Timeless Tales of Honor

by Suzan Tisdale

  The music picked up pace and the performers commenced with a lively routine. The group of guests clapped in rhythm as a line of male dancers began to dance in a well-orchestrated circle, dropping to their knees and bounding to their feet as the music demanded. Arissa continued to observe with growing interest when a body suddenly moved beside her.

  "I think they're boring," Regine sniffed, perching herself on the seat Richmond usually occupied. "I want to dance."

  Arissa peered closely at her younger sister, noting that the girl was barely resting her bottom on the chair. "We will be dancing all night. And I do not think the performers are boring in the least."

  Regine did not reply, lifting her shoulders in a spoiled gesture. A serving wench passed by with a full trencher and Regine imperiously demanded that it be placed in front of her. The plate was barely settled before the plump young girl was digging into the food with both hands.

  The group of performers executed several dances. Regine finished her trencher and greedily consumed two goblets of fine wine as Arissa wait for Richmond to make an appearance. Her attention was diverted from the entertainment at one point when she saw Emma and Gavan to be in conversation, but Emma seemed to be controlling her urges rather well and Gavan was actually smiling.

  Satisfied the situation did not require her intervention, she returned her focus to the last few moments of the Macedonian act and wondered if Richmond was ever going to show himself. She did so want to apologize for her hateful words.

  The performance abruptly came to an end and the gay audience applauded loudly. Just as the dancers were leaving the floor, a shadow fell across Arissa from behind. Huge hands reached down for Regine.

  "Remove yourself, lady," Richmond's voice was low. "You are in my chair."

  Regine leapt to her feet as if his touch had burned her, stumbling in her haste to dislodge her blistered bottom from the embroidered seat. Her eyes were big on Richmond as she gave the man a wide berth, scampering away in fear. Richmond did not so much as pass her a glance as he assumed his seat beside Arissa.

  Arissa's gaze was anxious as she looked upon him. He kept his attention averted, however, shoving aside Regine's trencher and summoning his own. Only when he was served with both food and drink did he turn his focus to Arissa.

  Arissa lost her breath with the intense look in his eye. They blazed upon her and instinctively, her palms began to sweat. But it was more than his gaze; the overall picture of Richmond le Bec was enough to strike her speechless. The magnificent presentation lain before her had been well worth the wait.

  He was armorless. She'd never seen him armorless on a social situation. Clad in a dark blue tunic, simple but masculine, black breeches and his customary black boots, he looked absolutely stunning. The swelling on the bridge of his nose had almost disappeared and the cut above his eye was practically invisible. He was glorious.

  "Greetings, my lady."

  She swallowed hard, followed by a feeble smile. She couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. "Good eve, my lord."

  He returned her smile, his eyes glittering. "Your party seems to be a success already. What did you think of the Macedonian dancers?"

  "They were wonderful," her voice was strangely tight. She couldn't care less about the Macedonian dancers at the moment. "Where have you been? I thought.... I thought mayhap you had decided not to attend."

  His brow furrowed momentarily. "Why would you think that? I do apologize for my tardiness, however. After a day of rolling in the dirt I thought it best to bathe before attending your celebration, lest I chase off your guests with my foul odor."

  Her smile turned genuine. "Where is your armor?"

  "I cannot dance in armor."

  "You plan to dance? Richmond, I do not believe I have ever seen you dance."

  "Because I have never danced with you."

  A charming blush crept into her cheeks and she looked away, taking a dainty sip from her chalice. The evening was looking brighter already.

  "Thank you for sending Gavan to escort me," she said quietly. "I am sorry he did not bring Kathryn."

  "Kathryn cannot travel in her pregnant condition and Gavan is nervous enough without the added risk of a long ride," he glanced across the room. "Emma, however, does not share your view."

  Arissa looked over her shoulder. Emma was following Gavan around as he moved about the room. He was seeing to the security of the gallery as Carlton and Daniel enjoyed themselves and did not need the added distraction of Emma's company.

