Joanna (46 page)

The morning was not nearly as bad as Joanna feared, however. For one thing, the ladies were much better humored than usual, given over as they were to the intense pleasure of dressing in their best. For another, Joanna was cheered by the obvious pleasure that her mother and Lady Ela showed in the event. If Geoffrey had taken ill the information Lady Ela was supposed to have given him, surely Lady Ela would not be so easy. Geoffrey’s wedding gift also aroused hope. A cascade of shimmering gray water spilled from the box he sent when it was opened. Moonstones! He must have spent the whole year collecting them, Joanna thought, for the stone was not common. Most people preferred the brilliant colors of emerald, ruby, or sapphire. But moonstones were the color of Joanna’s eyes and   they became her excellently well. Joanna looked at the beautifully set necklace, armlets, and bands to hold the wimple, and a faint smile touched her lips. Her jewels would not be duplicated by anyone. Here must be every moonstone in England, and perhaps in all Europe.

The king could not attend the wedding because he was excommunicate, and his presence would have invalidated the ceremony. Peter des Roches, bishop of Winchester, performed it, and it was fortunate that he was a strong man with a good voice. No frail prelate could have bellowed the service loud enough to be heard by the huge crowd of courtiers that pressed into the church porch, spilled down the steps, and flowed out over the square. God knows, Joanna thought, with a little flicker of her normal, easily roused sense of humor, this wedding, which may be repudiated tomorrow, is doubtless the best-witnessed marriage that has ever taken place.

Geoffrey caught the little smile and his heart leapt. Perhaps she is glad, he thought, or, at least, only doubtful. Perhaps her sadness has only been born of the filth we are drowned in and her fear of what will befall us all. Perhaps it is only a maid’s unwillingness to change her state. No one could have a more indulgent father than Ian or a happier home than that provided by Lady Alinor. It cannot be easy to leave that, to trust herself to a stranger.

They were all shivering by the time the bishop finished the benediction and told Geoffrey to kiss his wife. He would have liked really to kiss her and see what response he would obtain, but he feared both Joanna’s reaction and that of the watching crowd. Better to cling to his hope rather than put it to the proof here where it might become a standing jest against him in the future. Geoffrey barely touched Joanna’s lips, and she accepted the kiss as placidly as he appeared to give it. The cold touch again sank poor Joanna’s heart, which had been beating harder with hope when Geoffrey took her hand. She would not weep! She would not!

The resolution held even when her mother clutched her tight, whispering, “Child, child, you will always be my   child.” Joanna had no time to read fearful implications into that simple cry of love because Lady Ela seized upon her. She was sobbing, her pretty fair face blotched with tears and her eyes reddened. “Be good to him,” she cried softly. “As you are a little my daughter, Joanna, make up to him the ill I have done him.”

It was Ian who broke her determined calm, for he too was weeping. He said nothing, only held Joanna tight to him, as he had held her so many times when she was a little girl and had fled to him for solace from some grief or punishment. She clung to him, who had so ably replaced her father, and burst into a storm of tears. “Do not weep, love,” Ian soothed. “He is a good man, and I love him, but there is nothing for you to fear. If he hurts youI will kill him!”

That checked Joanna’s tears as swiftly as they had come. “No, no,” she whispered, terrified, already seeing her husband dead by her stepfather’s mighty hand because she knew Geoffrey would never defend himself against Ian. “My God, do not lay that burden of fear upon me. Whatever is between Geoffrey and me, he loves you and you love him”

Before she could finish, Alinor pulled Ian away with some force, hissing, “You idiot! Do you not see she is overset already? Do you want more scandal? With a little more ‘kindness’ she will be screaming for release from a marriage she greatly desires. I tell you she loves him and he her. Let them only be alone and away from this madhouse, and all will be well.”

