Joust of Hearts Page 10

  Chapter Eleven

  Melisande’s newly gained elation reached a fevered peak moments before she and Helena were announced as she saw Lord Bergavny at King Henry’s right, their heads together in conversation. As she and Helena approached the dais, the King and Lord Bergavny stood. He must have held the Bergavnys in high regard for His Majesty to have done so.

  “Your Majesty, may I once again present my wife, the Lady Helena Bergavny.”

  “Your Most Royal Majesty.” Helena bowed her head and executed a flawless curtsy that nearly left her prostrate on the ground.

  “Pray recover, Lady Helena. It seems like only yesterday when you and Lord Bergavny were at the festival of All Souls we held here at Windsor,” the King said, reaching for her hand.

  “A wonderful time was had by both Lord Bergavny and myself at the festival, Your Majesty,” Helena replied sweetly as her fingers slipped into his palm.

  “And may we say you look lovely as usual,” he said in earnest.

  “I thank you, Your Highness, for the generosity of your compliment. Now may I present to you the Lady Melisande Dupree, a most talented young woman and a dear friend.” Helena stepped aside and indicated Melisande.

  Melisande emulated the curtsy Helena had moments ago offered the King. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Your Most Royal Majesty.”

  “Recover and come here, my child.”

  Melisande stepped forward and stood within arm’s reach of him. She felt an odd surge of pride to be so close to the King and kept her gaze reverently diverted from his.

  “Lord Bergavny has told us that you are widow to Sir Liam Dupree. He was one of the finest knights we’ve ever had the honor of fighting by our side.” The King paused. “Forgive us, Lady Dupree, for that was a long time ago. How have you been faring?”

  Melisande knew King Henry was a peace-loving man. She admired the fact that he’d taken a bride of his family’s enemy in order to end the civil wars that had been continuous for over thirty years. “I have been very well, Your Highness. The Lord and Lady Bergavny have helped me through my grief a tremendous amount of late.”

  “Good, good,” the King replied genuinely. “Now, my dear, we are very much in the mood for a fresh musician to play for the court this eve following our repast. We oft grow tired of the selections that make up the litany of our royal musicians.” He chuckled. “Mayhaps you will teach them some recent pieces to play for us.”

  “I will do so to the best of my abilities. I am your humble servant.” Melisande curtsied again.

  “Excellent. Now, let us sup together at our table.”

  Elizabeth Stuart of York, now Queen Elizabeth Tudor since her marriage to the King, joined them at the high table. Melisande was then presented to her and found her most gracious.

  Along with the Queen was a relative of hers by the name of Corin Sinclair.

  Upon her introduction to Corin, he took Melisande by the hand and brushed his lips just below her knuckles, at the juncture where her fingers met. “M’lady, if you are half as talented as you are beautiful, we are in for quite a treat.”

  Melisande’s cheeks heated and she felt a strange fluttering of her insides at the handsome visage before her. “Gramercy.” She hoped she didn’t sound like the village idiot. She couldn’t think of a single phrase witty enough with which to rejoin him.

  Corin was tall and solidly built, one could tell by the cut of his richly embroidered tunic, for he had wide shoulders and a broad chest that tapered to slim hips. The warm color of his eyes resembled a rich, creamy brown that could melt a woman’s heart at twenty paces. He had smooth, glowing skin that would certainly make the most beautiful femmes à la cour jealous. His smile revealed straight teeth that were as white as virgin snow. His hair was just a tad darker than Devin’s… And almost as long, she mused, finding herself comparing the two men. Nearly in the same instant, she chastised herself. Melisande, stop dwelling on things that cannot be. Then again, how could it have been her fault? ’Tis the Black Knave who invades my thoughts, and at the most inopportune moments. Melisande painfully pushed Devin to the back of her mind and smiled up at Corin Sinclair who, for some reason, still held her hand.

  “Your eyes hold such immense expression, my lady,” he commented as he helped her to her seat.

