seemed different. The mood was lighter, and under the chaos lay a sense of limits or even order. It could reflect already the nature of the new king, and he had to consider whether it promised good or ill. A lighter mood was surely good, but as they'd discussed the day before, a very strong inclination toward law and order might not be the best thing for his cause.
He led his party over to the stables, and they gave their horses into the care of the grooms there.
Then a cleric came forward, bearing wax tablets. "Your names, kind sirs?"
Galeran's nerves twitched, but he replied calmly. "Galeran of Heywood in Northumbria, and Raoul de Jouray from the Guyenne."
The man noted their names without expression. "His majesty King Henry is most gratified that so many wish to pay homage to him and congratulate him on his accession. The sheer numbers, however, make it impossible for him to give private audience to everyone at this time. If you will enter the hall, my lords, the king passes through from time to time."
He moved on to greet the next party.
"Very interesting," said Raoul as they walked toward the huge wooden building, which was finely carved and painted and hung with banners.
"Your Henry seems to like organization."
"And be good at it, which is more to the point. If his hall were fall of people all chivvying for a chance at a moment alone with the king, feelings would be much sourer. This way, those not given audiences won't feel too disgruntled."
Raoul grinned. "You think as I do. The names are sent to the king and he chooses whom to see. Well, let's go in and see if you are chosen."
"Probably not. My father would be, but I do not have his power."
"You're his son."
"If anyone knows that. I might have made a point of it, but I doubt there's any chance today to have a private audience. We may have to wait weeks, and that might not be a bad thing."
"Or perhaps you just want to put off the moment. If need be, I could give you refuge in Guyenne."
It was the first time lighthearted Raoul had mentioned such a thing, and Galeran's throat seized up. What did Raoul sense here that led him to make the offer?
Having returned safe to England, he had no wish to leave her shores again, but if it were that or Jehanne at the stake, of course he would flee into exile.
Given the chance.
They joined the stream of handsomely dressed lords passing through the open great doors of the hall, and found the main chamber full but not oppressively so. It was a huge space and could handle the crowd and even the noise of many voices.
"What's the betting," Raoul murmured, "that when the crush reaches its limits, the king comes out to appease everyone and send them on their way?"
"I'm sure you're right, but at least the waiting is to be civilized."
Musicians played in one corner, tables were laid with food, and servants passed around with cups of wine. Galeran and Raoul took one each, tasted, and raised their brows at each other. It was good.
Galeran worked his way toward a space near a window and said quietly, "I'm vastly grateful that I'm not trying to fool Henry Beauclerk."
"Perhaps he just has efficient servants."
"You can tell a man by his servants."
Galeran leaned against the wall and tried to relax. He knew he could be here for hours. He'd grown accustomed to this kind of time-wasting while on crusade. It irked him, but there were occasions when just being present was essential to favor and welfare. He had no doubt that a record was being kept of who was here, and how speedily they had come.
And who had not come.
His father's absence would already have been noted, and he did not know what consequences there might be to that.
He was sure, too, that some of these men were king's men, here solely to listen to conversations. Probably that was obvious to everyone, for all he could hear was safe talk of crops and horses.
Then he heard one mention of Duke Robert - a speculation as to what he would do.
"If he's got sense," said a sinewy man with a hooked nose, "he'll keep his fingers out of England. It's not 1066 now."
"But what if some here want him?" murmured a plumper man, eyes sliding around as if he could spot a spy. "Not me!" he added hastily. "But I've