"Any news from House Mirvanovir?"
"No, they have been reticent since settling in. The Duke of Creon's daughter has come for her first council session. I saw her briefly yesterday. A very comely girl; they should make a good match with her."
Hollin remembered Ian's having said something similar about this same girl. Apparently her parents were hoping to secure a more illustrious match by bringing her to Pentarin during a council session when the city would be filled with many of the Pentarchy's most illustrious families. She felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl, but then perhaps this was something the girl desired as well. In the social reality of arranged marriages, many girls simply thought of it as the way it should be.
A knock at the door informed them that the honour guard had arrived and that it was time for the duchess to be escorted with due pomp and ceremony to the formal banquet. Surrounded by her own guards and courtiers, the Duchess of Langstraad moved in stately procession to the Great Hall.
The Great Hall of Pentarin Palace stood at the far end of the central, semi-circular courtyard. In this building were held the audiences, state banquets and entertainments of the royal court. A flight of broad, shallow steps led up to the great bronze doors of the building. The bas-relief panels affixed to these doors depicted the founding of the Pentarchy by Gryffyd and his four children. A crowd of people had gathered and were milling about on the edges of courtyard. Many were servants, some were nobles looking to find their places, and others were guards seeing that business was conducted in an orderly fashion. Bright colours dominated the scene and the smell of food being prepared wafted out from the palace kitchens. There was a sense of expectancy in the scene as the commencement of the banquet drew close. This feast of welcoming, held on the eve of the convening of the Pentacle Council, was one of the more important social events of the year, and even those not invited to enter the hall still tried to catch a glimpse of the nobles who were invited. As the time drew near, the principal members of the Great and Minor Houses assumed their places at the top of the stairways that rimmed the courtyard. The invited nobles and guests of the city had already taken their places in the courtyard itself. As Hollin and her escort approached the stairs, the people who were in her path fell back, bowing assiduously. She gave no sign that she saw or heard what was going on around her, but continued to walk with a measured pace until she stood at the top of the stairs. Looking from the people gathered below to the closed doors of the hall, she noted that each of the other Great House members now stood, as she did, at the top of their flight of stairs. Silence came over the crowd as the great doors swung open and the regent, Lord Percamber, flanked by his house guards and wearing the chain of office over his formal robes, came forth. He raised his hand in greeting and trumpets brassily resounded within the courtyard. Taking her cue, Hollin began the slow, cadenced walk down the stairs and across the courtyard. Each of the other Great Houses did the same, being careful to arrive at the foot of the main staircase together. Behind them the Minor Houses began their walk. When they reached the bottom step, the Heads of each of the Great Houses lined up abreast of each other and began to ascend. The other House family members, nobles and guards followed them. At the top, they paused before the regent and bowed acknowledgment. He, in turn, gave each of them a kinsman's embrace and then led the way into the Great Hall.
Once within the doorway, Hollin paused to let her eyes adjust themselves to the dimmed light. "Her Grace, the Lady Hollin Morwen Medicat ap Lir, Duchess of Langstraad!" the voice of the doorkeeper boomed, and she found herself walking through the doors, as she had many times in the past, and into the enormous space of the hall.
It was an oblong room with great terminal apses at either end, very high and spacious, with an internal four-sided colonnade carrying, under the barrel-vaulted ceiling, a clerestory of windows that allowed light and air to enter the room. Columns of many different coloured stone, their capitals carved with birds and beasts in amongst flowers and vines, ran the length of the room. Four huge fireplaces were set at intervals along the walls, and tapestries full of colour and movement were hung in the intervening spaces between the pillars. The main doorway was set midway along one of the long walls. In the northern apse were hung the five standards representing the five Great Houses of the Pentarchy: the Red Stag leaping on white of Tuenth, the Green Dragon rising on gold of Langstraad, the Golden Boar charging on black of Creon, the Black Swan swimming on red of Mirvanovir and the Silver Griffon rampant on blue of Sandovar. In the southern apse were hung the smaller standards of the Minor Houses: a black tower on a blue chevron for the Inner Ward, a blue dagger on a green chevron for Pentarell, a gold harp on a red chevron for Treves, a green trefoil on black chevron for Gresha and a red arrow on a gold chevron for Thurin. All of the Minor House insignia were mounted on cream-coloured linen.
Directly opposite the door, high on the western wall, was a round window containing a pentagon with the five within five pentangle, symbolizing the unity of the Houses, worked in lead and coloured glass. The westering sun caused the pattern of the window to be laid directly in the center of the floor at this time of day, so that as each member of the various Houses came into the hall they were bathed in the multi-coloured light from the window. Beneath the standards, on raised platforms across each of the apses, were set long tables with high-backed, individually carved chairs for the principle members of the Great and Minor Houses. All the other invited nobles and guests had taken their places at the tables laid out in the center of the room.
Hollin entered the hall and was momentarily washed in the coloured lights before being escorted to her place at the table of the Great Houses. Beside her stood a young man with a friendly, open countenance, Lord Hywell Gunnar ap Halberstad, heir to the Great House of Tuenth. On the other side of him she could see the short, stolid figure of his mother, the duchess, next to the Duke of Tuenth.
