She turned to look at the full moon rising over the distant trees. It looked overly large when it was so low and was as brilliant as if it had been wrought of silver. “It does,” she agreed, then Amaury straightened with purpose.
“And so, we shall dance,” he said with resolve. He leaned close to her and whispered a warning she could not understand. “Watch Lothair,” he advised, his eyes sparkling at a jest she did not yet understand. He then turned and clapped his hands, commanding the attention of his fellows. “Hoy there, is this not a wedding? Let us have a dance!” he cried and she watched the reactions of the knights.
Luc and Thierry glanced at each other before either spoke, as seemed to be their frequent inclination. She supposed it was natural for twins to confer on all matters. They nodded as one and stood, their intention clear.
Lothair’s gaze flicked and his features set, his unwillingness to participate more than clear.
“We have need of four couples for a ring dance,” Luc said, giving the tall knight a nudge. “That includes you, Lothair.”
“I do not dance.”
“You should dance,” Thierry argued. “Out of deference to the bride.”
“I could not ask it of him,” Isabella protested.
“I know you could not refuse such a small action that might give a lady pleasure,” Amaury said to Lothair.
That knight sighed mightily. “We need three more ladies,” he protested.
“I can dance the lady’s part,” Philip contributed.
“As will I,” agreed another, nudging the boy who sat beside him. “As will Thorne.” That boy seemed to share Lothair’s reluctance, but he rose to his feet as well.
“There is no music,” Lothair noted, as if that were sufficient excuse to forget the notion.
“Then we shall sing,” Amaury said with finality. He sang a verse from a familiar song, one that provided a rhythm suitable for a ring dance. Isabella recognized the tune and found herselfhumming along. It was better than losing herself in the deep marvel that was Amaury’s voice.
Luc and Thierry sang the verse along with Amaury, correcting themselves when they missed a word or a note. By the fourth repetition, the squires had lifted their voices and even Lothair deigned to mumble the words.
Amaury spun and offered his hand to Isabella. “My lady?” he invited and she could not resist the temptation to put her hand in his.
They joined hands beyond the fading fire, forming a ring, one that alternated between men and supposed ladies. Amaury was opposite Isabella and before beginning the tune again, he bowed to her. The other knights bowed to their partners as well, then Isabella and the squires curtsied to the knights.
Amaury began to sing, his voice deep and resonant. In time to the tune, they danced to the left and then to the right.
There was a maid of Sainte-Chapelle,
Who loved to dance so very well.
She danced all day and half the night,
She possessed no other appetite
Save for music and for song;
No suitor persisted very long.
When the verse changed,Amaury offered his hand and stepped toward Isabella. She echoed his move, and met him in the middle of the circle, where he claimed her hand and they circled each other. She could not help the skip of her heart when he watched her so intently, and she was surprised to find herself raising her voice in song for the chorus.
She danced the night
She danced the day
’Twas said she’d dance her life away.
They returnedto their places in the circle, joined hands with the others and moved to the left again. It was not so formal a dance as others Isabella recalled, and it could have been said that the ladies were less elegant than might have been the case in a king’s court, but there was merriment in it and goodwill. She realized she was enjoying herself.
Her father feared she would not wed