  Arissa shook her head at her aggressive friend. "I shall go and speak with her."

  He put his hand on her arm as she moved to stand. "Gavan is a grown man and can handle himself against the onslaught." When Arissa relaxed into her seat, he smiled at her. "I demand that you ignore the rabble and enjoy yourself. This is your party, is it not?"

  She returned his grin. "It is." After a lengthy pause, her smile faded. "I am sorry I became angry with you, Richmond. I should not have said what I did."

  He patted her hand, a quick squeeze before releasing it. "There is nothing to forgive, kitten. If anyone should apologize, it should be I for upsetting you so on your birthday."

  "You had every right to be angry," she lowered her voice so her father would not hear. "I approve of the manner in which you handled the situation. You are exceedingly wise."

  He cocked a dark eyebrow, finishing the insult. "As befitting my age."

  She smiled. "Your words, my love, not mine."

  Arissa watched Richmond through dreamy eyes as he devoured his meal. He cast her an occasional wink, his favorite gesture, trying desperately not to appear too upswept with her delightful beauty. But it was terribly difficult when her sweet face was a mere foot from his own, her green eyes watching his every move.

  More than that, he was positive that if she gazed into his eyes long enough, she would be able to read of his terrible guilt, his sweeping grief. Discovering his betrothal not an hour before still had him reeling with shock, a shock that transformed into unimaginable pain every time he gazed in Arissa's eyes. He knew, without a doubt, that she would take the news much harder than he had.

  Arissa suddenly leaned against his arm, sending a surge of shock bolting through his body. His first reaction was to move away from her lest William take note their close contact, but in the next breath he realized that Arissa had oft leaned against him over the years, an affectionate gesture and nothing more. And if she was not leaning on him, she was sitting upon his lap and demanding stories. There was nothing unusual about their contact and he struggled to maintain a casual manner.

  Her cheek against his massive bicep, Arissa yawned. "When are they going to commence dancing?"

  He gazed down at her dark head, resisting the urge to deposit a kiss on the raven tresses. "Give the word, kitten, and I shall command it."

  She raised her head, gazing up at his incredible face. "The word is given. I want a lively dance, if you please."

  He frowned, feeling himself being sucked into the powerful vortex of her gaze. "Not too lively. I will not be able to keep pace."

  "You mean you are too old to keep pace," she laughed softly at his menacing expression. "Hurry, now. Go and tell them to begin playing before I fall asleep."

  "You would fall asleep at your own party?"

  It was a comment more than a question. Obediently, he rose to his full height and Arissa couldn't take her eyes off him. Casting her a bold wink, he stepped around his chair and moved off the dais. Just as he was passing in front of the table en route to the orchestra, he came to an abrupt, if not disbelieving, halt. Arissa tore her eyes off of him long enough to glance to the source of his focus.

  Bartholomew was moving into the room, clad in yards and yards of white fabric that had been dirtied with soot or some other sort of blackness. His face was painted white and dark circles ringed his faded blue eyes. Beside her, she heard her father groan.

  "Good Christ, now what?" he said miserably, motioning to Richmond standin
g on the other side of the table. "Get him out of here, Richmond. I shall not have him spoiling the celebration."

  Richmond stepped in Bartholomew's direction, but Arissa leapt to her feet and held out a quelling hand. "No, Richmond, leave him alone. He’s about to perform a special skit in honor of my birthday."

  Richmond halted his forward momentum, his gaze moving between Arissa and her father. William focused on his daughter. "What sort of skit? Did he tell you?"

  "Of course not, father. It is a surprise."

  William cast a long glance at his son, who was currently taking position by the elaborate hearth. He shook his head slowly. "He looks as if he’s just survived a bout with the plague. What sort of performance could he be planning with that costume?"

  Lady Maude stood up on the other side of her husband. "If it is in honor of his sister's birthday, then we will all sit and enjoy it. No matter what it is," she regained her seat, waving a stern hand to Richmond. "Return to your seat, Richmond."