"His Grace, Branwilde Kayn d'Aurilac, Duke of Creon! Her Grace, Dierdre Grainne ap Derwan, Duchess of Creon! Lord Owen Branwilde d'Aurilac! Lady Angharad Dierdre d'Aurilac!" The quartet traveled in stately pairs up the length of the hall. The duke was a tall, handsome man of about fifty years with strong, prominent features and a short beard that was just beginning to grey. Beside him, raven-haired and almost as tall as her husband, the Lady Dierdre walked slowly, her face stern with dignity. Creon's heir, Lord Owen, looked very much like a younger version of his father without the blockiness of age, but Lady Angharad did not favour either of her parents. She was small and slight of stature with a mass of pale brown hair that tumbled around her shoulders and down her back despite numerous hairpins and the delicate circlet of gold and amethysts she wore around her head. Alert blue-violet eyes darted restively about the room as she followed her parents up the steps to take her place beside them on the dais. Hollin was amused to see Hywell's appraising gaze on the Duke of Creon's daughter. If her parents were seeking a good match for her, they had brought her to the right place.
"His Grace, Niall Alcuin de Brennin, Duke of Mirvanovir! Her Grace, Rashara Clementiel de Sharonara, Duchess of Mirvanovir! Lord Galen Niall de Brennin!" Hollin's attention was immediately engaged by the approach of this trio. As always, the duchess commanded the admiration of every man in the room. It was more than just physical beauty that garnered this reaction to her. With the Duchess of Mirvanovir, it was almost a chemical or, in Hollin's estimation an alchemical, attraction. Whatever it was Rashara did or used, the result was that most men found her irresistible, including, it seemed, her husband the duke. She was his second wife, the first having died many years ago after a very short and fruitless marriage. Rumour said that when Rashara refused to become his mistress, Niall had had his first wife removed by poison to open the way for marriage to Rashara. Whether the rumour was true or not, Talina was long dead and Rashara had reigned as Duchess of Mirvanovir for almost fifteen years, and had produced the duke's sole heir. With her dark gold hair pulled up on her head leaving her exquisite white neck and shoulde
rs bare, many would have judged her to be closer to the Lady Angharad's age rather than a woman in her late thirties.
Dressed in the black and crimson of Mirvanovir and wearing his state crown, the duke escorted his lady to the dais. If his wife was described as beautiful by most men, then it was equally true that the duke would be judged handsome by the majority of women present. Tall and sinewy rather than muscular, there was a sleekness to his body and the way in which he moved that was precise and cat-like. The dark, close-curled hair, thick as fleece, showed no grey and, unless one looked closely, his face had few lines He had black eyes which could be softly languid one moment and snapping with brightness in the next, and a nose that was straight and thin, a perfect complement to his mouth.
As these two magnetic personages paced the length of the hall they were followed almost unnoticed by their only child and heir. Lord Galen had none of his father's suave manner nor his mother's extraordinary good looks. He was a gawky, ill-visaged boy of fourteen with a bad complexion and a limp mop of fair hair who, when he spoke at all, was never listened to. He might have engendered more pity if he had been less apt to whine when he did get the chance to speak.
After the entrances and seating of the Great Houses, the Minor Houses made their entry. However, before seating themselves at the far end of the hall, they first approached the dais of the Great Houses and made their obeisance to those seated. The Earl of the Inner Ward, Lord Larth Brescom, stomped up and bowed with characteristic stiffness. He was followed by the Countess of Pentarell, Lady Laurin Miriel Danane, a lively and still graceful septuagenarian. The Earl of Gresha, Lord Lewys Glendark, piloted his pretty, young wife, Lady Maire Cadfell, to her place at the Minor House table. Being her first visit to Pentarin as well as her first council session, she was evincing signs of acute nervousness in her darting eyes and the bobbing quality of her curtsies. Next, Hollin watched with pleasure as the Viscount and Viscountess of Treves came forward to bow serenely. They were quickly followed by Lord Aidan Ravenspur, the Viscount of Thurin, and his wife, Lady Caitlan ap Derwan, younger sister to the Duchess of Creon.
"Does this seem to take longer each year?" Hollin heard Hywell say to her under his breath.
"At least we only do this once a year," she replied keeping her eyes trained straight ahead as the last of the guests finished bowing.
Lord Percamber rose to address the crowd with a speech of welcome, after which everyone raised their glasses and drank to his health and then to each of the Great Houses in turn. Servants began carrying in trays of food and flagons of drink. Musicians strolled in amongst the tables, playing their instruments while the voices of the guests were raised in an incessant tide of conversation that at times vied with and overcame the music. Between the fires, food and multitude of sounds, the air in the hall became quite thick as the evening drew on. The early portion of the banquet was traditionally devoted to consuming large quantities of food and drink, and the latter portion to listening to music and poetry and watching the court dancers.
