Hugh d’Avranches’s court, and quite possibly unknown. Nevertheless, as Bishop Balthus, Tuck felt he should give the brazen woman a stiff frown to show his clerical displeasure; he did so and marked that it did nothing to chasten her. Nor did it prevent her from insinuating herself between him and the handsome count. Oh well, thought Tuck as he slid aside to make room for her, with a toothsome prize in sight folk are blind to all they should beware of—and that has been true since Adam first tasted apple juice.
The jars went round and round, filling cups and bowls and goblets, and then filling them again. Earl Hugh, in a high and happy mood, called a feast to be laid for this impromptu celebration of his windfall of good fortune. His musicians were summoned, and as the kitchen servants began laying a meal of roast venison on the haunch, loaves of bread, rounds of cheese, and bowls of boiled greens, a gang of rowdy minstrels entered the hall and commenced perpetrating the most awful screech and clatter, pushing an already boisterous gathering into a barely restrained chaos. Tuck viewed the convivial tumult as a very godsend, for it offered a mighty distraction to lull suspicious minds. He glanced around the board at his nearest companions: Alan seemed to be watching the roister in an agony of want as jar after jar passed him by. Yet, Lord bless him, he resisted the temptation to down as many as might be poured, and contented himself with coddling his one small cup; Ifor and Brocmael, true to their duty, resisted the temptation to indulge and passed the jars along without adding anything to their cups.
Bran, as Count Rexindo, on the other hand became more expansive and jolly as the evening drew on. He not only filled his own cup liberally, but was seen to fill others’ as well—including those of the earl and the hovering women. Engaging the visiting Norman lords in loud conversation about hunting and fighting and the like—with the aid of Alan’s ready tongue—he drew them out of their stony shells and coaxed a laugh a time or two. Therefore, no one was the least surprised when he rose from his seat and hoisted his cup high and announced, again through Alan, “I drink to our esteemed and honoured host! Who is with me?”
Of course, everyone stood with him then—as who would not?— and raised their cups, shouting, “Attenté! Attenté!”
The Spanish count tipped down a great draught of wine, wiped his mouth, and said, speaking loudly and with some little passion, “My friends and I have enjoyed our sojourn here in your realm, my lord earl. Your hospitality is as expansive as your girth—”
The earl looked puzzled as this was spoken, and Alan quickly corrected the count’s meaning, saying, “—generosity . . . as expansive as your generosity, my lord. Please excuse my poor translation. He means your hospitality is as great as your generosity.”
“It is nothing,” replied Earl Hugh grandly. “Nothing at all!”
“I must beg your pardon, my good earl,” replied Count Rexindo a little blearily, “but it is not nothing to me. In Spain, where all the virtues are accorded great regard, none sits higher in our esteem than the welcome given to kin and countrymen, and the strangers in our midst.” His words came across a little slurred through the wine, though Alan cleaned them up. “As one who knows something of this, I can say with all confidence that your hospitality is worthy of its great renown.” He lifted his cup once more. “I drink to you, most worthy and esti . . . estimable lord.”
“To Earl Hugh!” came the chorused acclaim.
All drank, and everyone sat down again and made to resume the meal, but Count Rexindo was not finished yet. “Alas, the time has come for us to leave. Tomorrow’s hunt will be my last, but it will be memorable . . .” He paused to allow these words to penetrate the haze of drink and food befogging his listeners’ heads. “Indeed, all the more if our exalted earl will allow me to suggest a certain refinement to tomorrow’s ride.”
“Of course! Of course!” cried the earl, his spirits lofty, goodwill overflowing like the wine sloshing over the rim of his cup. “Anything you desire,” he said with an airy wave of his hand. “Anything at all.” He smiled, his ruddy face beaming with pride at the way he’d been feted and flattered by the