  Richmond obeyed. As soon as he pulled his chair up to the table, Arissa wound her warm fingers around his hand. Under the table, he clutched her tightly.

  The crowd saw that Bartholomew was about to speak and a hush settled over the smoke-hazed room. Bartholomew faced his sister, his parents, and raised his arm in simulation of a Roman salute.

  "Greetings, friends, guests, relatives, honored nobles. In tribute to my sister's most monumental day of birth, I have prepared a prolific Greek prose that, in itself, hinges the meaning of life," he focused on his sister dramatically. "For you, my dear sister. Congratulations that you have achieved this day:

  'Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate,

  Sad Acheron of sorrow black and deep;

  Cocytus named of lamentation loud

  Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon

  Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.'"

  The prose was delivered with great flourish, gloom-and-doom that would be better suited for a funeral than a birthday celebration. William put his face in his hand and shook his head with disbelief while the rest of the hall was deadly silent, listening with intense concern and puzzlement.

  "He’s praising her by reciting a poem about the River Styx?" Gavan was suddenly crouched by Richmond's left hand. Two seats down, Daniel and Penelope sat with open mouths as Bartholomew raised his voice with great theatrical control. Regine, loitering at the end of the table, watched her sister and Richmond closely for their reaction.

  Richmond kept his gaze straight ahead, on Bartholomew. "Hardly appropriate." Beside him, Arissa hushed them both sternly.

  Bartholomew took a dramatic pause, propping his foot on a chair and pretending to pilot a boat as one does when crossing water, by using a pole and pushing it across the bottom.

  " 'Far off from these slow and silent stream.

  Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls

  Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks

  Forthwith his former state and being forgets,

  Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.'"

  He suddenly bowed with great embellishment before any applause was attempted. As he took his third bow, the stunned audience began to clap weakly for a performance that was obviously concluded.

  Bartholomew soaked up the timid adoration like a sponge. As if he had just completed the greatest performance of his life, he thanked the crowd graciously, working his way toward the dais, shaking hands and kissing women’s palms as he went on his way. He knew, without question, that he was the greatest actor in all the civilized world. Soon enough, all of England would realize it as well.

  The applause was already dying out as Richmond and Gavan watched him approach. "God's Teeth," Gavan muttered, rising from his crouch. "Of all the...."

  Arissa shot him a nasty look, giving her brother a loud standing ovation as he approached. Gavan bit his tongue and removed himself from the dais lest Arissa physically attack him for his opinion. Richmond, however, was not so fortunate.

  "That was by far the most unsuitable act...."

  Arissa turned to him before he could finish his sentence. "If you say one negative word to him, Richmond le Bec, I shall have your head. Do you understand me?"

  Richmond glanced at William, his back turned against his daughter and the great knight as he conversed softly with his wife. And Richmond had little doubt regarding the subject. Turning his gaze to Arissa once again, he nodded once in resignation. "Perfectly, kitten."

  Pleased with his submission, Arissa returned her focus to her brother as he came upon the table. His smile was bright as he took both of Arissa's hands into his own, kissing them loudly.

  "For you, my darling Riss," he said happily. "Are you pleased?"

  She nodded vigorously. "It was wonderful, Bart, simply wonderful. Thank you so much for a most memorable gift."

  His smile threatened to divide his face in half. He glanced at Richmond, waiting expectantly for the same words of praise. Richmond cocked a stubborn eyebrow until Arissa stepped on his foot. It was not a painful action, but he took the hint nonetheless. It would please Arissa and, therefore, he would perjure himself.

  "Most accomplished, Bart," he mumbled.

  Bartholomew bowed courteously in thanks. "I am glad you are pleased. I have saved several others for later this eve when everyone grows tired of dancing."

  William had turned away from Maude and sat listening to the conversation. Maude had managed to convince him to praise his son's talents and he was fully prepared to do so. But when Bartholomew intimated that his performance was not yet complete, he could no longer remain silent.