Drinking as little of the potent mead as was politely possible, Hollin settled down to wait the evening out. Wearing the stiff and heavy formal dress, not to mention the weight of the crown, was not conducive to a relaxed evening. Also, while the less exalted of the guests might stand and move about, some of them even joining in the dancing, members of the Houses were expected to sit in rigid splendor for the many hours that the banquet would entail. Early in her career, Hollin's mother had warned her to avoid drinking or eating too much. "State Occasions are not meant to be enjoyed, at least not by us," she had told her daughter. Fortunately, sitting beside Hywell spared her the dull conversations that others at the table were indulging in. Since important matters could hardly be discussed here, trifling inconsequentialities were the main fare. On the other side of Hollin, Lord Percamber gazed preoccupied out into the room. After greeting her, he had turned his attention to the running of the festivities.
"I don't think I've had the pleasure of seeing your grace since last year's council session. You're looking very well," Hywell said, "considering that this place is like an oven and you're wearing the equivalent of a fair-sized rock on your head."
Hollin turned to meet the impish grin of her neighbor. He was an attractive young man with unusual almond-shaped green eyes and a healthy shock of russet hair. "Has it been so long? With compliments like those it seems longer still," she replied equably. He covered his laugh with his cup of mead. "You weren't at the Earl of Gresha's wedding last autumn?" she inquired conversationally.
"I wanted to go, but father deemed it too far to travel. He said I was of more use in my own duchy and sent my brother Blaise as ambassador in my stead." Hywell sounded both wistful and resentful. It was evident that he was beginning to chafe under the restraints placed on him by his father. "I heard the wedding was quite splendid. You were there, were you not?"
Hollin nodded, taking a sip of the honey wine. "Yes, it was a very pleasant occasion. Then again, I didn't have to wear full state regalia for it." She had traveled to Gresha with Ian and her grandparents, the future Countess of Gresha being related to her grandmother's family. Ian had been on his best behavior acting as her formal escort, and she had thoroughly enjoyed herself.
As if divining her thoughts, Hywell continued. "My brother Blaise said that your cousin was visiting Mirvanovir's court recently. How is Lord Ian these days? I thought I might see him this council session."
"No, he usually acts as steward for me while I attend the Pentacle Council," she explained. "So it was Blaise that my cousin met in Mirvanovir. He mentioned that one of you was visiting when he was there." She looked past Hywell and his parents to where Blaise ap Halberstad lounged in his chair. He was tall and large boned like his brother, with the same distinctive eyes but a darker shade of hair, brushed and dressed with great care and attention. In many ways he looked and acted the elder of the brothers though he was third in the line of succession. She vaguely remembered seeing him at Gresha's wedding celebration.
"..and so, since my brother Torval has not been in good health of recent years, Blaise has taken it on himself to be the family's ambassador." Hollin looked into the guileless eyes of the young lord and recalled Ian's intimation about the Duke of Tuenth's son and the Duchess of Mirvanovir. She pushed the thought out of her mind. True or not, it was not her problem and she had no intention of passing such a story on to anyone.
The noise in the hall was diminishing as the evening's main performers began to enter the hall and the empty platters were born away. Music was made an accompaniment and the poets and storytellers started to weave their art. Hollin always enjoyed this part of the banquet and wished that she could be more comfortable to enjoy it the more. Wine continued to be served in copious quantities and it would not be long before language would be superseded by more music and then by dancing. The performers circulated about the huge room, stopping, entertaining and then moving on.
The sound of a lute and a strong baritone voice caught Hollin's attention and she noted with pleasure the young musician she had met during her evening with the Lord and Lady de Chantalcalm. He stood before the table of the Great Houses singing one of the ancient ballads, making it new with that special talent Hollin had heard previously. When he finished there was a murmur of pleasure and appreciation from his noble audience. He continued to sing and play several more songs, eventually moving on to make way for one of the court poets. Hollin, half-listening as the poet commenced his recital, watched the young musician wend his way through the hall and slip out one of the side doors. She was disappointed that he would evidently not be performing again for them that evening. Later, she noticed the Duke of Creon's daughter surreptitiously leaving the hall. Hollin was sympathetic; it took patience and training to sit through a royal banquet. Fleetingly she wished that she could also slip away unnoticed for awhile. Instead, she readjusted her posture and continued to sit, watching and listening with gracious attention, ignoring the ache in her neck.
"Daffyd?" The voice was light and soft and sent a vibration running through him.
"Here, my lady," he answered walking quickly towards her.
With a rush of movement, she was suddenly in his arms kissing him impetuously. "I thought the banquet would last forever. Oh Dai, its been such a long time without you!" She kissed him again and held him tightly to her.
"Angharad, Angharad." The name was muttered as he buried his face in the wealth of her hair. His hands stroked her, assuring him of her substantiality and making him light-headed. Many minutes passed before he reluctantly loosed his hold and held her away from him. By the pale light, his eyes traced the beautiful lineaments of her face. The passion with which she regarded him in return set his blood coursing though his veins. "Come, let us sit," he managed to say, as he led her to the stone bench that held his hat. She followed willingly and sat beside him.
The Pentacle War: Book One - Hearts In Cups Page 7