  Apparently, his courtly manners dictated that he not comment directly on what had surely shown on her face. Perhaps someday she would learn to mask her thoughts so as not to be so transparent.

  Melisande enjoyed cheerful conversation with Corin and the other courtiers over an eight-course meal—which was by far more food than Melisande had ever seen in her life at one table.

  Not long after the grand sustenance had settled in her stomach, the servants cleared away the tables for the evening’s entertainment. King Henry called for his musicians to begin playing in the minstrels’ gallery.

  The royal musicians performed a few pieces from their repertoire by rote, while three jugglers delighted the crowd with their skills. Balls, silver plates and all manner of objects were tossed high into the air and passed back and forth between the brightly clad men. Even when whetted swords were flung to and fro before the gathering, the men seemed heedless of the danger. As the whirling blades finally came to a rest in the deft hands of the three performers, Melisande expelled the breath she’d held, waiting for blood to be spilled all over the King’s floor.

  When the applause dwindled to a minimum, the King turned to Melisande. “Lady Dupree, if you would take your place amongst our musicians, you may begin for us the demonstration of your aptitude.”

  Melisande crossed before the King and curtsied. She continued on to the stairs of the gallery and took the stool at the clavichord, bidding the musicians to listen then join in.

  She began the piece, and as the lovely music filled the room, she saw that the King was pleased, for his eyes were closed and upon his face he wore a grin. The musicians around her nodded to the rhythm and slowly, one by one, added harmonies that complemented the melody.

  At one point she observed Corin Sinclair speaking with Helena. Melisande made note to ask Helena what he’d said to her.

  When the music ended, Melisande made her way down the stairs of the loft. She curtsied to King Henry and his queen, Corin and Lord and Lady Bergavny. Henry stood and descended the few steps to stand before Melisande.

  Taking her hands and speaking personally with her, not in his royal plural, he stated, “That was lovely, my dear. The familiarity of it puzzles me, for I must have heard that piece in my dreams.”

  ’Twas common enough. However, she felt she must proceed with caution. Any sort of instruction may offend the King and make her look as if she were being defiant to his majesty. This was indeed the last thing she wanted to do. Her gaze remained diverted from his, and she spoke as gently as possible “’Tis a standard piece oft taught to budding musicians, and it is said to be popular amongst bards throughout Europe. I am most certain you have heard the tune at one time or another, though possibly presented in a different way.”

  “But how? When?”

  “I assume you have had a fair share of singing troupes to entertain you at court?”

  “Of course,” the King replied. He reached out and tipped her chin up.

  She met his gaze with as much bravery as she could muster. “’Twas but an Italian madrigal set with music instead of voice.”

  The King thought for a moment, and the grin that registered on his face caused his eyes to shine with joy. “I remember a group of singers that came not long ago. They did in fact speak and sing in Italian, and, if I recall correctly, they sang that very song without any instruments.”

  “Precisely. A madrigal is a song without instrument save for vocal intonations,” Melisande gently instructed.

  The King looked into her eyes and spoke aloud, “Most astonishing, Lady Dupree. The King is indeed diverted.”

  Melisande’s very being heated at the compliment. “Not just I, ’twas your royal mus
icians who remembered the piece as well.”

  King Henry straightened and in a proud voice proclaimed, “Your grace and humility greatly please this court.” A burst of applause rang out and Henry bent down to whisper in Melisande’s ear, “You are a breath of spring air, Lady Dupree.”

  A dainty laugh escaped from between Melisande’s smiling lips and she kissed the King soundly on his cheek. “I thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Henry returned to his chair, his face ruddy from the exchange.

  Queen Elizabeth patted his hand. “The granddaughter you would like to have someday?”

  “Most definitely.” Then he turned back to Melisande. “Go, sweet lady, refresh thyself and join us directly.”

  “Aye, Your Majesty.” She curtsied low to the King and Queen then made her way across the room and out of the door to the royal gardens.

  Henry motioned for his musicians to begin playing again, and Corin positioned himself between the King and his cousin, Queen Elizabeth.