There were others, many others, who proffered good wishes, some sincerely and some with ill-concealed hopes that were contrary to their words. Both groups could see signs that their expectations for the marriage would be fulfilled. Bride and groom were both abstracted, and both stole quick glances at the other when they thought it would not be noticed. Those who wished it so read eagerness and love into what they saw. Those who wished ill to the pair, saw fear and suspicion in the behavior. And both groups were at least a little right in their reading of the signs.   The one good thing about the turmoil in Joanna’s mind was that the disconcerting fact that John would be her next neighbor and table companion did not dawn upon her until Geoffrey led her to her seat and pulled out the bench so she could slip in beside the king’s chair. Joanna bent her knees in automatic curtsy and dropped her eyes modestly to the floor. This day, she was now sure, was accursed. On one side was John, whom she feared and disliked, on the other side Geoffrey, whom at this moment she feared almost more than his uncle. She had not a word to say to either one upon any subject and in any case she could neither speak nor eat because her throat was shut tight with nervousness.

“Hey, Jo, look at me!” It was a merry whisper just behind.

“Adam,” Joanna breathed, feeling that salvation had come to her.

“Ain’t I grand?” Adam teased, in the coarsest vernacular, preening himself with deliberate vulgarity. Then he hit his sister an encouraging blow on the back that nearly knocked her flat on the table, exclaiming, “Lucky girl!”

“Adam!” Joanna protested, clutching at the nearest available support, which happened to be Geoffrey.

“Gendy,” Geoffrey whispered, “that is my property you are mauling about.”

“Sorry,” Adam offered contritely. “I forget I keep growing up and you stay little. I only seem to remember that you could belt me across the room once.” He dismissed that past with a careless wave of the hand and reverted to his present proud moment. “Am I ever glad you decided on a court wedding! It got me a whole chestful of new clothes andlook at meserving the high table at a royal castle.”

“You will not be doing so for long if you do not shut up and serve instead of talking,” Geoffrey hissed, half laughing nonetheless.

A warm, rich chortle came from Joanna’s left. She and Geoffrey froze, but Adam bowed deeply and gracefully and grinned irrepressibly.

“Your brother is a fine figure of a man, and not much   overawed by royalty,” John said to Joanna.

The eyes that Joanna had until now kept lowered were suddenly raised to the king’s. They glittered with a pale, hard light. The full lips were thinned, the fine nostrils flared. No wild vixen could have looked fiercer in the defense of her cubs. Inadvertently, the king drew a sharp breath. He had just seen again the face of Simon Lemagne as he had seen it so often before battle. But Joanna had already realized that she had prepared to defend Adam without cause. There had been no sly threat in John’s comment, nor was there anything but good humor and then, for a moment, surprise on his face. Her expression softened. Little as she had been aware of anything beyond her own troubles, still she had heard many, even Ian, praising the king’s change of heart and manner. Good terms coupled with wariness were always better than open enmity.

“Oh, my lord,” she said softly, “I think he is possessed of devils. If there is mischief afoot, you may be sure that he is either in it orand more specially if he be apart from it and with a most innocent expressionthat he began it.”

She then told an anecdote or two about Adam as a little boy. She blessed her brother’s intervention from the bottom of her heart, finding herself able to talk lightly and easily to the king. She heard Adam make a remark to Geoffrey that she could not quite catch and heard Geoffrey agree but say that he had better bear himself more seemly. The king had taken as a jest what was meant as a jest. Nonetheless, to continue acting the fool would be disrespectful to John, who had been kind, and force the king either to be severe, which he did not wish to be, or to look a fool himself. There was so much good sense in what Geoffrey said and so much kindness in the way he said it that Joanna began to wonder whether she was building into Geoffrey monstrous intentions that were foreign to his nature.

It was fortunate that Joanna had brought a little inner calm to herself, for she was to share her conversation with John and Geoffrey for nearly six hours. Isabella’s servants had done her proud. The feast was of four courses, with ten   dishes in each course. First came a jellied dish of minnows, followed by a baked salmon belly. Stewed eels were next and then a dish of boiled porpoise with peas. Sweet followed spicy in the form of a herring rolled and baked in dark sugar, which was accompanied by a relish of greens. When the palate had been refreshed by this change of pace, broiled pike, roast lamprey, roast sole, and roast porpoise were presented. The course was completed by a magnificent subtlety, a towering sculpture of cake and jelly, representing a young maid and young man, handfast.

