A King Empowered by J. R. Tomlin

Author:J. R. Tomlin [Tomlin, J R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Albannach Publishing

They had taken their places, Douglas swaggering to the dais resplendent in black velvet worked with gold thread, the most elegant Patrick had ever laid eyes on. Bishop Kennedy said a lengthy blessing, calling on them to humbly seek peace as the duty of all Christians. Bishop Turnbull was silent, his face solemn.

A servant carried in the artistic subtlety of a marzipan peel tower under siege to mark the beginning of the meal. The tower was remarkably realistic, only spoiled by a chunk broken out of the wall when the Douglas bent over to examine it. The earl picked up the broken piece and munched it with a smirk before he resumed his place beside the King in the center of the high table. On the other side of the king, Patrick’s father sat stone-faced. Lord Patrick Lyon and his son were next at the table.

Patrick took his place on the dais between the sullen-faced, gray-haired William Lauder and Alex Boyd. Crichton sat at the far end of the high table as far from the Douglas as he could manage. Sir John Stewart made jests to William Cranston. Simon Glendenning and Andrew Stewart were silently drinking their wine as they waited to be served.

Four servants carried in the roast oxen on an enormous serving tray. Douglas raised an eyebrow but did not comment as they were all served steaming slices of the beef.

James stabbed his eating knife into the meat as though it were an enemy but only took a couple of bites. Then he emptied his wine cup and held it out for a servant to replenish. Crichton poked at his food and then begged the King to excuse him as he had felt a grippe coming on.

Two jugglers and a musician began their acts. Dishes of breney with wine and figs and capon pie were placed before them. James seemed barely to notice but drained his cup again. The Douglas looked on with a sneer.

Patrick realized that he had not touched the food before him. He motioned to one of the servants to take it away and emptied his wine cup with a long swallow. He could barely breathe from the tension that was so thick you could have drowned in it.

When the jugglers bowed their way out, Bishop Kennedy rose. “On the morrow, after we have all had time to rest and think on how to restore amity will be time for discussion.” He made the sign of the cross over them. “God bless you all.”

Turnbull rose, bowed to the King, and followed.

Once the bishops had exited the dais door, James sat with a pensive look on his face, but his color was high and his eyes gleaming. He turned his face to the earl. “What think you, my lord earl? Are the disputes between us a matter for priests?”

The Douglas snorted. “I never have put my business in the hands of clerics. I shall nae start now.”

“Then we are of a mind.” When the King rose, everyone scrambled to their feet.

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