Marrok

Chapter 7

"So, Lord Baine, have you settled the matter that required your utmost attention?" asked Saul sitting with his arms tightly crossed against his chest.

"It's not your business Saul," Marrok stood firm.

"If you mean White Haven, I would agree," retorted Saul. "For, in the end, you will be its master, and I, your humble servant," he continued, mockingly. "But, if you refer to a friend's happiness, then it is my business. And by 'friend', I mean you Marrok."

"Don't bring rank into this Saul, you know it'll never be like that between us. You've always been my friend and you'll never be my servant. I'm glad you've found something special with Mary, but for me, it's not that simple."

"You've changed since you returned from that bloody crusade, you've changed," Saul was incensed. "Jane was upset when you left, believing you think ill of her."

"That's not true."

"If it's not, you need to tell her so."

"She'll think ill of me when she learns the truth," Marrok looked despondent.

"Why? Why would anyone think that of you?"

Marrok sat down on his bedding and laid his head in his hands. Saul went and sat next to him, his face etched with concern, waiting for a response. Eventually, Marrok raised his head, his face drained of colour, and turned to Saul. "When I thought I lost Jane's interest I took solace in another," Marrok admitted.

Saul tried to remain serious, but part of him wanted to laugh. He found it difficult to believe that his honourable friend who had fought against the prospect of a relationship with a woman was now in the quarry of interest from two women at once. "Who is she," Saul finally asked.

"Swear you will not speak of it if I tell you."

"Bloody hell Marrok," Saul laughed nervously. "Don't tell me it's the King's new mistress."

"I wish it was."

"I swear." Saul placed his hand on his heart and looked expectantly at Marrok.

"Lady Seren Gill."

A loud crack of thunder resounded around them drowning out Saul's response.

                                            ................................................

Guests at the King's feast were grateful to be out of the deluge of rain that had continued throughout the afternoon into the early evening. Tonight they gathered in the Royal Banquet Hall, sitting at a vast table to celebrate their King's victories in the crusade with a sumptuous feast. Slaves captured during the crusade bolstered the numerous servants that rallied, filling goblets with wine from White Haven and laying platter upon platter of food before the guests.

The smell of roasted suckling pigs filled the air as four servants carried each, five in total, to the serving table set behind the King and his family. the rich smell of quail and duck followed as a long line of servants carried them upon large platters to surround the succulent pigs with decorated fouls.

Large, solid gold rings hung from the ceiling full of flickering candles, their smoke wisping amongst the ornately carved wooden vaults that spanned the ceiling. The light danced upon polished pewter goblets as they were filled with wine in readiness for the King to make his speech.

The King rose from a white marble chair, cushioned with azure blue velvet and a young boy was given a nod to sound a gong that reverberated around the hall, silencing everyone within it. The King was in fine shape for his aging years, a keen and practiced warrior. A satin sash draped across his broad chest under the heavy weight of a gold medallion that shone like the sun as it caught in the light. His keen green eyes, under his grey bushy brow, surveyed the room, demanding attention.