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This is a long excerpt. Any comments would be welcome.
Chapter 15
Nuptials
The wedding celebrations had gone as well as Ranald had expected. Cait looked ravishing in her marriage gowns, all a pristine and virginal white. It was a pity the girl lacked the wits or inclination to look demure and innocent, but by the look that Dolfin had given his bride it did not matter. For his part, Dolfin was the picture of manliness in his ceremonial golden hauberk with a long trailing cloak made from the finest silk. It glittered in the morning sun, the gold specks on the scarlet material catching the shifting light as he moved.
The ceremony itself had passed without a sour note, the bride and groom exchanging their vows solemnly. The Beuforts had turned up in force for the occasion, Ranald noted wryly to himself. Conrad Beufort looked very much like the cat that had got the cream, and he positively beamed at all and sundry. Even Richard del Calare was able to elicit a smile from the man. The wedding feast turned in to the most lavish in living memory. Ranald wanted to ensure that the Beufort family had no cause to complain.
The guests were treated to dozens of dishes from pigeon pie, to roast suckling of pig, to the finest venison from the King’s private deer park. Wines from the vineyards of Dalaria and Arna satisfied the most discerning of palates and at no small cost Ranald had imported the very best ale from Balzor, to distribute amongst the gathered commons, who celebrated the occasion in Nanter’s public parks.
Entertainment took the form of a host of fools attired in motley and they gambolled up and down the hall sending the seated guests in to raptures of laughter. Singers and troubadours appeared in endless succession, mountebanks from Carad thrilled the celebrants with their daring tricks and magic doers baffled them with their slight of hand. At the high table Ranald looked on benevolently and sipped his wine with constraint, his eyes busy making note of which nobleman was speaking to who and the length of their conversations. His pages, many of them spies and informants, darted between the tables bearing dishes and wine. They would make their full report to Del Calare on the morn and he in turn would brief the King as to the contends of certain lords conversations.
At one of the lower tables Lord Mengar, the King’s Treasurer, sat and fretted. The cost of day’s celebration was exorbitant and it went against the man’s grain to expend so much coin on such a triviality. But worse was the cost of the tomorrow’s tourney that the King had decreed to honour his son’s marriage.The King had provided ample purse for the winners of the various events from the archery contest which had no less than ten categories, which meant that the treasurer had to find the coin for every category. It was the jousting that brought the highest purse and over two hundred lords and knights had entered the lists. But not only had Ranald provided the prizes, he had declared that commons would have free refreshments for the duration of the tourney.
“Be of good cheer, my lord,” a noble at his side declared pressing a goblet of overly sweet Dalarian wine in to his hand. Mengar smiled weakly at the drunkard and sipped the wine almost gagging on its sweetness. It was at that stage of the feast when the majority of people were so inebriated that they would not notice the quality of the wine and Mengar had ordered the more vintage selections stored away and have the plonk served out with exception of the high table.
Conrad Beufort was on his feet and with upraised arm and a flushed face he called out for quiet.
“Your Majesty, I propose a toast to the happy couple and wish them joy on their nuptials,” he cried out to a chorus of, “Here, Here.” Continuing, Conrad swayed slightly on his feet drawing some raucous shouts from the hall.
“Furthermore, I propose a toast to the joining of our great houses. To the Beuforts and the Gulnarsons!” he shouted out to a pregnant silence. All eyes had turned to Ranald and his reaction. For a moment he sat there his good hand playing with the jewels on his chalice and then he rose looking at Conrad pointedly.
“To the Gulnarsons and the Beuforts,” he said raising his chalice. The hall erupted in cheers and oblivious to the warning implicit in Ranald’s tone Conrad joined in the toast. Grabbing him by the arm Conrad’s wife dragged him down, giving the king an apologetic smile, which Ranald returned with a nod of his head.
“The fool,” Dolfin muttered to Thrand, who was seated at his left, as was tradition for the man who stood as the groom’s best man.
“He is drunk,” Thrand replied, dismissing Beuforts words.
“Mayhap, but I believe my good father-in-law will need some watching. Will you look at Edland Beufort’s face? The man is furious, I do believe, if you can read anything in that visage,” Dolfin remarked.
“For the love of Zel man! will you cheer up and enjoy your day. It is not every day that a man gets to marry a beauty like Cait,” Thrand said, exasperated at his brother’s sullenness. Dolfin gave Thrand a sidelong look, his eyes hooded. Yes brother she is beautiful, and a whore to boot, thought Dolfin, and his mind moved forward to the forthcoming night and nuptials.
There was a part of Dolfin that was looking forward to it and the pain he would inflict upon his bride for the dishonor she had done him and at that moment Dolfin smiled as he gave full flight to his imagination.
“That’s better Dolfin, now you look like the happy groom instead of a condemned criminal,” Thrand said, seeing his brother’s smile.
“I hear you have entered the lists for tomorrow,” Dolfin said.
“Indeed I have. There are some good champions riding and I fancy a tilt at them. I will take a certain pleasure in unhorsing Edland Beufort,” Thrand replied.
