A Lily on the Heath 4 Read Free Page B

and Ursula giggled. “Nay, Judith, you know I jest. ’Tis your lively conversation that keeps me lingering at table more oft than not. But I do not jest when I remind you that you are a valuable prize for any man who wishes power, wealth, or influence with her majesty. Now tell me true—did you bring chaperones with you today when you went beyond the walls of the castle, or did you not?”
    “Tessing accompanied me, as did Holbert and Piall,” she told him. “I might have an energetic tongue, but I’m not a fool.”
    “I have never counted you as a fool, Lady Judith,” he told her. The concern in his eyes eased.   “I’m glad to know you took no chances. Now, ’tis your turn to select a topic of conversation, for I mean to apply myself to this meal.” He was watching the line of serfs coming from the kitchen, carrying trays and platters.
    “Very well then. Mayhap you’ll tell us what you know of the lately come Lord Warwick. Lady Ursula and I are quite curious.” She smiled secretly at the young, unwed Ursula—for she knew her companion was curious about the newcomer for a very different reason than Judith might be.
    A serf pushed between the two rows of benches, setting a platter of small roasted quails down on their table, then another on the next table. Then followed a wooden tray with more thick slices of bread, and Hugh, always the courtier, snatched up three of them and put one on his, Judith’s and Ursula’s plates as he said, “Ah, aye, Warwick. He’s just arrived today—and why should I not be surprised that you wish to know all the gossip, Judith, my dear? If there was ever a woman who knew more of what goes on in this court than the queen, ’twould be you.” He grinned again.
    Judith passed him the dish of quail stewed in wine and mushrooms, and he scooped out generous servings for her and Ursula before serving himself, pouring the fowl over their bread trenchers. “And who is my best source but you,” she said, passing the stew across to Alynne.
    “I’ve not met Warwick personally.” Hugh glanced up at the man in question and studied the unkempt lord for a moment, using his eating knife to spear a small piece of quail. “By the rood, if the man can shave his face, then he could surely have his hair trimmed,” he murmured, chewing thoughtfully. “In truth, Judith, I know little of the man. But why do you ask me?” he said, turning on her with suddenly sharp eyes. “Was he not of an age with Gregory? Surely they knew each other.”
    “Aye, they fostered together at Kentworth.” Before she could finish her thought, the king rose from his seat. He was wiping his hands with a cloth, and as the hall settled into expectant silence, he handed the rag to one of the pages who stood at attendance behind the high table.
    “This night we have been gifted with the presence of the jongleur Duchande, and he has offered to entertain us this evening. The tables shall be moved back and the rondelets and estampies shall commence!”
    A roar of approval filled the hall, and the serfs and pages moved quickly to pull tables away from the dais. This left an empty space large enough for two dozen or more people to dance. Judith climbed eagerly over the bench, gathering her skirts with her, as several of her friends vacated their finished meals as well.  
    “The last time we danced was on Easter,” said Lady Ursula, her eyes sparkling. “I hope I remember the steps for the estampie .”
    “’Tis very simple,” Judith told her, catching Ursula’s hand on the left and Alynne’s on the right. They were forming a large circle, or rondele . “Follow the music, and stamp your foot on the third count, then hop on the fourth. Ah, you’ll remember once the music begins.”
    And so it began. Duchande the jongleur wasn’t traveling alone, for though he played the psaltery, another of his companions played kettledrums and another had a wooden flute. As Judith hopped and stamped and promenaded through