“Those seated shall rise as the host enters, and then again when the host or his chamberlain or priest say grace,” Beryl said, and looked about the chamber, her lips parted as if to callfor assistance.
“In this chamber,” Padraig reminded her, “I am the master. And so should it nae be me what says the grace?”
Beryl looked unconvinced for only a moment; then she steeled her expression once more and rosefrom her seat.
Padraig stood and cleared his throat. “Thanks be to Thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, for all the blessings Thou hast given us; for all the sufferings and shame Thou didst endure for us. Have mercy upon us, O most merciful Redeemer, that we may know these Thy blessings and use them to Thine glory. For Thine own sake, amen.”
“Amen,” Beryl said, and her eyes heldclear pleasure.
“I might nae be a fancy lord,” Padraig advised her as he sat, “but I’m nae savage. Me da said the grace over every meal.” He gave a proud nod.
Beryl seemed to float gracefully down to her seat while her lips curved. “A fine grace it was, Master Boyd. Perhaps you will yet surprise the both of us with things your father has taught you.”
Padraig was so fascinated by her refined beauty that he spoke without thinking. “If it will make you smile, I’ll resolve to surpriseyou each day.”
Beryl blinked, and her expression softened for only a moment before she was back to business. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. For now, we must study the use of the eating knife. Helm or nay, you will be expected to take meals in the great hall with the rest of the hold, starting tonight.”
* * * *
Iris stood, along with the rest of the hold, as Lady Hargrave entered the hall on her husband’s arm. She wondered briefly at the seat left empty to the right of the lord’s before she sat and felt the fluttering brush of Caris’s hand on her sleeve.She looked up.
“How do you fare, my dear?” the lady whispered discreetly. Her eyes were keen, fullof compassion.
Iris smiled. “I am well, my lady.”
“That savage has not overworked you, has he?” she pressed, although she had by all accounts turned her attention to arranging her napkin. “I shall put a halt to it at once, if so, and I care not for what he should tell the king. You look tired.”
Iris took her cue from the woman, draping her own napkin over her arm. “Nothing so taxing beyond a lesson of manners, milady.” She tried not to think about the way Padraig Boyd had seemed to watch her every move, much in the same way that Satin was keen on prey in the shadows. But the look in his eyes hadn’t been malicious—only…fascinated, perhaps. It had made Iris feel self-conscious and more than a little flattered. “Although I’ll admit, it has been a long day.”
“Like teaching a hound to recite, I should imagine,” Lady Caris breathed, her mouth barely moving as the seated crowd stirred. “We’ll talk later.”
Padraig Boyd stood framed in the corridor entrance, Lucan at his side. It seemed as though the motley company of servants grudgingly given into his service were gathered in the passage at his back. Lucan made a motion as if to step into the hall, but the slightest raising of Boyd’s hand stopped him. Everyone waited.
Iris looked out of the corner of her eye at Hargrave, who seemed to be enjoying the palpable indecision of those seated between him and the Scot.
Should they rise as he entered? Padraig Boyd, remembering his earlier lesson with Iris, seemed to think so. Iris felt a rising tension in her middle at the challenge that was being played out.
“You’re late,” Hargrave called out flatly as the chaplain appeared near the lord’s table. “The blessing of the food is about to be said.”
Iris realized in that moment Padraig Boyd’s strategy and bit the inside of her cheek in annoyance. He played a dangerous game, and Iris had unwittingly lenthim the pawns.
“Then I’m nae ’tall late, am I?” Boyd challenged.
Father Kettering cleared his throat.“Let us pray.”
Hargrave grudgingly gained his feet.
The hallfollowed suit.
Padraig Boyd, without even a hint of triumph on his face, gave a shallow bow toward Hargrave and then strode toward the open table placed conspicuously along the wall nearest the corridor and standing apart from the other trestles, with only two chairs to its side. His servants dispersed at once to the common tables in the center, leaving Lucanstanding alone.
Iris glanced again at Hargrave and saw the red in his cheeks deepen, even as he motioned to the chaplain.
“Heavenly Father, we thank Thee that in Thy great mercy…”
A long moment later, it seemed, the shuffling of feet and stools grew loud as the people once more sat, and servers began circulating about the chamber with the platters. Lucan now made his way toward the lord’s table and gave a bow.
“Good evening, Lord Hargrave. Where would you have me sit?”
