“Thank you for gracing the christening of my son with your presence and that of your lovely sister Mary of Blystoke.” He reached out a gloved hand for hers for the obligatory kiss.
Eleanor stifled a sigh and held out her hand. Fortunately, she had had the presence of mind to not remove her glove, so she at least did not have to worry about his slimy lips on her skin. She could not wear gloves the entire length of their visit, here, though, so she knew she was only postponing the inevitable moment when his slobbering lips would leave a moist deposit on her hand—and with any good fortune, he would be unable to leave any moist kisses anywhere else!
William’s pop-eyes leered at her as he grabbed her gloved hand and rubbed his lips over it. “We shall repair immediately to the Great Hall for a feast,” he said. “Tomorrow is the christening of my beloved son and heir.” He inclined his head to hers. “He needs a mother,” he said suggestively. “And I need a wife.” Eleanor could have sworn he almost licked his lips and she fought a wave of nausea. To have those lips meet hers! ‘Twas a thought she could not abide.
Collecting herself, she lifted her chin and smiled a small smile. “We shall speak of this further,” she said coolly. “I know how important loyalty is to you, sire,” she said. “We shall be glad to join you in the Great Hall once we have washed.”
William raised his eyebrows in a question, but nodded his head. No wonder he looked surprised at her comment about washing, Eleanor scoffed to herself. He probably hadn’t washed for a year, at least!
After rinsing off the dust of the road, Eleanor and Mary, along with Agnes and Anne, made their way down to the Great Hall of Litchfield. The hall was tremendous, its ceiling reaching seemingly almost to the heavens, with banners suspended from golden rods high above the assembled company. Dozens of servants hurried to and fro among the crowded tables, carrying steaming platters of all manner of fishes and fowl and meats, roast suckling pigs with apples in their mouths, and braces of peacocks, with their iridescent feathers still on their bodies for ornament, as usual.
Eleanor and her company were announced by William’s steward, and they threaded their way through the crowd, accepting bows and curtseys with smiles. Agnes found a place at the lower end of the hall and Anne took a seat at a table close by the high table, where Eleanor and Mary were to sit with William. Hugh was seated already at William’s left hand, Eleanor noticed, and the seat to William’s right was vacant. Ugh! Did she already have the coveted seat of honor, as if she were already wedded to this cretin?
William stood, almost grabbed Eleanor’s hand, slobbering his greasy lips over it, and motioned to her to take the seat at his right. “Welcome, dear Lady Eleanor,” he said, his mouth still full of some disgusting bits of meat. “We hope you find the meal—and the company—to your liking.” He gestured to Mary to sit next to Eleanor, and Mary sank into the chair, eyes on her trencher at her place. Hugh, deep in conversation with a young knight on his left, stopped, stood briefly, bowed to first Eleanor and then Mary.
“Miladies,” he said. Then he took his seat again, continuing his conversation and spearing a piece of meat from his trencher on his knife. No kiss of the hand today? Eleanor wondered. Somehow, she felt cheated, even though she knew that the touch of his lips would no doubt start another wave of forbidden longing in her. With a sigh, she turned her attention to William.
God shield me, Eleanor thought, taking her chair next to William. She shifted her weight surreptitiously, moving her heavy chair to the side a bit, as far away from William as she could, without being almost in Mary’s lap. Now she could perhaps avoid touching him and smelling his rank odor.
William gulped his wine noisily, and, to her chagrin, Eleanor realized that she and he were to share the same goblet! She would rather be drawn and quartered! She would go thirsty, or think of another way to get something to drink, before she would let her lips touch where his greasy ones had been. No doubt, he didn’t even observe the nicety of wiping the rim after each swallow, and, in fact, probably relished the idea that her lips would touch the selfsame spot his had touched.
A servant approached her with a potage and a platter of some kind of white fish in verjuice, and she helped herself, ladling it onto the trencher at her place. She looked up at the servant.
“I find I am so thirsty for water after our long journey,” she said quickly. “Might you bring me a pitcher and a goblet?”
Bobbing and bowing, the servant retreated, and Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief. She had escaped from one dilemma, but there were bound to be others, equally unpleasant.
“I have been thinking on your proposal to wait for our marriage,” William said, leaning closer to Eleanor. Her nose wrinkled at the sour odor of him. “Your words have merit regarding the loyalty.” He patted her arm and she tried not to recoil. “’Twould perhaps be more meet if we allowed some time to pass afore we say our nuptials, although,” he said, a suggestive grin on his face, “I do not know if I can wait to take you to my bed. ‘Twould be a pleasure I would relish soon. And I know you would relish it, as well,” he finished, stroking her arm.
Eleanor gasped involuntarily. “What say you?” she exclaimed. “Not wait?” Then, she