  “I am of the thought that Lady Dupree is most talented,” Corin commented so that only Henry and Elizabeth could hear.

  “Quite,” Elizabeth agreed.

  “Aye,” Henry replied. “We would be indeed fortunate to have a lovely and skilled musician such as Lady Dupree in our midst.”

  “Exceedingly fortunate, your Majesty.” Corin agreed and continued. “Lady Dupree is a widow, is that not correct?” He enquired, already knowing the answer from his conversation with Lady Bergavny.

  Elizabeth leaned forward to look beyond Corin to her husband, cocking an eyebrow at the King.

  Corin observed the reaction, then watched as Henry raised both his brows in silent communication to his wife. “When we granted Castle Dupree to Sir Liam, we were well aware that it was well positioned and possessed fertile fields.”

  Suppressing a chuckle, Corin mused, Aye. Both Dupree’s fields and their lady are fertile.

  Elizabeth addressed Corin. “What is it you are hinting at, my dear cousin?”

  Corin merely smiled and returned to a more comfortable seated position. What a boon to have the lady of Castle Dupree right here in our midst. Almost effortlessly, my plans are moving forward.

  Melisande reappeared and sat next to Lady Bergavny. Helena patted her on the knee to indicate that she was pleased with Melisande’s playing. Melisande placed her hand atop her elder’s and gave it a gentle squeeze, silently thanking Helena.

  “I saw you in a private moment with Corin during the entertainment. Of what did you speak?” Melisande whispered to Helena.

  Helena shrugged. “I hardly remember. ’Twas nothing of note.”

  Puzzled at Helena’s nonchalance, Melisande settled back against her cushioned chair. Surely Helena had no reason to dislike Corin Sinclair.

  She sat quietly and listened to the blend of music and murmurings of the people as they conversed, when, after a time, Corin approached her, bending at the waist as he addressed her.

  “I wanted to tell you personally how very much I enjoyed your playing earlier,” he expressed to her as if in confidence, his lips nearly making contact with her cheek.

  Melisande couldn’t help but smile and, wanting to know more about this exquisite male, turned to look him boldly in the eyes. “I thank you, Sir Sinclair,” she stated, hoping the title of ‘sir’ did not accompany his name.

  He responded with a deep chuckle as he stood up straight. “Alas, I will never have the honor of being knighted. I am afraid I am too comfortable with the life of leisure I lead here with my cousin at court.”

  Melisande was relieved and slightly embarrassed by her misjudgment. She tried to recover her blunder. “Forgive me, Mr. Sinclair, you…have the build of a knight—I mean, you have a look about you— What I am trying to say is—”

  He obviously enjoyed the flattery she was spilling all over him, for this time it shone on his face.

  At long last, he tactfully ended her sputtering. “I want you to call me Corin,” he said with a sincere smile then continued, “Now it is my turn to thank you by offering one so lovely as yourself some wine.” He reached out and softly stroked the back of her hand with his fingers, as if he sensed her flustered emotions and wished to soothe them.

  Grateful that this fine young man had so gently defused the foolish scene she was making, she permitted him to fetch for her a goblet of the King’s malmsey. “Again, thank you, Corin.” She was now of the opinion that Corin was most thoughtful, and took blissful pleasure in the attention he was giving her.

  Corin found a servant carrying a tray of goblets with jewels encrusted around their circumference, and bade that the cups be filled to the rim. He observed the King’s court jesters preparing to go on for the guests this eve. Corin got their attention and motioned for them to come to him. “Where is your third man?”

  “We dismissed him, my lord,” the performer called Shelby confided. “He was so bad at jollity that he added tragedy to our comedy,” he said gravely then grinned at his own jest.

  Corin made to enquire further—however, thought the wiser of it. “I want you and Bean”—he indicated Shelby’s partner—“to do the magic rope trick that I saw you rehearsing yesterday, and I want Lady Dupree, the young woman in the burgundy robes who sits on the dais with the other honored guests, and myself as victims—I mean, volunteers,” he amended. Tossing them each a coin, he then added, “And not a word about this to anyone.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Corin rejoined the group at the dais, stood next to Melisande’s chair, and handed her a richly embellished goblet filled with wine. “Lady Melisande, you shall not find a sweeter potion in all England.” Then he added in a lowered voice so that only Melisande could hear, “But I believe I have found a lady who is even more agreeable than the taste.”

