The Duke's Pawn

Chapter 10: A Wicked Feast

Alienor's lips were frozen into a smile as she watched the acrobats bounce around the room. Isobel had pulled her hair too tight and she could feel the start of a raging headache.

The earlier wedding ceremony had taken place just past the entrance doors of the church, with the Duke assuming the role of her father and giving her to her husband. Then she had had to endure a lengthy mass, most of it spent kneeling in front of the altar. The cushion that was provided wasn't quite thick enough to erase the cold hardness of the flagstones, as her sore joints could testify. Her dress had threatened to smother her, and she had to seek help from a maid to loosen the ties a little.

Would this banquet ever end? They had been sitting through five courses, with just as many to come.

Despite having barely nibbled at her food, Alienor wasn't hungry. Her stomach twisted into knots every time she heard the loud bellow of the Duke. She blessed the etiquette that gave the obnoxious royal the place of honor, at her husband's right. She was on his left, with the priest who had officiated earlier as her closest neighbor. The old man was half death and didn't have much of a conversation, talking mainly to his trencher. Something that, considering the size of his gut, was most probably a favorite occupation of his.

Alienor's thoughts wandered to the gifts they had received. From Richard, she got the traditional gold and silver and her new wedding band, wider than the first and engraved with both their names. It shone brightly in the light, and she openly admired it, turning her right hand this and that way.

"Do you like it?" Richard said close to her ear, the only way for him to be heard without yelling in the noisy room.

"I love it, my Lord," she answered, and felt his hand squeeze her thigh in response.

The Duke screamed for her husband's attention, quite literally, and Richard as a good host gave it to him, but his hand remained put. Alienor felt strangely comforted by the gesture. He understood her discomfort, and was letting her know he shared it. Be patient, it told her. Patience was not Alienor's strongest suit, but she had to endure. Another couple of hours, and then she could retire.

She caught back on her train of thought, and fiddled with the jeweled brooch her husband had offered her as they came back from the church. It made the gold embroidered scabbard she gave him pale in comparison. Then the Duke had presented her with a pair of sleeves of gold brocade and pearls for her dress, on behalf of the King and Queen, and a set of Venetian glass goblets from himself. It was nothing more than a diplomatic move by both brothers, meant to flatter Duke Charles through her, but she had received both offerings with her best display of awe and respect. She didn't have to try too hard, the presents were indeed royal.

A glance towards the Duke told her he was having yet another cup of wine. It was at least his tenth, and the effect was beginning to show, although not as much as could have been expected. The man was clearly accustomed to downing large amounts of liquor.

Alienor quickly looked away, unwilling to attract his interest. She had had plenty of it earlier, and did not found it pleasant. Still, she rose when he proposed another toast to the King's health, which she somehow doubted he wished good. It was all a game of mirrors, saying one thing when they meant another, in the hope that their words would be repeated and taken at face value. This was the small world of court politics, her world now, and she wasn't sure she liked it.

Richard apologized and left, likely to visit the latrines. He had limited himself to small ale, just as she did, but had far more of it. Alienor was certain he wasn't drunk; his goblet of wine sat half-full and had not been refilled. She was glad of it. She felt safer knowing he would be sober on her wedding night.

"Why did you not get married in your hair, Lady Fenton? Does it mean you are not as pure as you look? Will there be any proof of the consummation tomorrow, I wonder?" The Duke's voice was thunderous, and most of the conversations in the room stopped instantly.

Alienor's cheeks flamed bright red, and her fists clenched on the fabric of her dress. She forced herself to breathe, eyes locked on a stain on the tablecloth. Richard's body had acted as a buffer before, sheltering her from the Duke's sight, and now he was targeting her with all the petulance of a drunkard.

When she raised her gaze, she directed it at their audience, ignoring him. "I was married by proxy a few weeks ago, your Grace, therefore it didn't seem right to wear my hair free like a maiden. I, however, can guarantee you that the marriage has not been consummated."

Clarence's guffaw grated her nerves. "Is that so? I was told that you shared a bed with your husband while traveling..."

Alienor was on the verge of jumping on the man and clawing his eyes out. She bit the inside of her lip to keep a hold of her tongue. "It was solely for commodity, your Grace. I am certain that you've had to share a bed before, on your travels..." She managed to sound innocent enough, yet she was quite sure the guests wouldn't miss the allusion to the Duke's trips with Warwick, in his attempts to dethrone his brother. The ensuing murmur proved her right.

It was Clarence's turn to flush. "Well, of course you were safe, my Lady. Don't you know that you married a bloody bugger? Your virtue was never at risk. Your arse though..."

Alienor was voiceless. This was going too far, but short of stabbing him with her table knife, there was no good answer to that. Whatever she said would just bring more water to his mill. She glanced around, taking note the shocked faces of those either unaware of the rumors or giving them no credit. These might be on her side. The smug ones, though, had to belong to Richard's enemies. She did her best to engrave them in her memory.

Then she became conscious of the stillness of the room. She twisted around, and there was Richard, standing behind them. She wondered how much he had heard. Surely he must be furious after such a public insult. His jaw was clenched, his body tense. She waited with bated breath, hoping he wouldn't resolve to violence. He couldn't possibly fight all the Duke's men.

And then, the unexpected happened. Richard roared with laughter. There was audible relief in the room, while he reclaimed his seat on the dais. "Your Grace has such an amazing acting talent! If I didn't know it was a joke, I would have believed you were insulting me, on my wedding feast! Look at my wife and all these people, you really fooled them. Congratulations, your Grace. A toast to the Duke of Clarence!"

Alienor raised her glass with the others, and the Duke smiled in triumph. "Of course, it was just a bit of harmless fun. These are all silly tales, and to prove them wrong, I hereby announce that I, George, Duke of Clarence, and all my Lords, will bear witness to your prowess in the marital bed tonight."

Richard nearly spat his wine. "I am flattered, your Grace, but surely there is no need..."

Clarence grinned. "It was, in fact, my brother's idea. I hope you don't mind performing for an audience, Lord Fenton. It would be a pity if you couldn't fulfill your marital duties. The King would be quite disappointed. He insisted that you would leave the curtains open so that there would be no doubt that you are, indeed, able to satisfy a woman."

Alienor paled. The idea of being exposed to the leering eyes of the Duke and his minions was sickening. "Will I not be allowed any privacy, your Grace? I am a maiden and accustomed to modesty..."

"The Queen herself has to go through this on her wedding night, Lady Fenton. Do you deem yourself more virtuous than a Queen?"

It wasn't completely true. The bed's curtains were drawn during the Queen's wedding night, the assistance couldn't see her. But there was no point arguing. The Duke said it was the King's will, which left only one possible answer. "Of course not, your Grace. I will do as the King's command."

Under the cover of the tablecloth, Richard took her hand. He held it tight and she squeezed it in return. She would need his support to go through this, and she prayed that he wouldn't fail, or the consequences would be dire.