was but one obvious course. Philippa decisively mopped up a dab of honey paste with the last morsel of her bread, and decided to approach the Queen tomorrow on the matter of Katherine's marriage, no matter how ill the poor lady might be. Symkyn-at-Woode, one of the sergeants-at-arms, would do. He was a bluff, hearty soul, widowered twice over, so would have experience enough to keep a giddy young wife in line.
Philippa's plans for Katherine were destined to be thwarted. No sooner had the royal family arisen and filed out to their own apartments, thus releasing the rest of the company, than the two young men from across the Hall darted over to present themselves. Geoffrey performed the introductions. "Sir Hugh Swynford, Sir Roger de Cheyne - the Damoiselle de Roet."
"Those beautiful eyes that slay me with cruel arrows I have seen once before," said Roger softly in French to Katherine. "More enchanting now even than in the little convent parlour. I've longed to see you again, ma tout belle"
Katherine felt a sharp pinch on her arm and heard Philippa give a warning cough, so that, though she flushed and her heart beat fast with pleasure, she lowered her lids and did not answer. He was more charming than ever, she thought, with his red lips and warm brown eyes. She contrived to look up at him through her lashes with an artless coquetry, seductive enough to the experienced Roger but entirely devastating to the other man, the florid, scowling Sir Hugh, at whom she had not even glanced.
Geoffrey had drawn back a little and was watching them all with a cocked eyebrow and his air of quiet amusement, but Philippa, aware of turgid currents that were quite out of place, was not amused at all.
"You speak gallantly to my sister, Sir Roger," she said, stonily. "You must not tease her, she's very ignorant." As Roger paid no attention to Philippa but continued to gaze amorously at Katherine, Philippa threw her betrothed a beseeching lock.
Geoffrey came to her rescue. "You have recently married, I think, Sir Knight," he said, bowing to Roger. "How do you leave your lady wife?"
"Oh," whispered Katherine involuntarily. She twisted her fingers tight in a fold of her velvet gown, feeling that her disappointment burned on her face like a brand.
"Why, she's well enough," said Roger lightly. "She stays on the manor, of course, since she is enceinte. Ma damoiselle" - he smiled at Katherine - ''will you not come out in the pleasaunce with me? There's a troupe of jugglers and a performing bear you might like to see."
Before Philippa could voice her sharp interdiction, Katherine raised her eyes and said quietly, "No, thank you, Sir Roger. I'm journey-tired. I've been travelling for days."
There was a sudden mature dignity in her low voice that startled all of them. Roger, who was accustomed to over-easy conquests, laughed good-humouredly and his melting eyes caressed her with added interest. Geoffrey thought, Good, the beautiful country mouse is not so simple after all. Philippa gave a relieved grunt and said briskly, "Well, then, let's go to bed. By your leave, sirs, may we pass."
But it was not Roger who blocked the way. It was the other knight, Hugh Swynford. "Damoiselle," he said, swaying a little and frowning at Katherine, "I shall escort you safely across the courtyard, by God."
His speech was thick, with a heavy pause between each word, and Katherine, despite her dismay over Roger and the repulsion she felt for this other knight, had a momentary desire to giggle. He must be drunk, she thought, this scowling lout with the ram's-wool hair.
"By all means, Sir Hugh," said Geoffrey. "Let's all see the ladies to their staircase."
"And sing as we go," laughed Roger. "Ma belle amie, que voit la rose" he carolled, taking Katherine's arm, while Hugh strode silently on the other side.
Chaucer and his betrothed followed behind, since the knight's rank must precede them from the Hall. "This is most interesting," he said to Philippa, watching the
Philippa's plans for Katherine were destined to be thwarted. No sooner had the royal family arisen and filed out to their own apartments, thus releasing the rest of the company, than the two young men from across the Hall darted over to present themselves. Geoffrey performed the introductions. "Sir Hugh Swynford, Sir Roger de Cheyne - the Damoiselle de Roet."
"Those beautiful eyes that slay me with cruel arrows I have seen once before," said Roger softly in French to Katherine. "More enchanting now even than in the little convent parlour. I've longed to see you again, ma tout belle"
Katherine felt a sharp pinch on her arm and heard Philippa give a warning cough, so that, though she flushed and her heart beat fast with pleasure, she lowered her lids and did not answer. He was more charming than ever, she thought, with his red lips and warm brown eyes. She contrived to look up at him through her lashes with an artless coquetry, seductive enough to the experienced Roger but entirely devastating to the other man, the florid, scowling Sir Hugh, at whom she had not even glanced.
Geoffrey had drawn back a little and was watching them all with a cocked eyebrow and his air of quiet amusement, but Philippa, aware of turgid currents that were quite out of place, was not amused at all.
"You speak gallantly to my sister, Sir Roger," she said, stonily. "You must not tease her, she's very ignorant." As Roger paid no attention to Philippa but continued to gaze amorously at Katherine, Philippa threw her betrothed a beseeching lock.
Geoffrey came to her rescue. "You have recently married, I think, Sir Knight," he said, bowing to Roger. "How do you leave your lady wife?"
"Oh," whispered Katherine involuntarily. She twisted her fingers tight in a fold of her velvet gown, feeling that her disappointment burned on her face like a brand.
"Why, she's well enough," said Roger lightly. "She stays on the manor, of course, since she is enceinte. Ma damoiselle" - he smiled at Katherine - ''will you not come out in the pleasaunce with me? There's a troupe of jugglers and a performing bear you might like to see."
Before Philippa could voice her sharp interdiction, Katherine raised her eyes and said quietly, "No, thank you, Sir Roger. I'm journey-tired. I've been travelling for days."
There was a sudden mature dignity in her low voice that startled all of them. Roger, who was accustomed to over-easy conquests, laughed good-humouredly and his melting eyes caressed her with added interest. Geoffrey thought, Good, the beautiful country mouse is not so simple after all. Philippa gave a relieved grunt and said briskly, "Well, then, let's go to bed. By your leave, sirs, may we pass."
But it was not Roger who blocked the way. It was the other knight, Hugh Swynford. "Damoiselle," he said, swaying a little and frowning at Katherine, "I shall escort you safely across the courtyard, by God."
His speech was thick, with a heavy pause between each word, and Katherine, despite her dismay over Roger and the repulsion she felt for this other knight, had a momentary desire to giggle. He must be drunk, she thought, this scowling lout with the ram's-wool hair.
"By all means, Sir Hugh," said Geoffrey. "Let's all see the ladies to their staircase."
"And sing as we go," laughed Roger. "Ma belle amie, que voit la rose" he carolled, taking Katherine's arm, while Hugh strode silently on the other side.
Chaucer and his betrothed followed behind, since the knight's rank must precede them from the Hall. "This is most interesting," he said to Philippa, watching the
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