  Melisande thought her cheeks would never lose the heat they had acquired this eve. “Corin, you are being—”

  “Too forward? Pray forgive me,” he murmured, leaning in closer still.

  “Nay. I wished to say ‘too kind’.” She admired his beautiful face. However, her gaze lingered a moment too long. Now she was being forward. The second a man pleasing to look upon gives me a compliment, I melt like beeswax long-exposed to the elements on a bright summer’s day.

  Melisande’s thoughts were distracted by the entrance of King Henry’s court jesters. Corin promptly retreated to take a seat, much to her disappointment.

  “Gather round one and all, for what we have to show you will confuse your mind and tease your eyes! I am Shelby and this is my assistant, Bean.” Each of the colorfully dressed men took a bow. “Bean and I were in a village near the sea the other day, and do you know what we saw?” A few of the people in the audience shook their heads, but Bean nodded.

  Shelby looked at Bean and, rather annoyed, stated, “I know you know. You were there.”

  Bean merely shrugged.

  It was obvious to Melisande by the dull look in Bean’s eyes that he was not a very bright fellow.

  Shelby continued, “We saw a man on the ground kneeling and bowing toward the east. The shocking part came when he sat up, for we could tell that he was obviously not one of King Henry’s subjects.”

  Bean snapped out of the daze he seemed to be in and yelled, “A spy! A spy!” and proceeded to run around frantically in a small circle. His voice was wobbly and high-pitched and it made Melisande giggle.

  Shelby calmly removed his hat and with it gave Bean a swat on the arm to settle him down. “He was not a spy, you ignorant fool,” Shelby said, replacing his hat.

  “Oh, pardon,” Bean said, coming to stand once again next to Shelby.

  “Now where was I?” He shot his partner another stern look and continued. “When he came out of his trance, he stood and looked right at us.”

  “For sooth, right at us,” Bean encouraged.

  With a vexed look on his face, Shelby turned his head slowly to face Bean. “I am telling the tale, imbecile.”

  “Pardon,” Bean said apologeti
cally. The onlookers chuckled.

  Sighing, Shelby continued, “It was then that the little man actually spoke to us. ‘My prayers have been answered,’ he said. ‘You will purchase from me my rope for six silver coins. You will acquire the magic rope, and I shall not go hungry.’ We were an answer to his prayers, what choice did we have?” Shelby implored of the crowd.

  “Verily, what could we do?” Bean said, mimicking the tone of Shelby’s voice.

  Shelby’s hat swung once again at Bean, but this time he ducked out of the way. The unsatisfied Shelby hauled off and gave Bean a swift kick in the shin.

  “Ow! That ’urts!” Bean howled as he brought his knee up to his chest. He hopped around on his good leg as the court chuckled heartily.

  “Oh shut up, you moronic excuse of a— Oh never mind, you are not worth the trouble. Now, be quiet and show our patient audience what we purchased from the small man.”

  Bean patted down his clothing as if looking for something on his person. “Oh indeed, I remember where I put it.” Bean removed his belt and tossed the front of his tunic over his shoulder. His thigh-length, bright green, full-sleeved tabard and multicolored hose were the only garments now showing.

  “Well, where is it?” Shelby said impatiently.

  Bean reached under his tabard and pulled out, from what looked like his loins, the end of a rope. Taking it in both hands before him, he paused and looked out at the audience, and, with a wry grin, said, “Here it is!” he ground out lustily then winked at the audience.

  The crowd’s shoulders shook with mirth as they tried to keep their eyes on the insolent Bean.

  Bean proceeded to pull out the rope little by little and his face took on an extremely smug look as if he were the proud owner of the longest ‘rope’ anyone had ever seen.