The queen and her consort came to the dais and mounted up, she to sit on the throne, he to sit on the top step to her left. Her gaze swept across the crowd, and she raised a hand and said, "We are most pleased to have you join us in our celebration of new love." She beamed down at the consort, a man twenty years her junior, and he canted his head in obeisance. She batted her eyelashes and rattled the chain, the links of silver clinking softly.
Egil leaned over and whispered to Arin. "Adon! She treats him as if he were a pet dog."
Aiko, overhearing, shook her head. "Worse, for he is unmanned, as no pet dog would be."
Giggling, the queen stood and gestured left and right and commanded, "Let the celebration commence."
At these words, people began moving toward their assigned tables, Egil, Arin, Aiko, and Alos turning toward the one under the green flag sporting the white boar. As they took their places, the other guests at the table stared at the satin-gowned Dylvana and the leather-clad Ryodoan at hand. Egil introduced himself and the others, and received their names in return, though one of the seated ladies-the Baroness Stolz-gushed, "Oh, I've heard of you, Lady Arin. You are the Elven bard." She turned to Aiko. "And this must be the sword dancer."
Aiko growled under her breath, but held her peace.
At the baroness's side, a sour-faced man, Baron Stolz, leaned over and whispered to her in a voice all could hear, "Hush, my dear. An Elf if she wasn't, the queen's guests at all they would not be. But common entertainers these are."
Again, Aiko growled under her breath. Egil, though, sketched a bow to the baron and said, "I daresay, dear baron, we are not in any way 'common,' as you will no doubt discover in the days to come."
The baron huffed but made no reply.
In through the doorway, to much applause, marched the entertainers: strong men, jugglers, prestidigitators, acrobats and tumblers, wrestlers and dancers and buffoons. They circled the floor to be seen, and then marched back out the door.
Inward came thralls bearing platters laden with food: fresh-baked loaves of bread, roast pig and lamb and beef, grilled fowl and broiled fish, and stewed vegetables such as beans and red cabbage and peas and parsnips, and great bowls filled with grapes and pears and peaches. More thralls entered, these conveying pitchers of foaming ale and mead and wine to the tables, and Alos looked longingly at each and every one that passed by him, though Aiko prevented him from snagging any.
The boards were set and groaned beneath the weight of the feast, and the guests filled their trenchers with food and their goblets with their choices of drink, all but Alos, for although he could choose whatever he wished from among the food, Aiko would allow him only water or tea, even though he gazed at the other libations and whined, "Just a taste. A little taste. What can it hurt, eh?"
But Aiko was adamant, and Alos growled, "I'll be glad when we've got what we've come for and all of you are on your way. Then I'll do as I please."
Aiko glared at him, and Alos ducked his head and snatched up a joint of beef. But 'ere he could take a bite, Arin reached out and stopped him, saying, "Wait," and gestured toward the throne.
On the dais, servants set a small table beside the queen. And they laded her trencher with the food of her choice. They also set a trencher down beside Consort Delon, and placed in it food at her direction. They poured wine into golden goblets, and set one of these by Delon as well. Satisfied, the queen raised her chalice and called out, "Let us begin."
A lord stepped forth onto the floor and raised his own goblet on high, proclaiming, "To the queen!"
To the queen! came the response.
The queen stood. "Nay. Not to me, but to love instead."
"Are they not the same?" called out the lord.
Baron Stolz hissed under his breath. "Bah! Toadying fool. Careful if he is not, next he will be."
"To the queen and love," called out the lord, raising his goblet on high.
To the queen and love! came the response, followed by a cheer.
And at a sign from the simpering queen, all dug into their food… except for Delon, who only seemed to pick at his meal.
In through the doorway came three buffoons in garish makeup: the first one stepped across the amphitheater as if walking on an invisible tightrope high above the floor, his arms outstretched, his entire body wobbling and jerking this way and that as if for balance; the second buffoon walked to one side, half crouching and looking upward, his hands held out as if to catch the first should he fall; the third buffoon was enwrapped in a cloak and he walked to the left and behind the first. Just as they reached the center of the floor, the cloaked buffoon drew a slapstick out from beneath his cape and with a loud crack! whacked the rope walker on the behind, who, with a descending scream, staggered and spun and lurched to one side as if falling, while the catcher, with his arms outstretched, ran wobbling to save him, and they crashed into one another and collapsed in a heap as the crowd whooped in laughter, the cloaked buffoon roaring and laughing and pointing at his handiwork. Then the three buffoons began chasing one another 'round and 'round in a tight circle, one whaling away with an inflated pig's bladder, one with a slapstick, and one merely whooping and howling and leaping each time he was whacked, his garish mouth gaping wide with his bawling. The guests roared at such farce, the queen herself pounding the arms of her throne and hooting with joy. But purple-plumed Consort Delon merely smiled.
Finally, in file, they ran from the great hall, howling and whacking and battering. Resounding applause followed them out, and they popped back in to bow to the acclaim, only to be whacked at one and the same time by a very long slapstick wielded by a fourth garish buffoon as they bent low-to the delight of the crowd.
Next came a man and a woman juggling flaming batons, and they whirled and danced and flung the blazing wands back and forth, several in the air simultaneously.
They were followed in turn by wrestlers and acrobats and a strong man and other entertainers. At last, long into the night, Queen Gudrun the Comely ordered a halt to the proceedings and announced, "The time has come to hear Delon sing."
As the table and remains of the meal were cleared away from the dais and a silver-stringed lute was brought to Delon, Baroness Stolz leaned across to an elderly lady and said, "I hear she found him in Thol while visiting the Tower of Gudwyn the Fair, an ancestor of hers, I believe."
"Oh no, my dear," responded the dowager, Lady Klatsch, "I believe he was taken in a raid in West Gelen."
"Hmph," harrumphed Baron Stolz. "Just a commoner he is told am I. To the castle he came two months past, advantage to take. Burned like the others he will be- serves him right-though longer than any of them he has lasted."
Delon removed his tri-plumed lavender hat and set it on the steps. Then he took up the lute and strummed it once, gauging its state of tune. Satisfied, he turned to the queen. "Have you a request, milady?"
She leaned forward and smiled coyly. " 'The Lovers.' "
Delon bowed. "As you will, my queen."
Once again he sat at her feet, then he began to sing, his voice gentle when the words were gentle, and sweet when they were sweet, strong and vibrant as called for, and whispery at need. The guests all sat silent, no coughs, no rustle of movement, no shuffling of feet, as his singing filled the hall. And the queen sat transfixed, her eyes drinking in the sight of him, her hands gripping the arms of the throne until her knuckles shone white, her breath coming in short gasps followed by prolonged sighs.