The Wise Women

Chapter 25

Dignified and regal, dignified and regal.

Nesta repeated the words in her head as she lowered herself onto the finely carved mahogany chair at the head of the Royal Table. Lettie crouched to arrange her train on the floor around her seat.

The Royal Table ran the length of the Banqueting Hall's far wall underneath a vast triple arched window. It was reserved for the Empress, her ladies-in-waiting and selected advisers.

Guests and courtiers took their places at the two long tables that ran down either side of the room – the women on the left, the men on the right. King Otto and his men slid into the seats closest to the royal table, shoulders hunched, eyes darting nervously this way and that.

The Banqueting Hall had been decorated elaborately. The walls were decked with boughs of holly and wreaths of mistletoe. Arrangements of yellow roses culled from the castle's formal gardens amidst sprigs of dark green foliage ornamented the tables at regular intervals and above them hung hundreds of candles in silver chandeliers.

The room fell silent. All eyes were trained in her direction.

Oh Goddess! What am I supposed to do now?

She fixed her face into a mask of haughty superiority and glanced round the room looking for a clue. Along the walls, servants in royal blue tunics with a white letter S embroidered at the breast stood, holding carafes of wine.

Ah yes. She remembered what Elaine had told her and raised her ruby-studded silver goblet. The servants stepped forward and poured wine for everyone.

'Let the feasting begin!' She held her goblet aloft.

'Long live the Empress!' they chorused in reply. Nesta lifted the cup to her lips only to have it snatched away by the rosy-cheeked lady-in-waiting who was sitting on her right.

'My lady!' she exclaimed in horror, then lifted the cup to her own lips and sipped.

The Empress is terrified of being poisoned. She never eats or drinks anything that hasn't first been tasted by one of her ladies-in waiting.

Rosy Cheeks swilled the wine round her mouth. Her eyes took on a faraway look as she tasted it for the bitterness of poison. When she was convinced it was safe, she swallowed, nodded her head and handed the goblet back to the Empress.

'Thank you . . .' still the name wouldn't come, '. . . very much,' she said. The nameless lady-in-waiting looked at her askance, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Oops! I bet the Empress doesn't usually thank people.

Just then a servant appeared at her shoulder and began spooning ladlefuls of bright green soup into the gold-edged porcelain bowl in front of her. While Rosy Cheeks dipped in a spoon and sampled the soup, Nesta's eyes travelled over the room. The Stormont courtiers kept up a low murmur of conversation as they slurped from silver spoons. Their purple-tuniced guests from Frailing sipped their soup in tense silence. Servants carried the empty soup tureens back to the kitchens.

'The soup is safe for royal consumption,' the taster pronounced. Nesta nodded and lifted her spoon to her mouth, scanning the men's table all the while for the malevolent face she had seen in the Wise Women's crystal the first time they had summoned the Empress.

There!

Her stomach lurched when she spotted it - the dark penetrating eyes under thick black eyebrows, high forehead, hooked nose, black hair and beard. She had a clear view of him - Lord Alaric - where he sat next to the party from Frailing, a black cloak draped around his shoulders held with a silver clasp shaped like a dagger. His soup was untouched.