“Have a care with him. He has being known to kill a man at the joust before,” Dolfin said, still looking at his uncle by marriage. Edland seemed to notice the Prince then, and he turned his dead eyes on him. The man raised his goblet to Dolfin and smiled bleakly. What is it with him? thought Dolfin. He is the most celebrated captain in the realm yet he does not bask in his own glory but treats all with disdain even his own brother.
There was one exception that Dolfin had noted though, and that was Cait. Edland doted on his niece and had named himself the bride’s champion for the tournament.
“It is time brother,” Thrand said rising to his feet and banging his fist against the table.
“The Bedding!” bellowed the Prince.
As Dolfin stood up Thrand whispered to him. “A needle and a little prick with to draw some blood to prove the virtue of your wife. Do not forget.”
Trust me Thrand there will be blood, thought Dolfin and laughing he allowed his honor guard of knights to lift him up and carry him to his bedchamber with loud and lewd catcalls.
Ranald watched on with relief and silently thanked the gods that the specter of Caric had not risen during the feasting and that all had the wit not to mention his name. As far as the court was concerned, the boy was in disgrace for misappropriating treasury funds however unlikely that sounded, but who would dare question the King. Estrith moved to Ranald’s side and clasped him by the arm.
“I will retire husband and await you shortly. I have never enjoyed this part of the celebrations,” she said.
“I will be along soon love,” he replied, happy that their relationship was returning to something akin to normality after the grief Estrith had suffered from the news of her father’s and brothers’ deaths in the north.
At the beginning she had blamed Ranald, firstly for abandoning Swegn and then for his inaction in avenging the slain king. But in time she had come to see the difficult position Ranald was in and her anger had lessened, although his bed had being a cold place for the past month. But tonight he heard a promise in his wife’s words and it gladdened his heart.
They were at the bridal bower now and the shouting had grown more lewd. Cait’s face was flushed whether from embarrassment or anticipation, Ranald could not tell. Edland hovered at her shoulder like some dark angel, glowering the whole time.
“Fear not Uncle for she shall come to no harm in my arms,” Dolfin called out to him as entered the bedchamber and with a wink at the revelers he closed the door.
The sudden silence in the room was only punctuated with the sound of Cait’s breathing as her chest heaved drawing Dolfin’s hungry eyes. They had hardly spoke through out the day and now Cait was unsure as she gazed upon her husband and the man she had cuckolded with Caric.
“Madam, take off your clothes,” Dolfin said coldly.
Chapter 15
Nuptials
The wedding celebrations had gone as well as Ranald had expected. Cait looked ravishing in her marriage gowns, all a pristine and virginal white. It was a pity the girl lacked the wits or inclination to look demure and innocent, but by the look that Dolfin had given his bride it did not matter. For his part, Dolfin was the picture of manliness in his ceremonial golden hauberk with a long trailing cloak made from the finest silk. It glittered in the morning sun, the gold specks on the scarlet material catching the shifting light as he moved.
The ceremony itself had passed without a sour note, the bride and groom exchanging their vows solemnly. The Beuforts had turned up in force for the occasion, Ranald noted wryly to himself. Conrad Beufort looked very much like the cat that had got the cream, and he positively beamed at all and sundry. Even Richard del Calare was able to elicit a smile from the man. The wedding feast turned in to the most lavish in living memory. Ranald wanted to ensure that the Beufort family had no cause to complain.
The guests were treated to dozens of dishes from pigeon pie, to roast suckling of pig, to the finest venison from the King’s private deer park. Wines from the vineyards of Dalaria and Arna satisfied the most discerning of palates and at no small cost Ranald had imported the very best ale from Balzor, to distribute amongst the gathered commons, who celebrated the occasion in Nanter’s public parks.
Entertainment took the form of a host of fools attired in motley and they gambolled up and down the hall sending the seated guests in to raptures of laughter. Singers and troubadours appeared in endless succession, mountebanks from Carad thrilled the celebrants with their daring tricks and magic doers baffled them with their slight of hand. At the high table Ranald looked on benevolently and sipped his wine with constraint, his eyes busy making note of which nobleman was speaking to who and the length of their conversations. His pages, many of them spies and informants, darted between the tables bearing dishes and wine. They would make their full report to Del Calare on the morn and he in turn would brief the King as to the contends of certain lords conversations.
At one of the lower tables Lord Mengar, the King’s Treasurer, sat and fretted. The cost of day’s celebration was exorbitant and it went against the man’s grain to expend so much coin on such a triviality. But worse was the cost of the tomorrow’s tourney that the King had decreed to honour his son’s marriage.The King had provided ample purse for the winners of the various events from the archery contest which had no less than ten categories, which meant that the treasurer had to find the coin for every category. It was the jousting that brought the highest purse and over two hundred lords and knights had entered the lists. But not only had Ranald provided the prizes, he had declared that commons would have free refreshments for the duration of the tourney.
