A Plague of Witches - Open Novella Contest 2021

Chapter Six - Revelry

(Header photo is the modern-day remainder of the Banqueting Hall of Whitehall, at Westminster)

Chapter Six

(Whitehall Palace, London)

Revelry

The days at Whitehall Palace seemed to flow by with the speed of a wildly coursing river, each passing day indiscernible from the last. Elinor filled her time with the other ladies of the court, focusing on her studies of the modern languages, embroidery, and the like and trying, where possible to escape to Whitehall's famed library. After all, Lady Francis was more likely to drop dead than allow either Elinor or Dorothy to relax their ladies' studies.

Nights at Whitehall, however, were growing surreal. As rumours spread of the Queen's treacherous condition, it appeared that King James was growing increasingly erratic. Among the ladies, there were tales that he had refused to sit with his Privy Council members to discuss the business of the state, declaring the Christmastime celebrations would start several weeks early when Advant had not yet ended. Yet the King did not weep nor worry for his bedridden wife, sequestered in her chambers. 

Rather, Whitehall had become a veritable carnival of distraction.

On a mid-week night where the sky outside had long since turned inky black, Elinor stood at the edge of Whitehall's sumptuous Banqueting Hall, now transformed into a dance floor, and watched the revelry before her. The Court was undoubtedly magnificent, the King having ordered it to be decorated with garlands of greenery, dried fruits and berries, and what felt like thousands flickering of candles. With all of the courtiers in attendance for nearly a month longer than was typically expected for the Advent and Christmas period, the Hall was packed, the heat growing unbearable.

The mummeries were elaborate, jesters and mummers weaving their way among the dancers as English ballads and madrigals played, keeping the mood lively and upbeat. The Court musicians played to the courtiers from the Minstrel's Gallery, a balcony into the great hall. They were hidden from view by a heavy red curtain, giving the impression that the melodies were a mystical presence, residing within them all and brought forth by their combined mirth.

It was nearing midnight and Dorothy had long since been sent to her chambers. It was the first liberty of her eighteenth year that Elinor had felt, to be permitted to stay at the nightly events by Lady Frances. She saw Lady Frances now, sipping the goblet of wine she had been nursing all evening as she laughed with Lady Rochford, another senior gentlewoman of the court whose cheeks were flushed from the heat and wine. Before long,  Elinor's eyes swept the room once again, and felt suddenly embarrassed to have caught herself in the act. She had spent the evening dancing, her feet sore and swollen, wondering if the young Earl, Robert Kerr, would join the festivities. He had not arrived and for all Elinor knew, he might have been permitted to leave Whitehall by the King whilst the rest of them hid from the outside world. Besides that, it remained that they had only spoken once.

Elinor had just made the decision to retire from the evening's events when a hand was outstretched before her, a head of dark curls bent low in deference. It was as though she had called him forth from thin air. Her breath caught in her throat.

"May I, Lady Devereux?" Robert Kerr asked, his voice low but somehow audible over the music, as though Elinor's own hearing was attuned to his voice above all other sounds.

Slowly, hesitantly, Elinor rested her hand in his, feeling the groove of a thick gold ring as he led her toward the dancers. When he turned to face her, a hand moving to her waist and the other holding her arm high, she saw the insignia of the ring. House Kerr's sigil, a sun rising over the mountains.