Lady Eilean

Chapter 53

On an exceptionally hot summer evening, a banquet raged in the great hall. I sat bored and restless as the drunken shouts of men and courtiers echoed through the thick, sweltering air. Fanning myself with my hand, I watched the disorderly scene devolve as men staggering on legs of ale attempted to clear the benches and tables to the side of the hall. They wanted to dance, apparently. How they would survive such activity without bodily injury was perplexing enough that I was willing to stick around to watch.

Father stood in the middle of the hoard, attempting to direct the operation as he emptied tankard after tankard. His face was mottled with a red flush and a sheen of sweat beaded on his brow and cheeks. Drool dripped from the corners of his mouth. It was grotesque and my heart ached to see it. Turning to my left, I shared a poignant stare with my mother. She glanced away, cheeks florid. Her lips pressed into a thin line and she shook her head.

Not here. I could almost hear her scold me.

She found such scenes such as the one before us, a necessary evil. A way for the men to blow off steam after years spent in life-or-death agony. I found the near-nightly parties and banquets cruel and embarrassing. They exploited the broken minds and spirits of wounded men. Neither of us could tolerate the other's opinion — though truth existed on both sides of the argument.

"Do you want to go?" Alex asked, muttering into my ear. He pinched his face in disgust. "I'm sure you've endured a long enough appearance for the populace to be appeased."

The heat of the room and the humiliation before me made me prickly. It stoked at the anger that simmered ever-present in my breast. I scoffed. "And miss all the fun?"

He chuckled sadly and rolled his eyes, "Right, we might miss another duel."

Groaning, I picked up my fan from the table and doubled my efforts for a breeze. A fortnight ago, there had been a challenge of honor in the great hall. No one had died, but the stabbing had been severe and the pool of blood ghastly to witness the next morning. Hungover and cursing my name, I forced the assailant to clean up his mess. The servants deserved better than mopping up the attempted murder. The man had been some great leader in my father's army and I was punished for disgracing him with scouring. I endured quite the dressing down, but I did not mind. I took my lashings and had Angus double the guard. By nightfall, all the weapons on castle grounds had been confiscated. That sparked yet another row.

A man trying to carry a bench longer than he was tall stumbled and fell, smacking his face into the hard stone floor with a crack that caused a collective cry to go up in the room. Laughing, eyes glassy from drink, he sat up. Holding aloft his two front teeth and beaming for all the world as if such a loss was a funny joke.

"I think that's all for me," I said as my stomach churned.

It was well past midnight, and I was ready to close my eyes against today's hellscape. And, if sleep could not save me, at least I could strip off my suffocating clothes and lie naked in the breeze.

"Thank god," Alex sighed, making the move to get up.

As I collected my things, the noise in the hall lowered, fading out into a tense silence. Looking up, I noticed everyone's attention was on the would-be dance floor. Laughter and suggestive hoots rang out, changing the tone of the crowd from drunk and disorderly to drunk and leering. Standing up to better see over the crowd, I spied John walking through the hall hand-in-hand with a dark-haired woman dressed in what was obviously a wedding gown.

Popping up beside me, Alex asked, "What is this?"

John stopped before Father and bowed. The woman curtsied. They made the same display of deference to my mother, sitting at the head table a seat down from where I stood.