforced closeness. Once within the
castle walls, Angharad was led off by one of the house-staff while Lady Alainne
was shown to that suite of rooms reserved solely for her use when she deigned
to be in residence in the capital.

An hour later, rested
and cleaned of the grime from her journey, the dowager duchess was not
surprised when her lady-in-waiting knocked on the door and informed her that
the duke wished to speak privately with her, if she was agreeable. She was
agreeable and he entered to find his mother seated with her feet daintily
perched upon a small upholstered foot-stool, an inquisitive tilt to her regal
head.

There was not much to
mark these two as mother and son. She was a small, plump creature with a soft,
doughy face and tiny hands and feet. He was large and muscular with the tanned
skin that bespoke the huntsman and the stiff, abrupt manner of the military
man. Only in the mutual proud bearing and the willful strength of their gaze
was similarity to be discerned. Alainne was always somewhat amused at how like
his father her son was. Would Owen be stamped the same way, she wondered?

"You are looking
well, mother," Branwilde said, pecking a kiss on the proffered cheek and
sitting in the chair opposite hers. "We apologize for all of this
shuffling about with Angharad. We're grateful to you for what you've done and I
am hopeful that all our troubles with her shall soon be resolved." She
marked an almost jovial air about him and concluded that he must be
well-pleased with whatever plans had been arranged.

"I can't say that
I've done much good for the girl," she observed sourly. "I'm sorry to
say I've brought her back in much the same condition that I received her."

"Well yes,"
the hint of a shadow passed over his face, "but that will be
remedied."

"I assume that you
are speaking of the betrothal mentioned in your letter.” Curiosity laid hold of
her. “May I ask who her husband is to be?"

The smile on
Branwilde's face broadened. "We are in the process of negotiating a
marriage treaty with the new Duke of Langstraad!" A bewildered expression
came over his mother's face.  Branwilde hastened to explain. "Alister
de Medicat's grandson, Ian, has been named duke regent until one of Genvra Iscoed's
girls comes of age. Anyway, Alister has approached me, from the boy himself,
asking to arrange a marriage contract."

"But I thought
that the boy was here last winter and there was no interest?" his mother
pressed, taken aback by this turn-about attitude.

"True, but at that
time he was only the grandson of a baron; now he is the acting duke of one of
the Great Houses. Even when he is eventually retired from office, he will have
much influence, and he is still his grandfather's heir." Branwilde paused and
when he continued, his manner was somewhat more subdued. "As Dierdre told
you in her letter, the incident in Pentarin was damaging to Angharad's
immediate chances of finding a suitable husband. The gossip after Dierdre
returned to Gwenth with Angharad was very unkind."

Alainne's mouth was
drawn down into a frown. She could well imagine the unpleasant and salacious
remarks that would be passed among those who were envious of the family's high
position. For someone with Dierdre's exacting views of social conduct,
evidenced in her own unstained character, this must have been a heavy blow
indeed. It was no wonder that she had sent the girl out of her sight.

"As I say, the
future seemed rather bleak. Only Sir Hildreth had made any overtures, but he's
older than I am and has already had two wives. Though, it is true that he is
quite wealthy and many think well of him." Alainne could think of none who
did, but refrained from speaking so aloud. "Then I received Alister's
proposal for a match between Angharad and his grandson. Not withstanding the
lack of suitors the girl's indiscretions have caused and the rise in the young
man's social position, there is also the general unrest that Niall is fomenting
about the throne. I still think that one of the sons of a House will be
installed as High King eventually, but there is no harm in ensuring that we
have many strong allies should Niall become difficult."

"Very wise,"
his mother approved. She was as aware as he of the precarious situation that
was developing within the Pentarchy.

"Have you told
Angharad what we are arranging for her?"

"No, I have not
divulged the contents of your letter to Angharad," she stated primly.
"I thought that you would want the pleasure of telling her
yourselves."

After a brief look of
disappointment, Branwilde nodded in concurrence. "Yes, after all that has
happened in the last few weeks, it will be well for her to see that we still
have her best interests at heart."