I must remember everything, Kassia thought as she gazed upward at the high vaulted cathedral, for someday I shall tell my grandchildren that I attended the coronation of King Edward the First of England. She avidly took in the gorgeously arrayed lords and ladies and the splendid stained-glass windows. All was overladen with religious solemnity. The prelates, their flowing robes as beautifully sewn as those of the king and queen, recited the ceremony in Latin, their voices hushed and reverent. Kassia leaned forward when Edward accepted his scepter and crown. All too soon, the ceremony was over. The new king and queen of England were whisked away, and the lords and ladies moved quietly out of the abbey. Kassia heard Graelam give a deep sigh of relief. She gazed up at him uncertainly, but he merely nodded at her, saying only, “At least our king is home. Now, Kassia, we will shuck all the religious trappings and you will meet Edward and Eleanor.”
She looks beautiful, Graelam thought, unconsciously comparing Kassia to the other noble ladies assembled in the huge lower chamber of the White Tower. “Do not look so awestruck,” he said quietly to her, “else everyone will believe you a country maid.”
“I am trying to memorize everything,” she said quite seriously.
“We will doubtless come to London again.”
She nodded, and spoke before she could censor her thought, “Aye, but this is the coronation. We will be able to tell our grandchildren about it.” Her hand flew to her mouth in consternation. She waited for his taunting response.
“I had not thought of that,” he said, his dark eyes suddenly opague. “Come, Kassia, there are many people for you to meet.”
It was indeed odd, Kassia thought after meeting so many lords and ladies, that her mouth seemed frozen into a permanent smile, but she had not felt at all intimidated as she had expected to. Graelam was playing the husband’s role well, pretending he was pleased to have all his friends meet his wife. And it was also the necklace, she thought. Although she hated its weight on her neck and all the pain it had brought her, it nonetheless gave her a very rich, slightly exotic appearance that, strangely, gave her confidence.
“By all that’s precious! Look what Cornwall has spit up, Chandra! My lord Graelam!”
Kassia raised her eyes to meet the merry blue ones of one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. He was nearly as tall as Graelam, wide of shoulder and lean of waist and hip. His hair was burnished gold and his face lightly tanned and exquisitely formed. Standing next to him was a very beautiful lady, the perfect mate for such a man. She felt suddenly skinny, ugly, and tongue-tied, her confidence utterly destroyed compared to this unbelievable creature with her long golden hair and her utterly perfect woman’s body.
“So you and Chandra have traveled from the northern wilds for the great occasion,” Graelam said, slapping the other man on his muscled arm. “Chandra,” he continued, his voice dropping slightly as he grasped her hand, “how is it you manage to appear more beautiful each time I see you?”
Chandra laughed lightly. “This beast, Jerval, has kept me off the practice field for the past month so I would not embarrass him at court with my bruises and scratches.”
Practice field. What, Kassia wondered blankly, was she talking about?
“I pray you will not believe that tale, Graelam,” Sir Jerval said, his long fingers lightly caressing his wife on her slender shoulder. “The only thing that has slowed her down at all was the birth of our son but four months ago.”
“I do not suppose,” Graelam said in a mock-pensive voice, “that you named the lad after me?”
“Not likely, Graelam,” Chandra said. “He is Edward. Jerval believed that there should be an Edward in London and one in Cumbria. I had no choice in the matter.”
“And for once she was flat on her back, too tired to argue with me,” Sir Jerval said. He lowered his voice to a lecherous whisper. “Of course, I learned that technique of gaining her compliance long ago.”
Kassia blinked at their banter, wishing Graelam would introduce her to these people, yet afraid of making a fool of herself if he did so. She felt so insignificant!
“The necklace! My God, Graelam, I had forgot all about it!”
It was as if, Kassia thought, her husband had just remembered her presence. “Aye,” he said easily, “ ’tis the same one, from Al-Afdal’s camp. And the little one wearing it is Kassia, my wife.”
Lady Chandra gasped, her expressive blue eyes widening in surprise. “Good heavens, Jerval, you and I now have a son, but Graelam has got himself a wife! My dear, I trust you buffet this great beast at least twice a day. He doubtless tries to play the tyrant over you.”
Kassia felt bereft of speech at this unexpected advice, but Lady Chandra continued smiling at her openly, and she gulped, and blurted out, “I suspect he is as much a tyrant as he ever was.”
“Kassia,” Graelam said, his voice clipped, “this is Sir Jerval de Vernon and his wife, Lady Chandra.”
“My wife,” Sir Jerval said kindly to Kassia, “is always offering advice that she herself ignores. She adores me so mightily that I am always having to lift her from her knees—”
Lady Chandra poked him in the ribs. “You are a fiend and a miserable liar, my lord! Pay him no heed, Kassia. He is like most men, crowing his conceit and praying others will believe him!”
“Ha!” Sir Jerval said.
Chandra ignored him, and continued to Kassia, “Has Graelam told you of our adventures in the Holy Land? How long ago it seems! The history of the necklace you are wearing is particularly . . . precarious. I had thought we would be saying our last prayers!”
“You tried to kill me, Chandra, then saved my miserable life,” Graelam complained ruefully. “Neither tale bears repeating, particularly to a wife who—” He broke off, not really knowing what he would have said, and fearing that it would show his bitterness.
“Well,” Chandra said comfortably, “I shall tell her all about it.”
“You . . . you tried to kill my husband?” Kassia asked.
She saw Chandra’s eyes fly to Graelam’s face.