The musicians had, of course, been playing throughout the meal, but when the subtlety was set upon the high table, and lesser sweets upon the other tables in order of their importance, they struck up a livelier measure. Well aware of his duty, Geoffrey stepped over the bench, assisted Joanna to rise, and led her to the clear space on the floor. A column of willing dancers followed swiftly and for the next half hour they worked off the intake of food and wine with lively exercise. By the time they were blown and panting, the servingmen were waiting impatiently at the doors. Laughing and chattering, the dancers returned to their places. Joanna’s eyes were alight with pleasure and Geoffrey’s hair was curling a little on his damp forehead.

Now the tumblers came on to the floor to entertain. They were quick, the jesters lewd and rude. Joanna had almost forgotten by now that this was
her
wedding and that the pleasant young man on one side of her was her husband and the heavy man on the other the king. She was animated and merry, her eyes glowing as softly lucent as the great moonstones that decked her bosom, arms, and wimple. No matter how wonderful the feat performed by the entertainers, Geoffrey’s eyes often strayed from them to his prize. The king’s eyes did not do so, but his thoughts were not really much different. He regretted that he could not sup from Joanna’s cup right after her husband had filled it. He had seen old Sir Simon in her and knew that fear would not shut her mouth. Nonetheless, all the smoke that beclouded her virtue had to come from some fire. Let him only hold his   land until he could cozen the pope to support him, John thought. Then he would buy hersuch women were always for saleright under his brother’s nose.

There was time for a short dance to stretch the legs before the next dinner course was brought forward. John led Joanna to the floor this time, Geoffrey, as required, squiring Isabella. Joanna was much surprised at how light John was on his feet and spoke of it, and the king was flattered and assured of his eventual satisfaction. There would be no need to force this one he thought, a little regretfully. There would have been much joy in taming the vixen. Geoffrey was less pleased by his partner even though she was a most graceful dancer and said nothing that could offend him. In fact, she was so pleasant that Geoffrey grew a little cold inside. How he hated Isabella!

Although it was still daylight outside, the light was failing in the hall where the windows were covered by scraped hides. Torches were carried in and the great candelabras that hung from the rafters were lowered so that their candles could be lit. As those servingmen scurried out, the third course began to arrive. This was the game course and boar and venison followed each other in a profusion of sauces and methods of preparation. Everyone was eating a little more slowly now.

The second dance with Geoffrey was more dignified and slower paced than the first. It was the custom to have the slow dance measures after the third course because by then a good many of the dancers were not only stuffed with food but slightly drunk as well.

During the serving of the fourth coursesweetsthere was an eruption of loud, angry voices that rose even above the deafening noise produced by several hundred people eating, drinking, and talking. The king, who had been greedily examining a dish of comfits to choose out the largest and sweetest, threw up his head. To her right, Joanna could feel Geoffrey freeze, an apple halfway to his mouth. Ian and Salisbury were already half across the benches, but the bawling died down as those more sober enforced peace   upon their drunken companions. An ever-present danger of any large feast was that men, made too truthful by wine, would speak their minds too plainly and come to knives or swords. What was odd was not the outbreak of brawling but the rapidity with which it was silenced.

With a chill that brought back all her anxieties, Joanna noticed that surprisingly few of the men were drunk. Certainly John, Ian, Salisbury, and Geoffrey, who all enjoyed a good pull at the wineskin on suitable occasions, were stone-cold sober. Obviously, Geoffrey might have a personal reason not to drink; he did not wish to be incapable of performing his marital duty. A deeper cold washed over Joanna and she thrust that from her mind. But the fact that the others were not allowing themselves to celebrate as they normally would was a bad sign, a very bad sign. Clearly, very few of the guests dared get into a condition in which their tongues might run away with them.

Joanna’s eyes ran up and down the table and her fears were confirmed by what she saw on her mother’s and Lady Ela’s faces. They were characteristically different, of course. Lady Alinor looked wary and dangerous, her hazel eyes bright, her body tense with impatience. Joanna almost smiled. Her mother could never bear to wait for trouble. These days she was, perhaps, less eager to stir it up, but if she knew trouble was inevitable, she wished to face it at once. Lady Ela looked near to weeping with anxiety. Her hands clutched the table to hide their shaking, but she talked whiningly and continuously of how dreadful it was to be married, how harsh and inconsiderate husbands were, and did much to distract everyone’s mind from real fears. For all her trembling and weeping, Ela would be a staunch support to her husband, and she would go down with him with no regret except that she could not save him.