Crossing Over - Anna Kendall [61]
Lord Robert said to the translator, “These savages will be of no use to us if they defeat the Blues but turn the queen’s own subjects against us!” His voice held a strange satisfaction, which in turn angered the queen.
She rose from her throne and descended the steps. Immediately all of us—but none of the savages—fell to both knees. She stood beside the chieftain in her green gown, its train spreading up the steps behind her, as the translator hissed, “Don’t take his hand, Your Grace! For the sake of heaven, do not touch him!”
She did not. Beside him, she looked tiny, although she was not a small woman. In a low, intimate voice she said, “Translate what I say exactly, Eammons. Exactly, word by word. ‘Lord Solek, I will speak frankly. Please forgive my ignorance of your customs. Your soldiers are manly and strong. My villagers are gentle. Do your soldiers’ discipline and restraint match their strength and their ability in war? ’”
“Your Grace—”
“Translate!”
He did. Lord Solek’s blue eyes darkened and his face went hard. I took a step backward, away from that look. Lord Robert’s hand went to his sword, but the queen did not flinch. Instead she looked up at him with a look I had never seen on her face—helpless, naked, feminine appeal. And then she curtsied.
A gasp went up from the advisors, the courtiers. Lord Robert put out one hand, as if to yank her upward from obeisance to anyone—she, the queen! But she had already straightened, her curtsy done but her beseeching look going on, eyes fastened onto Lord Solek, until he threw back his head and again gave that huge, rough laugh. He turned to his captains and gave a long speech. When he was done, each captain raised his left fist aloft for a moment before letting it drop.
“He said,” Eammons reported, “that his men will stay away from your villages.”
Lord Solek had said a great deal more than that. The promise of punishments if his savages did not obey? Of rewards if they did? And what had Queen Caroline promised in order to bring Lord Solek’s army here in the first place?
She said, “Tell Lord Solek that he is bid to come to dinner in my rooms at sunset. With whatever of his chiefs it is customary to bring. We have much to discuss.”
And still her dark eyes held his blue ones, and neither looked away.
18
THE BUSTLE OVER the dinner was enormous. It turned out that before the siege began, the queen had planned ahead and ordered certain foodstuffs sequestered for this entertainment. But it was only the beginning of spring and there were no fresh vegetables or fruit, only dried. No fresh meat, only salted or smoked. And the appalled cooks had only a few hours to prepare. “What do they even eat?” one wailed. “They are savages!”
“I heard they eat roasted rocks,” quavered a frightened kitchen maid, and the cook slapped her.
The queen had sent me to the kitchens on an errand. She was closeted in her privy chamber with Lord Robert and her three most important advisors, none of whom looked happy. Lord Solek had marched out with his men, singing and pounding cudgels on the floor as when they marched in. The pages had all been commandeered by the frantic steward, who was trying to have tables set up, entertainments arranged, and precedence established in the same few hours that upset the cooks. Ladies, courtiers, and musicians went from victims of siege to performers in a masque that must be instantly created. The palace seethed with hectic activity and with terrified conjecture about the “savages.” And I had been sent to the kitchens to tell the head cook that the translator, Eammons, had a delicate stomach and could eat only a few slices of chicken and a little thrice-ground bread.
“Chicken! There are no chickens left, boy! And where am I to get thrice-ground bread?” She reached out to cuff me, presumably because she could not cuff Eammons. I danced away from her and went to find Maggie.
She was frantically pouring wine over dried apples while kneading biscuits with her other hand. “How am I to make a dessert without sugar?”
“You’ll manage. Did