“Be of good cheer, my lord,” a noble at his side declared pressing a goblet of overly sweet Dalarian wine in to his hand. Mengar smiled weakly at the drunkard and sipped the wine almost gagging on its sweetness. It was at that stage of the feast when the majority of people were so inebriated that they would not notice the quality of the wine and Mengar had ordered the more vintage selections stored away and have the plonk served out with exception of the high table.
Conrad Beufort was on his feet and with upraised arm and a flushed face he called out for quiet.
“Your Majesty, I propose a toast to the happy couple and wish them joy on their nuptials,” he cried out to a chorus of, “Here, Here.” Continuing, Conrad swayed slightly on his feet drawing some raucous shouts from the hall.
“Furthermore, I propose a toast to the joining of our great houses. To the Beuforts and the Gulnarsons!” he shouted out to a pregnant silence. All eyes had turned to Ranald and his reaction. For a moment he sat there his good hand playing with the jewels on his chalice and then he rose looking at Conrad pointedly.
“To the Gulnarsons and the Beuforts,” he said raising his chalice. The hall erupted in cheers and oblivious to the warning implicit in Ranald’s tone Conrad joined in the toast. Grabbing him by the arm Conrad’s wife dragged him down, giving the king an apologetic smile, which Ranald returned with a nod of his head.
“The fool,” Dolfin muttered to Thrand, who was seated at his left, as was tradition for the man who stood as the groom’s best man.
“He is drunk,” Thrand replied, dismissing Beuforts words.
“Mayhap, but I believe my good father-in-law will need some watching. Will you look at Edland Beufort’s face? The man is furious, I do believe, if you can read anything in that visage,” Dolfin remarked.
“For the love of Zel man! will you cheer up and enjoy your day. It is not every day that a man gets to marry a beauty like Cait,” Thrand said, exasperated at his brother’s sullenness. Dolfin gave Thrand a sidelong look, his eyes hooded. Yes brother she is beautiful, and a whore to boot, thought Dolfin, and his mind moved forward to the forthcoming night and nuptials.
There was a part of Dolfin that was looking forward to it and the pain he would inflict upon his bride for the dishonor she had done him and at that moment Dolfin smiled as he gave full flight to his imagination.
“That’s better Dolfin, now you look like the happy groom instead of a condemned criminal,” Thrand said, seeing his brother’s smile.
“I hear you have entered the lists for tomorrow,” Dolfin said.
“Indeed I have. There are some good champions riding and I fancy a tilt at them. I will take a certain pleasure in unhorsing Edland Beufort,” Thrand replied.
“Have a care with him. He has being known to kill a man at the joust before,” Dolfin said, still looking at his uncle by marriage. Edland seemed to notice the Prince then, and he turned his dead eyes on him. The man raised his goblet to Dolfin and smiled bleakly. What is it with him? thought Dolfin. He is the most celebrated captain in the realm yet he does not bask in his own glory but treats all with disdain even his own brother.
There was one exception that Dolfin had noted though, and that was Cait. Edland doted on his niece and had named himself the bride’s champion for the tournament.
“It is time brother,” Thrand said rising to his feet and banging his fist against the table.
“The Bedding!” bellowed the Prince.
As Dolfin stood up Thrand whispered to him. “A needle and a little prick with to draw some blood to prove the virtue of your wife. Do not forget.”
Trust me Thrand there will be blood, thought Dolfin and laughing he allowed his honor guard of knights to lift him up and carry him to his bedchamber with loud and lewd catcalls.
Ranald watched on with relief and silently thanked the gods that the specter of Caric had not risen during the feasting and that all had the wit not to mention his name. As far as the court was concerned, the boy was in disgrace for misappropriating treasury funds however unlikely that sounded, but who would dare question the King. Estrith moved to Ranald’s side and clasped him by the arm.
“I will retire husband and await you shortly. I have never enjoyed this part of the celebrations,” she said.
“I will be along soon love,” he replied, happy that their relationship was returning to something akin to normality after the grief Estrith had suffered from the news of her father’s and brothers’ deaths in the north.
At the beginning she had blamed Ranald, firstly for abandoning Swegn and then for his inaction in avenging the slain king. But in time she had come to see the difficult position Ranald was in and her anger had lessened, although his bed had being a cold place for the past month. But tonight he heard a promise in his wife’s words and it gladdened his heart.
They were at the bridal bower now and the shouting had grown more lewd. Cait’s face was flushed whether from embarrassment or anticipation, Ranald could not tell. Edland hovered at her shoulder like some dark angel, glowering the whole time.
“Fear not Uncle for she shall come to no harm in my arms,” Dolfin called out to him as entered the bedchamber and with a wink at the revelers he closed the door.
The sudden silence in the room was only punctuated with the sound of Cait’s breathing as her chest heaved drawing Dolfin’s hungry eyes. They had hardly spoke through out the day and now Cait was unsure as she gazed upon her husband and the man she had cuckolded with Caric.
“Madam, take off your clothes,” Dolfin said coldly.
) and I love reading anything you put up here. Now I want to know....what happens in the bridal chamber!!!
