Knight Moves by Laurie McLean

Author:Laurie McLean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: time travel, knights, medieval romance, time travel romance, sca, bishop of durham, laurie mclean, ranulf flambard, society of creative anachronism
Publisher: Joyride Books

Chapter Ten

Westron wind, when will thou blow?

The small rain down can rain.

Christ, that my love were in my arms,

And I in my bed again.

The young jongleur sang with lusty exuberance. Dark curls flowed around his shoulders as he bobbed his head in time to the music. He plucked an intricate and beautiful melody on the strings of his lute. His large brown eyes sparkled as they made contact with the audience. Every woman was entranced. He knew how to work the crowd, Marian thought with a smile. The handsome singer’s mouth opened wide as he sang the words of the familiar tune so he could be heard above the tavern’s din.

Standing next to him, an older man with wisps of white hair framing an otherwise bald pate mirrored his friend’s melody note for note on his flute. Agile for one who had left his youth far behind, the flutist dipped and swayed before the crowd as if they were snakes he was charming. On the lead singer’s other side, a tall, rail-thin youth dressed in a crimson and gold striped tunic, kept the crowd laughing as he leaped and twirled while banging a ribbon-bedecked tamborine. To Marian he looked like a frantic flamingo caught in a red and yellow shop awning. The frenzied movements of the youngest and oldest musicians made their flanked leader look stationary by comparison.

Marian took another long pull of ale and felt the cool liquid slide down her throat leaving a taste of malted barley and sage in her mouth. Several tavern patrons slammed their steins and blackjacks on the tables in time with the rhythm. She heard the barmaid singing along with the tune as she delivered mead to a table of knights from the castle.

“They’re quite good, wouldn’t you agree?” she shouted to Thomas who shook his head in assent.

“The innkeeper told me this morning that they also have tumblers and jugglers in their troupe,” he yelled back, “but the Earl of Carlisle requested a special acrobatic performance tonight for his two young daughters, so they did not accompany their musical partners to the tavern.”

Marian looked around and wondered how anyone would be able to juggle or tumble in such a crowded space. The place was packed to the rafters.

The song ended and the handsome singer bowed to the applauding audience.

“We have just finished a fortnight of entertaining at the castle,” he said, “and two days hence we leave for Penrith and Durham on our way back to London for the winter. But tonight, be forewarned. Tonight we are in especially high spirits. My brother John has just announced that I am to become an uncle.” The crowd sent out a cheer and the innkeeper doffed an imaginary hat in thanks for the tribute. “His wife, the saintly Meg, after years of drought, has struck water at last. So dance, drink and be merry, my friends. Tonight we celebrate.”

The trio wheeled into a rousing version of the traditional Trotto, and many people leapt up to form a line that wove its way around the tables and chairs of the room, adding people as it went.

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