Page 28 of Picking Up the Gauntlet

“Nay. You sit next to my daughter, Jonathon,” called out Corbett from the center of the table. Once Jonathon was seated, Raven’s father stood up and made an announcement to everyone that only twisted the knife he’d already embedded in her back.

“I’d like to make a toast to my daughter, Lady Raven,” said Corbett, holding up the goblet in the air. “In a few weeks from now she’ll be married to the lucky winner of the tournament. Until then, she will practice having a man at her side at the dais, since I have invited Jonathon Armstrong to join us. Jonathon is my daughter’s personal guard and also the temporary castle smith.”

“Personal guard?” someone called out. “Who is going to protect him from her?”

Everyone laughed.

“Enough!” shouted Corbett. “Mr. Armstrong will also be reporting directly to me, anyone who so much as disrespects or says an unkind word about my daughter.”

“What?” Raven’s head snapped around and her eyes opened wide as she looked at Jonathon. “Is this true?”

“Well,” said Jonathon clearing his throat. “Not exactly. It was your brother who came up with that idea, although I can’t say I agree with it in the least.”

“You are ruining my life and I wish I never met you.” Raven sprang out of her chair and ran from the dais. Jonathon got up to go after her.

“Nay,” said Rook, grabbing his arm as Jonathon passed him. “Let her go. When she gets this way, it is best to let her calm down before anyone approaches her. If you go after her now, it’ll only make things worse.”

“But it’s my job, I have to go,” said Jonathon, looking back at Corbett. Corbett slowly sat down, shaking his head, not agreeing with what Jonathon wanted to do.

“Sit down and have something to eat,” said Rook, taking Raven’s empty spot. The servants started placing platters of delicious-looking food in front of him on the table. He spied an entire roasted pig on a platter with an apple in its mouth. Around it was a variety of root vegetables and even roasted chestnuts. Platters of fresh fruit were stacked so high he could barely see over the tops of them. There were baskets of bread and rolls covered with seeds, all of them looking like they were made from white flour, which was considered rare and only for nobles, since it took so long to sift.

“What’s that?” asked Jonathon, as a servant put a huge steaming hot pie in front of him.

“That’s venison pie. My mother’s favorite is venison, so we eat a lot of it,” said Rook.

“That aroma,” he said, sniffing the air, always aware of different scents. “I’ve never smelled that before. What is it?”

“The pie is heavily spiced with cardamom and saffron and other exotic spices. I personally don’t like all the spices, but my father favors them.”

“Can I fill your goblet, my lords?” asked a cupbearer, coming up behind them with a decanter in each hand.

“He’s not a lord,” said Rook, holding out his goblet, letting the boy fill it. “Have you ever tasted Elderflower Summer Ale?” asked Rook. “It’s one of my favorite drinks.”

“Nay, I haven’t.” Jonathon noticed the fruity, floral scent coming from the ale and it intrigued him.

“Or the cupbearer also has pear cider. Your choice,” said Rook, taking a drink of the ale.

“Pear cider?” he asked, never having had that either.

“It’s all right, but it’s not even as strong as wine. I prefer the ale,” said Rook.

Jonathon really wanted to eat, but he couldn’t stay. Not now. Not after what just happened with Raven. He looked down at the rest of the trestle tables below the salt. The food the others were being served seemed to consist of very little meat, but lots of cabbage, brown bread and vegetables. Avery sat next to Gerold, conversing with the others. His brother looked up, holding a hunk of brown bread in his hand. His eyes devoured the fancier food sitting in front of Jonathon, especially the white bread. He knew how much Avery wanted to try the nobles’ food, and that only made Jonathon feel worse about sitting up here. He didn’t belong at the dais. He felt like a fraud, and as if sitting up here dressed like this was only making a mockery of him as well. He started regretting accepting this job after all.

“No, thank you. I’m fine,” he told the cupbearer. The boy looked puzzled.

With a shake of Rook’s head, the cupbearer moved on to fill Lark’s goblet instead.

“You seem uncomfortable up here,” said Rook.

“I am. I don’t belong here and you know it.”

“I agree,” said Rook, taking another drink of ale. “However, it is my father’s decision and I have nothing to say about it.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to set up the forge so I think I’ll skip the meal. Unless you’d like me to wait for Lady Raven to return.”

“You can go, Armstrong,” said Corbett walking over to talk with them. “My daughter will most likely be spending the rest of the night in her chamber sulking like she usually does when she doesn’t get her way. I’m sorry for her outburst. The sun has set now, so you are free to work in the forge for the rest of the night. Your service to my daughter is not needed again until the morning.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said Jonathon, hurrying off the dais, not able to wait to get out of there. As he left the great hall, he could not only hear everyone talking about him, but he could feel their eyes burning into his back as well. He wanted to run from the room, just like Raven had, but he wouldn’t. Instead, he held his head high and left the great hall with the poise and grace of a noble, even if he was naught but a common man. Jonathon headed across the courtyard, making a beeline for the blacksmith’s shop, pulling off the surcoat with the Blake crest on it as he walked.