with such a name. It was in a large chamber with several other squires from the Court, all of whom had already left to join the feast. He had no idea where to go, but decided to change out of the clothes he had worn for the hunt and into something more fitting for a feast and an evening’s entertainment. Once into his parti-coloured hose, with the dashing surcote that Madeleine had so admired, he began to feel more like himself.
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He whistled as he swung out of the chamber and into the court which separated the guest houses from the bulk of the Abbey buildings. A servant hurrying along with a large pitcher glanced in his direction.
"Where does the King feast tonight?" called Jervis.
"Follow me, and I will take you to him," returned the servant, without stopping. He walked quickly down one side of the building and turned into another courtyard, through a gate overhung with creepers. This court was surrounded by buildings too, but, this time, they were obviously all dwellings. The Abbey was hidden behind them, and this could have been the courtyard of any manor house. In this section of the Abbey buildings were the living quarters for the Abbot himself and his Prior, and space for offering hospitality to visitors of the highest rank. That these same visitors brought with them those whose sole aim seemed to be the destruction of the town outside, the stealing of much of the food, and the ravishing of the women who had the misfortune to catch their drunken and lustful eyes was an unlooked-for complication. The townsfolk expressed their hatred and anger freely in the taverns; the monks, by virtue of their training and vocation, were unable to speak so openly, but their sympathy with those who lived outside the Abbey was no secret.
King Henry, seated at this moment in a comfortable chair, before a table groaning with good food and plenty of wine, was not bothered by any of the negative emotions being directed at him. He was not unaware of the behaviour of the soldiers and members of his Court, but, as King, he saw no need to concern himself with such petty problems. His men were here now; in a few days they would be gone. Let the town and the Abbey sort things out and lick their wounds afterward. In the meantime, it was their duty to offer their best to their King, who was their ruler by divine right.
He saw that at his side his brother-in-law, and loyal follower, John de Warenne was trying to catch his eye, and he graciously inclined his head to listen to what de Warenne might wish to say.
"Sire," said de Warenne, trying to be discreet but heard, amid the hubbub of the feasting.
"My squire, Jervis FitzHugh has just arrived at the feast. You will recall that he was present at an exciting moment of the hunt. Would Your Majesty wish to hear more details?"
"By all means, " agreed Henry. "But let us all including your squire enjoy the
excellent viands that we have before us first. There is nothing to spoil our appetite now, I believe?"
"That is so, Sire," said de Warenne, with a smile.
"Then bid the young man approach us and sit near you, so that he may also enjoy his food, and learn from his elders and betters how to behave in such circumstances!" said Henry, cheerfully.
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De Warenne beckoned to a manservant who was hovering behind his chair, and sent him to Jervis with the message that he should join them. He watched the servant force his way through the crowd, to where Jervis stood on the edge of the throng, saw the man give his message and Jervis’s eyes widen in pleased amazement. Then he watched the heads turn to follow the young man’s progress, until he reached the high table and saw the faces in the crowd register a mixture of expressions. Some were making a mental note to treat the young man with more favour in the future, some were politely surprised to see him granted such favour; a few were not pleased at all, and their expressions registered suspicion, envy and dislike. On one face only did he see excited pleasure flash briefly and then fade as she resumed a blank expression, more fitting for one so recently widowed.
So the rumours were true, mused John de Warenne. Madeleine de Tourney was indeed more than fond of Jervis FitzHugh. FitzHugh’s