Free Count Scar - SA by C. Dale Brittain, Robert A. Bouchard Page B

murmured in my ear as he turned me around to present me formally to all his other sworn men.
    A separate dining chamber, adjacent to the great hall, had already been prepared, and we all proceeded in. White candles flickered, sending light dancing across silver serving platters. The duke's chamberlain moved unobtrusively among us, directing each toward the tables chosen for us. I ended up at the high table with the duke and his daughter Arsendis.
    Brother Melchior brushed against my elbow again. He seemed able to move quickly and quietly even in a crowd. "I shall not stay for dinner," he said in a low voice. "I have had more than enough of the duke's court over the years and shall spend the night at the little priory my Order
    maintains outside the castle walls." I glanced up and saw the duke's own capellanus at the door, apparently also ready to leave. Melchior started to turn away but then turned back. "Thierri is deliberately trying to provoke you. Do not give him the satisfaction of it, but turn the other cheek."
    Though I was pleased at his concern for me, I was not worried about Thierri. We would both be weaponless out in the duke's courtyard, but I was, I judged, much stronger than he. Instead I turned my attention to the duke's excellent dinner.
    There were as many courses as at any dinner I had ever eaten at the emperor's court, beginning with roast geese, their feathers reassembled around them to make them appear lifelike on the platter, and proceeding through fried eggs, baked garlic and leeks, lemon sherbet, boiled beef with turnips, roast pork—the meat again reassembled into the body's original shape, a glaze of honey and bits of lemon peel providing the appearance of skin and bristle and the boar's head itself glaring at us from the end of the platter—milk pudding, spiced honey cakes, and chestnuts.
    Arsendis, seated at my elbow, entertained me while we ate with highly moral tales from antiquity, similar to the stories taught me as a boy in the emperor's court, and inquired graciously how I was finding fife at Peyrefixade. Although she was attentive, there was none of the warmth in her manner I thought I had seen her show to the older lord, but then he was seated just a short distance away and watching us.
    The duke had indeed provided his guests with dinner knives—sharpened only along one side—and even with dinner forks, small versions of serving forks such I had never seen used before, but which enabled one to immobilize the meat while cutting it, far more gracefully than using one's fingers. The tiny dish from which Arsendis and I dipped salt with our littlest fingers was plated with gold. There were no dogs under the table or even rushes on the floor, but by watching the duke I discovered that one of the plates was specifically meant for the bones and gristle, removed regularly by the servants. With each course came glasses of wine, both white and red. By the time the servants were gathering up the chestnut shells and bringing us basins of warm water in which to wash our fingers, I was full and a little drunk and had almost forgotten Thierri.
    But he had not forgotten me. The musicians began playing again out in the great hall as the duke rose to his feet. Several couples hurried at once to begin dancing among the flowering plants. But Thierri sauntered up to me, his green eyes glittering, and asked, "Are you still interested in accompanying me on a little promenade in the courtyard, Count Scar? Or has this excellent meal slaked your need to avenge your honor?"
    I located Bruno and the knights, standing up from a table at the far end of the room and looking as well satisfied as I felt, and gathered them up with a jerk of my chin. If Thierri had knights of his own with whom he hoped to overpower me, my men and I would be prepared to wrestle.
    But no one accompanied him as he led me through the doors from the great hall into the courtyard. A number of people observed us go, but none moved to follow. The