Page 15 of Historical Hotties
The hall was full of such suggestions.
Everywhere one looked, there was something lavish and expensive– tapestries, furs and rugs on the floor instead of rushes, and even the tables themselves were massive, well-built pieces of furniture. Doncaster had a shipbuilder in Liverpool build the tables and he liked to joke that they could withstand a gale-force tempest.
Certainly, they could withstand a gang of drunken soldiers.
And then there was the food. Mounds of it. More food than Cassius had ever seen in one place, and that was saying a lot. He came from a family of men, hungry men who liked to eat, and the king would have lavish feasts regularly that were nothing compared to what he was looking at now– savory baked egg dishes with prunes and wine and meat, subtleties that were in the shapes of castles and serpents, puddings, breads, giant boiled knuckles of beef, and so much more.
Old Cuffy did, indeed, produce an epicurean delight.
Cassius was given a seat next to the duke while Bose and Rhori were seated across from him. The table was so wide that they may as well have been across the hall, for they couldbarely hear the conversation between Cassius and the duke and wouldn’t have been able to hear it at all had it not been for the fact that the duke was hard of hearing and Cassius had to practically shout in a room that was not conducive to audible nuances. In truth, it was a giant echo chamber, and that made the buzz of conversation somewhat overwhelming.
“The last time you were here, I dare say that you did not partake of the feast,” Doncaster was saying over the terrible acoustics. “As I recall, you prowled around the hall like a cat, watching for any threats against our illustrious king.”
Cassius nodded. “That is my position, your grace,” he said. “Wherever the king goes, I am usually relegated to roaming whatever chamber he is in, ensuring his safety. Once it is secure, I will stand behind him. I am sure that did not escape your notice, either.”
The old duke shook his head, his white hair thin but fluffy. It looked like a dandelion head. “Probably not,” he said, taking a drink of his wine. “I do not miss much, but these days, I find myself giving over to a lack of caring sometimes.”
“Your grace?”
He was asking for clarification and Doncaster shrugged. “What I mean to say is that I am old,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling. “Nothing much frightens me any longer. I do not pay close attention to people like I used to. That kind of vigilance is for the young. Truth be told, I am resigned to what comes.”
“What comes, your grace?”
“Death.”
“Are you ill, your grace? The king will wish to know.”
But Doncaster waved him off. “Not ill,” he said. “Simply… old. Everyone I love has moved on to the next adventure. I have always believed death is the next adventure, you know. I had a priest tell me once that he believes death is merely a transition to another type of existence. That is not what the church tells us,mind you, but this priest was a radical. He believed there was a great life after this one and everyone we ever loved was waiting for us there.”
Cassius found himself in an unexpectedly philosophical conversation. “Of course they are, your grace,” he said. “It is my belief that heavenisthat next adventure.”
“Who do you look forward to seeing in your next adventure, Sir Cassius?”
That wasn’t a difficult question. “My grandfather, William de Wolfe,” he said. “We lost him a few years ago and I miss him every day.”
“Ah, yes,” Doncaster said. “The great Wolfe of the Border. I was a very young man when he was rising to power in the north. We would hear great stories of feats.”
“They were all true.”
Doncaster grinned. “I have no doubt,” he said. Then, he sighed. “As for me, I look forward to seeing my father and grandfather, too. And my wife and son. But I cannot go just yet.”
“You have unfinished business, your grace?”
The old man nodded. “My granddaughter,” he said. “She must marry before I go and that will be a difficult task.”
Now, they were on to the subject of the mysterious granddaughter and Cassius collected his wine up, drinking of the fine and sweet wine from Bordeaux. “Forgive me, your grace, but I did not even know you had a granddaughter,” he said. “I have attended the king in many feasts and festivals and never once have I seen Doncaster’s heir. It is a great legacy she bears.”
Doncaster sat back in his chair, putting a leg up on the feasting table and kicking aside one of the many dishes on the tabletop. But he didn’t seem to care as the dish fell off and the dogs under the table scrambled to eat up the mess.
“She does,” he said, sounding weary and resigned. “It all rests upon her. In truth, I pity her. She has over two hundred years ofa legacy weighing down on her. No brothers or siblings to help share the burden. ’Tis only her.”
Cassius sensed great regret in his tone. Not remorse for what he’d burdened his granddaughter with, but perhaps it was more of the simple fact that she had been born female. A male heir would have brought pride from the old man. But a female heir… it wasn’t pride Cassius heard.
It was disappointment.
“I am sure she is a strong and educated woman, your grace,” Cassius said. Frankly, he was unsure what to say at all given the old man’s obvious mood. “Why is it we have not seen her at the many festivals and gatherings of the nobility?”
The duke looked at him. He’d had a goodly amount of wine and very little food, so he was feeling his drink. He sat forward in his chair, looking Cassius in the eyes.
