The company fell to with gusto, and Rod's stomach reminded him that all that had hit his digestive tract that night had been spiced wine.
Catharine picked daintily at her food with the original bird-like appetite. Rumor had it that she ate just before the formal meal in the privacy of her apartments. Even so, she was so thin that Rod found it in himself to doubt the rumor.
The stewards wove in and out with flagons of wine and huge meat pies.
Rod was stationed at the east door; he thus had a good view of Catharine, where she sat at the north end of the table, Milord Loguire at her right hand, Durer, at Loguire's right hand, and the back of Brom O'Berin's head.
Durer leaned over and murmured something to his lord. Loguire waved a hand impatiently and nodded. He tore the meat off a chop with one bite, chewed, swallowed, and washed it down with a draft of wine. As he lowered the cup to the table, he turned to Catharine and rumbled, "Your Majesty, I am concerned."
Catharine gave him the cold eye. "We are all concerned, Milord Loguire. We must bear with our cares as well as we may."
Loguire's lips pressed tight together, his mouth almost becoming lost between moustache and beard. "My care," he said, "is for your own person, and for the welfare of your kingdom."
Catharine turned back to her plate, cutting a morsel of pork with great care. "I must hope that the welfare of my person would indeed affect the welfare of my kingdom."
Loguire's neck was growing red; but he pushed on obstinately. "I am glad that your Majesty sees that a threat to your welfare is a threat to this kingdom."
The skin furrowed between Catharine's eyebrows; she frowned at Loguire. "Indeed I do."
"Knowing that the Queen's life is threatened, the people grow uneasy."
Catharine put down her fork and sat back in her chair. Her voice was mild, even sweet. "Is my life, then, threatened, milord?"
"It would seem so," Loguire murmured carefully. "For the banshee was upon your roof again last night."
Rod's ears pricked up.
Catharine's lips turned in, pressed between her teeth; her eyes closed. Silence fell around the table. Brom O'Berin's voice rumbled into the sudden quiet. "The banshee hath often been seen upon her Majesty's battlements; yet still she lives."
"Be still!" Catharine snapped at him. Her shoulders straightened; she leaned forward to take up her goblet. "I do not wish to hear of the banshee." She drained the goblet, then held it out to the side. "Steward, more wine!"
Durer was out of his seat and at the Queen's elbow in an instant. Plucking the goblet from her hand, he turned to the steward who had come running up. He held the goblet up while the steward filled it from his ewer and the court stared; such courtesy to the Queen was, from Durer, somewhat unusual.
He swung back to the Queen, dropping to one knee and holding up the goblet. Catharine stared, then slowly accepted it. "I thank you, Durer; yet must I confess that I had not expected such courtliness from you."
Durer's eyes glinted. He rose with a mocking smile and bowed very low. "Drink deep in health, my Queen."
But Rod was a trifle less trusting than Catharine; moreover, he had seen Durer pass his left hand over the goblet just before the steward poured.
He left his post and caught the goblet just as Catharine raised it to her lips. She stared at him, face paling, rage rising in her eyes. "I did not summon you, sirrah."
"Your Majesty's pardon." Rod undipped his dagger from his belt, shook the blade out onto the table, and filled the conical sheath with wine. Thank Heaven he'd taken the precaution of resetting Fess before he went on duty!
He held up the silver horn and said, "IconFess, with apologies to your Majesty, that I cannot analyze my actions; it is only that I fear for your Majesty's life."
But all Catharine's anger had vanished in fascination at Rod's action. "What," she said, pointing to the silver horn, "is that?"
"Unicorn's horn," Rod answered, and looked up to see Durer's eyes, burning with rage at him.
"Analysis complete," murmured the voice behind his ear." Substance poisonous to human metabolism."
Rod smiled grimly and pressed the knob at the apex of the horn with his little finger.
The "unicorn's horn" turned purple.
A gasp of horror went up from the whole court; for they all knew the legend, that a unicorn's horn will turn purple if poison is placed in it.
Catharine turned pale; she clenched her fists to conceal their trembling.
Loguire's hand balled into a huge fist; his eyes narrowed as he glared atDurer. "Slight man, if any part of this treachery was yours…"
"Milord, you saw." Durer's voice crackled. "I but held the cup."
But his burning eyes were fixed on Rod's, seeming to suggest that Rod could save himself a lot of trouble and agony if he would just drink the wine right there and then.
Rod was assigned as one of the four guards who would escort Catharine from her apartments to the Great Hall for the General Court. The four of them waited outside her chambers till the door opened, and Brom O'Berin stepped out, preceding the Queen. Two soldiers fell in before the Queen and behind Brom; Rod and another Guardsman fell in behind her.
They moved down the corridor slowly, matching their pace to Catharine's; and the Queen, draped in a heavy fur cloak and weighed down by the great gold crown, moved very slowly. Somehow, she contrived to look stately rather than clumsy.
As they drew near the Great Hall, a slight, emaciated, velvet-clad figure came scurrying up— Durer.
"Your pardon," he said, bowing three times, "but I must speak with your Majesty." His lips were pressed tight, anger in his eyes.
Catharine stopped and drew herself up to her haughtiest.
Chip on her shoulder as large as a two-by-four, Rod thought.
"Speak, then," she said, looking down her nose at the cringing little man before her; "but speak quickly, sirrah."
Durer's eyes flared at the word of contempt; "sirrah" was a term reserved for peasants.
He managed to keep his manner respectful, though. "Your Majesty, I beg you to brook no delay in hearing the Great Lords' petition, for they are most greatly overwrought."
Catharine frowned. "Why should I delay?"
Durer bit his lip, looking away.
Catharine's eyes kindled in anger. "Speak, sirrah," she snapped. "Or do you mean to imply that the Queen fears to hear her noblemen?"
"Your Majesty… Durer spoke with great reluctance; then the words came in a rush. "I had heard there were two peasants to be heard in Court today…"
"There are." Catharine's mouth hardened. " Tis the case you recommended to me, Durer.'*
The little man's eye shot a malevolent gleam at her; then he was all fawning humility again. "I had thought… I had heard… I had feared…"
"What hast thou feared?"
"Your Majesty hath been most concerned for your peasants of late…" Durer hesitated, then stumbled on. "I had feared… that your Majesty might… perhaps…"
Catharine's eyes hardened. "That I might hear these two peasants before I gave ear to the petitions of my noblemen?"
"Your Majesty must not!" Durer dropped to his knees, hands clasped in supplication. "Thou must not risk offense of the Great Lords today! Fear for thy very life if thou—"
"Sirrah, do you call me coward?"
Rod closed his eyes; his heart sank.
"Your Majesty," cried Durer, "I meant but to—"
"Enough!" Catharine turned away, spurning the meager form of the councillor. Brom O'Berin and the Guardsmen moved with her. The great oaken doors swung open before them.
Rod risked a glance back over his shoulder.
Durer's face was contorted with malevolent glee; his eyes glittered with triumph.
The best way to get a teenager to do something is to tell her not to…