Penryn’s heart ached to see it, but she nodded to Respie all the same. “You should be with your family today.”
Respie gave her a timid glance before it melted into a wide smile, and she took off her apron and smoothed her hands down her skirts before walking quickly to her place far down the line, shooing one of the younger ones to an empty chair and taking her place beside, presumably, her mother.
She could not quite make out their expressions, not from the distance, but at the many hugs exchanged, they seemed glad of the girl’s presence.
Penryn took another sip from her goblet, finding it odd how the beverage almost left a tingling numbness to her lips after a long pull.
Perhaps it would numb other senses if she kept at it, and she put it down quickly, the temptation a little too strong.
The food itself was pleasant enough, at least in appearance. She made a show of cutting apart the generous slices of tender meat and pulled apart the little braided loaf to eat so as to give the illusion that she was eating, but could not quite bring herself to actually to so. Her stomach was in knots, her skin prickling with awareness whenever someone’s attention drifted from the feast in order to look at her, and she felt too uncomfortable to force rich foods to join the fray as well.
If she closed her eyes, let the rabble of voices overtake her, it was not quite so bad. She could pretend then that she was seated amongst them rather than apart, that the wretched loneliness was not tugging at her mind and heart until it threatened to overwhelm her, that tears were distant things, for another life.
“Are you all right, my lady?” a voice asked, near enough that she opened her eyes with a start, blushing fiercely at having been caught so. It seemed early for any to have vacated their seats to approach her, but evidently a brave couple had felt the need to be the first. They were bedecked in every finery, gold and jewels draped from necks that somehow remained elegant even in their advanced years. Rings twined about most of their fingers, one on each of their right hands far plainer than the rest, worn and bearing the scratches that spoke of hard work rather than privilege.
A long life spent together, then.
“I am well,” Penryn assured them. The wife leaned heavily on her husband’s arm, her smile warm although she did not seem prepared to address Penryn directly. Her eyes were milky with age, a pale blue that did not seem entirely healthy, and Penryn wondered if she could see through them at all. Her husband’s hand held tightly to hers.
“We will not trespass on your meal for long,” he assured her. “We just wanted to thank you ourselves.”
Penryn gave a tight smile. “For?”
He blinked, as if the answer was obvious. “For signing. For keeping our lads from fighting. We were at the Introduction and it seemed for a moment as if there was trouble, but that must have been all sorted out for us all to be here.” He looked worried for a moment, rather than presumptuous, as if he was looking for her assurance rather than merely thanking her for a service.
Penryn glanced down to the sages and found Henrik’s eyes on her. Her mouth suddenly dry, she took another sip of the strong drink, forgetting her determination not to do so. “Your lands are safe, as are your sons.” That seemed safe enough, although she resented it heartily that the same could not be said for the lands beyond the Wall.
She put down the goblet, the warmth in her belly not quite the comfort it was intended to be.
The husband stared at her a little longer before he offered a grim smile and murmured his thanks again and led his wife back down to their seats. Penryn watched them as they left her, feeling strangely bereft at witnessing such devotion, and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was doubtful she would grow old at all, let alone do so utterly lacking in companionship. She picked up a crumb of plaited bread and brought it to her lips, trying to coax herself into eating it, but everything in her rebelled at even so small a morsel so she put it down with a sigh.
Others started to approach her table, offering thanks, some not bothering with words at all, only looking at each other before looking to her and bursting into a fit of nervous giggles. Those approaches were done by young girls, and Penryn could not imagine what they were thinking or what ritual would cause such a reaction between them, but beleaguered parents came quickly enough and herded them away, hissed whispers finding Penryn’s ears about being too deep in their cups and it was water for the rest of the day and if they did not like it they could wait alone at home.
It was with firmer resolve that Penryn kept her hands away from her goblet, lest she make a similar fool of herself, her tongue loosened and manner too bright.
Perhaps that was why they had given her a pitcher of the stuff?
The thought was not a pleasant one.
The dancing started soon after. Penryn had seen faint depictions of instruments and a vague description of their sound, but it was not at all the same as hearing them performed with practiced hands. Most were played by blowing into long tubes, fingers pressing wildly that seemed to change the nature of the sound. There were a few strange contraptions with strings that were tucked under chins and long sticks rubbed out impressive melodies with ease.
The sound altogether was an unexpected chaos at first, couples getting up from
