The music was beautiful and strangely haunting. Its melody filled the great hall with a radiance that blended well with the glow of the fireplace and candles. After the setting of the sun, the windows turned to black mirrors and the mood became more intimate. Consoled with food, drink, and music, Hadrian forgot his circumstance and began to enjoy himself—until the Earl of Chadwick nudged him back to reality.
“Are you entered in the joust?” he asked. From his tone and glassy eyes, Hadrian could tell Archibald Ballentyne had started drinking long before the feast.
“Ah, yes—yes I am, sir—I mean, Your Lordship.”
“Then you might be riding against my champion Sir Breckton over there.” He waved a limp hand across the table. “He’s also competing in the joust.”
“Then I don’t stand much of a chance.”
“No, you don’t,” the earl said. “But you must do your best. There will be a crowd to please.” The earl leaned over in a confidential manner. “Now tell me, was what Saldur told us true?”
“I would never dispute the word of a regent,” Hadrian replied.
Archibald guffawed. “I think the phrase you were actually looking for is ‘never trust the word of a regent.’ Did you know they promised me Melengar and then just like that…” The earl attempted to snap his fingers. “… like that…” He attempted again. “… like…” He failed yet a third time. “Well, you know what I mean. They took away what they promised me. So you can see why I’m skeptical. That bit about the empress expecting you, was that true?”
“I have no idea, my lord. How could I know?”
“So you haven’t met her? The empress, I mean?”
Hadrian paused, remembering a young girl named Thrace. “No, I haven’t actually met the empress. Shouldn’t she be seated up there?”
The earl scowled. “They leave the throne vacant in her honor. She never dines in public. To be honest, I’ve lived in this palace for half a year and have only seen her on three occasions: once in the throne room, once when she addressed the public, and once when I… Well, what matters is she never seems to leave her room. I often wonder whether the regents are keeping her prisoner up there. I should have her kidnapped—free the poor girl.”
Archibald sat up and said, more to himself than to Hadrian, “That’s what I should do, and there’s just the man I need to talk to.” Plucking a walnut from the centerpiece, he threw it down the table at Albert.
“Viscount Winslow,” he shouted with more volume than necessary. “I haven’t seen you in quite some time.”
“No, indeed, Your Lordship. It has been far too long.”
“Are you still in contact with those two… phantoms of the night? You know, the magicians that can make letters disappear and who are equally adept at saving doomed princesses from tower prisons?”
“I’m sorry, Your Lordship, but after what they did to you, I terminated my connection with them.”
“Yes… what they did…” the earl slurred while looking into his cup. “What they did was put Braga’s head in my lap! While I was sleeping, no less! Did you know that? It was a most disagreeable awakening, I tell you.” He trailed off, mumbling to himself.
Hadrian bit his lip.
“I had no idea. You have my sincere apology,” Albert said with genuine surprise, which was lost on the earl, who had tilted his head back to take another swallow of wine.
New musicians entered and began playing a formal tune as gentlemen, including Gilbert and Elgar, took the hands of ladies and led them to the dance floor. Hadrian had no idea how to dance. Nimbus had not even tried to instruct him. The Duke and Duchess of Rochelle also left to join in. A clear line of sight opened between Hadrian and Albert.
“So, Sir Hadrian, is it?” the viscount asked, shifting down to take Lady Genevieve’s vacated chair. “Is this your first time in the banquet hall?”
“Indeed, it is.”
“The palace is large and has an impressive history. I’m sure that during your recent recovery you’ve not had an opportunity to visit much of it. If you aren’t planning to dance, I’d be happy to give you a tour. There are some fine paintings and frescoes on the second floor that are exquisite.”
Hadrian glanced at the men still watching him.
“I’m sure they are, Viscount, but I think it might be rude to leave the feast so early. Our hosts might look poorly on me for doing so.” He motioned toward the head table, where Saldur and Ethelred sat. “I wouldn’t want to incur their disfavor so early in the celebrations.”
“I understand completely. Have you found your accommodations at the palace to your liking?”
“Yes, indeed. I have my own room in the knights’ wing. Regent Saldur has been most generous, and I have nothing to complain about as far as my quarters are concerned.”
“So you have reason to complain otherwise?” Albert inquired.
Carefully choosing his words, Hadrian replied, “Not a complaint, really. I am merely concerned about my performance in the coming tournament. I am going to be competing against many renowned knights, such as Sir Breckton here. It is extremely important that I do well in the joust. Some very distinguished people will be watching the outcome quite closely.”
“You should not be so concerned,” Breckton mentioned. “If you are true to the knight’s code, Maribor will guide you. What others may think has no weight on the field. The truth is the truth, and you know whether you live in accord with it or not. From this you will draw your strength or weakness.”
“Thank you for your kind words, but I am not merely riding for myself. A success in this tournament will change the fortunes of those I care about as well… my, ah, retinue.”
Albert nodded.
Sir Breckton leaned forward. “You are that concerned about the reputation of your squires and grooms?”
“They are as dear to me as family,” Hadrian responded.
“That is most admirable. I can’t say I have ever met a knight so concerned with the well-being of those who serve him.”
“To be honest, sir, it is mainly for their welfare that I ride. I only hope they do nothing to dishonor me, as some of them are prone to poor judgment—rash and risky behavior—usually on my behalf, of course. Still, in this instance, I prefer they would merely enjoy the holiday.”
Albert gave another nod and drained the last of his wine.
Ballentyne took another drink as well. He swallowed, burped loudly, and then slouched with his elbow on the table, resting a palm against his cheek. Hadrian surmised that it would not be long before the earl passed out completely.