  "This is a party, Bart, not a theatre performance," he said sternly. "You cannot expect people to sit still when there is music and food and entertainment to be had. Truthfully, I do believe one dose of Greek tragedy is quite enough."

  Arissa turned to her father, highly aware of her brother's feelings. Bartholomew was terribly sensitive when it came to his craft.

  "I.... I think it would be wonderful, Father,” she insisted. “Mayhap Bart could grant us another recitation later on this evening. I would certainly enjoy it, and you saw the favorable reaction of our guests to his act."

  William cast her a droll, irritable glance. "Aye, I saw their reaction. And I would hardly call it favorable."

  "It was grand!" Maude leapt to her son's defense. "However, I would suggest that you change out of your costume and enjoy the evening. You are a host and certainly not expected to entertain your guests as a common artisan. Truthfully, dear, it is beneath your station as heir to the earldom to perform in front of those you would preside over."

  Leave it to Maude to tactfully put an end to Bartholomew's act. His expression dampened somewhat and he glanced at Arissa uncertainly. Seeing his indecision, Arissa took her mother's lead.

  "I must agree with mother, Bart," she said gently. "Although your performance was magnificent, it is quite different when you perform for the immediate family. To display yourself for your vassals, subjecting yourself to their review, is hardly fitting for the future earl."

  Bartholomew's gaze roved over the entire table, his eyes veiled with doubt. After a moment, he nodded reluctantly. "If that is your wish, then I shall adhere to it. I am sorry you feel that way."

  Arissa could see that his feelings were hurt and she hastened to assure him. "Truly, Bart, I could listen to you all night. Please do not be angry."

  He shook his head, his mood damp and his demeanor somber. "I am not. I suppose I shall go and change so that I may join the festivities," he slanted his father a cold glance. "So that I may blend in with the crowd. That is what you want, is it not? You would have me be like all the rest so that you are not embarrassed by your son, the eccentric."

  He moved across the room, leaving Arissa in tears. As Regine slipped after her brother, William sighed heavily. "'Tis about time he realizes my view. It's taken him a long time to become aware of his station in life. Mayhap now he will even reconsider his knighthood an
d forget about this ridiculous thespian art."

  Arissa turned to her father. "How can you be so heartless? Bart is a deeply sensitive man with a good deal of intelligence and vigor. How can you quash his spirit under your boot as one would a spider?"

  "Do not fret so, Riss," William saw her tears but, as usual, was not overly swayed. Sometimes he was quite inept when it came to sensing the depths of the human soul. "He’s not quashed, but merely realizing his place in the world. He’s to be an earl, not an idiot performer with dreams of grandeur. The sooner he comes to grips with his destiny, the better for us all."

  Arissa stared at her father. He could be a callous man at times, with little understanding beyond very basic emotions. Even when it came to his own family. He viewed the world the way he wanted to see it or not at all; all else was scorned or ignored.

  "You hurt his feelings, Father," she said softly, knowing she might as well be talking to a stone wall.

  William snorted, accepting another goblet of fine wine. "He will overcome his foolish emotions. I shall not coddle my son's temperamental state as if he were a weakling. He’s the future earl and damn well better start acting as such."

  There was no use in speaking with the man and Arissa turned away from him. Concerned with her brother's mental condition, she moved away from the table intent upon seeking him. Richmond reached out and grasped her arm as she passed him by.

  "Where are you going, Riss?"

  "To find Bart," she passed an angry glance at her father. "Regine is comforting him and so shall I. Together we will prove to him that at least two members of his family care about his craft."

  Richmond shook his head faintly. "He has Regine to console him for the moment. Stay and enjoy your party and we shall seek him later."

  She pulled her arm free, hurt and angry on her brother's behalf. "I would find him now, Richmond."

  He snatched her once more, more firmly this time. "Leave Bart to regain his composure. For now, I feel like dancing. Will you join me, or must I seek out another willing partner?"