Medieval 01 - Untamed

word was spoken until the three of them entered the great hall, where fires burned and tapestries glowed in rich colors along the wall. Silver plate and goblets gleamed from every spot on the long trestle tables. Saxon and Norman were interspersed quite carefully along the lower tables. They were watched over by men standing along the walls with the servants. The men, however, weren’t fetching and carrying; they were holding fully armed crossbows.
    It had a dampening effect on the festivity.
    John had been waiting for Meg and Dominic. Aweak yet imperious gesture summoned them to the dais on which the lord’s table was elevated above the remainder of the great hall. Three plates of beaten gold gleamed at John’s table. At his signal, a server leaped forward to pour wine into a jeweled goblet.
    â€œA toast to the bride and groom,” John said.
    Despite his obvious frailty, when John spoke, he pitched his voice to carry throughout the room. Small conversations stilled as knights and their ladies turned toward the dais.
    â€œBehold the great Norman lord,” John said in a voice rich with contempt. “Behold the fool who trusted King Henry and was betrayed by him.”
    Gasps and uneasy murmurs rose from the tables.
    Dominic smiled wolfishly. “You have great knowledge of betrayal, having practiced it all your life. Tell me, I pray thee, how King Henry betrayed his Sword.”
    â€œWhy, ’tis simple, simpleton. Your king didn’t love you enough to give you a noble Norman girl to wed.”
    Dominic slanted a sideways look at Meg. Her mouth was pale and drawn. He put his hand under her chin and turned her face toward his.
    â€œNay, my king loved me more,” Dominic said clearly. “He gave me the fairest maiden in all his kingdom to wed.”
    â€œHe gave you hell on earth!” John rasped.
    â€œYou’re ill, old man. Make your toast and let us get on with the feasting.”
    John laughed. The sound of madness lying just beneath the laughter made Meg stir in silent protest.
    â€œThat I will,” John said. “We shall drink to the king who hated you enough to give you a daughter of Glendruid to wed.”
    â€œNo great burden,” Dominic said dryly.
    â€œHa! You’re as ignorant as a stone. It is the greatest curse a man could bear. Like me, you will have no heirs .”
    The sardonic smile vanished from Dominic’s face. “What are you saying? Is your daughter infertile?”
    â€œShe is a Glendruid witch,” John spat. “If you take her without pleasing her, there will be no fruit.”
    Dominic shrugged. “The same is said of every girl.”
    â€œBut in the case of the Glendruids, it is truth!”
    Against his will, Dominic was drawn by the combination of madness, despair, and triumph that glittered in John’s hazel eyes as he spoke.
    â€œWithin living memory, no sons have been born to a daughter of Glendruid,” John said.
    A quick glance at Duncan and Meg told Dominic that they accepted as truth what John was saying. So did the knights of the keep. They sat silently, watching Dominic with great interest, wondering what the husband of Lady Margaret would do when he realized how he had been fooled into accepting a marriage that was less than it had seemed.
    â€œAll Glendruid unions produced daughters, and precious few of them,” John continued.
    â€œIf that is true, why were you so eager to marry your son to Lady Margaret?” Dominic countered.
    â€œIt was the only way to give Blackthorne Keep to Duncan. And…” John’s voice faded.
    Dominic waited.
    John gave Meg and Duncan a hooded glance.
    â€œThere is affection between the two of them,” John said finally. “There always has been.”
    The thought didn’t please Dominic.
    â€œSo?” he asked in a clipped voice.
    â€œSo there was a chance of an heir,” John said simply. “And if not, there are always wenches willingto bear a great man’s bastards. One way or the other, the seed of my loins would have inherited my lands!”
    Dominic’s eyes narrowed to splinters of ice as he heard his own dream from the lips of a man who hated him.
    â€œBut,” continued John, “no man can seduce a witch, for she has little passion in her; and if a rare witch does feel passion, it is for a man other than her husband. The fruit she bears is female, and comes not from her husband’s