Both women were on the floor now, rolling around in spilled food, wine, and Christin’s vomit. Sean, who had been watching everything with great interest and even greater amusement, bent over Christin as she wrestled with Wynter.
“My lady,” he said. “The king is…”
Whap! Sean was hit in the face by the crusty bread Christin was swinging around. With crumbs in his eyes, he staggered back to clear his vision as someone tossed a man onto the table on the dais. The man rolled into Sean, who immediately grabbed him, lifted him up over his head, and tossed him back where he came from.
It was an impressive move.
When he managed to clear his eyes, his attention moved back to Christin and Wynter, who had stopped fighting and were now hiding under the table, giggling uncontrollably. Sean wiped at his eyes again, shaking his head at the pair as he realized it was all an act. All of it.
He’d never seen anything so hilarious.
Or ruthless.
“Get out of my sight,” he growled to Christin. “Back to your room. Bolt the door and I do not want to see you again while I am here at Norwich. Stay away. Do you understand me?”
Christin wasn’t frightened nor offended. In fact, she completely understood. Giving the man a grin, she grabbed Wynter and bolted to her feet, both of them running from the hall, half of which was still in turmoil. Sean watched her go, trying to glare at her, but having the most awful time struggling not to laugh. Quickly, he departed because he was losing the battle.
But the fight in the hall was still going full bore. Men were brawling and food was still flying as Old Daveigh along with Alexander, Peter, Bric and Kevin tried to calm down the brawl. Alexander saw Christin flee the hall and he also saw Sean leave, departing quickly after the king, who had been hurriedly escorted out when the women started to fight.
For an evening that had started out with great trepidation, it could not have ended better as far as he was concerned. Christin had performed magnificently, something that he would be sure to tell William Marshal when the man arrived. She deserved a great deal of praise for what she had done. There would certainly be no concerns over the king trying to bed her this night.
Alexander had never been so proud of someone in all his life.
With a grin, he went back to work trying to help Old Daveigh calm his unruly guests.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
From the unpredictable rain that had set a precedent for the season, the day had dawned remarkably clear and strangely warm. There wasn’t the usual chill to the air that there usually was, making it extremely pleasant for travel.
In fact, David had his helm off completely and the sun had turned his nose red as the de Lohr group headed into the outskirts of Norwich. There was a wedding feast still going on, but it looked as if it had been going on for a few days because some people were sleeping on tables, others were picking at food, while still others were haphazardly dancing with music played by exhausted musicians. There were drunkards passed out all around and tatters of flowers and garlands.
Christopher reined his horse to a halt, looking at the town square. It looked like a cluster of discarded poppets.
“It looks like one hell of a party,” he said, tipping back his helm and wiping the sweat from his brow.
David looked around him, grinning. “I’m sorry I missed it,” he said. “I cannot imagine de Winter’s celebration is going to be any great cause for copious drinking like this event clearly was.”
As the brothers were nodding, looking on ahead to Norwich Castle in the distance, they heard a voice behind them.
“It looks like one of the parties we used to participate in, long ago.” It was a deep, loud voice. “Usually, it would be David passed out under the table as Chris and I arm wrestled to see who could throw whom to the ground first.”
Christopher and David turned around, both of them grinning when they saw an enormous knight on a big, black warhorse coming up behind them. The man was wearing a tunic of William Marshal, as he was the garrison commander of the mighty Richmond Castle and probably the fiercest knight in the north of England.
“Cai,” Christopher said with satisfaction. “Do my eyes deceive me? Is it really you?”
Sir Caius d’Avignon flipped up his visor, giving the brothers a full view of his smiling face. He was an enormous man, usually at least a head taller than everyone else around him, with hair and eyes as black as coal. His face was angular and strong, the brilliant smile displaying charmingly crooked teeth.
“It is me in the flesh, gentle knights,” he said. “I should be asking you that question. Why in the hell would you attend a celebration in honor of John? He’s not exactly your favorite person.”
“For the same reason you would.”
“The Marshal ordered you to?”
Christopher laughed softly. “He did not order us, but rather strongly encouraged,” he said. “Besides, it is a chance for me to see my eldest children. They both serve at Norwich.”
Caius nodded as he reined his horse next to Christopher. “I have seen Peter from time to time,” he said. “An astonishingly good knight.”
A prideful smile crossed Christopher’s lips. “He comes from excellent stock and has had excellent training,” he said. “His brothers are doing equally well. Curtis and Richard serve at Bowes Castle with Juston de Royans and they are both nearly as big as I am at sixteen and fourteen years, respectively. Myles is at Canterbury with David, still, and the younger children are at home with my wife and me. Rebecca has seen seven years, Douglas five years, Westley three years, and Olivia Charlotte is the baby.”
“The baby has two names?”
“I liked one, Dustin liked the other, so she is called by two names.”
Caius snorted. “How exhausting.”
Christopher shrugged. “You get used to it,” he said. “In any case, Dustin insists on keeping our children to her bosom. It is like extracting teeth with her to send a child to foster.”
Caius chuckled. “That is quite a brood, my virile stud,” he said. “Are you finished yet?”
Christopher cocked an eyebrow. “My wife says I am a dead man if she conceives a child again, so I would say that we are finished.”
Both Caius and David laughed heartily at that statement, mostly because Christopher seemed rather fearful of the wrath of his wife in such a case.
“I cannot believe a man of your stature would be fearful of a woman,” Caius said. “You are the husband. If you want more children, that is your right.”
Christopher gave a loud, ironic snort. “When you marry, you shall understand,” he said. “You’re completely ignorant, d’Avignon. Give advice only for the things you’re good for – slaying enemies and savages.”
Caius grinned wolfishly. “The only thing I have been slaying as of late lies between a woman’s legs.”
That set Christopher and David off into laughter again. Caius was, if nothing else, quite entertaining. They had served with him in The Levant, part of the close circle of Richard’s trusted men, and Caius had been jovial and witty at times. He was also one of the most brilliant, deadly tacticians around, so much so that the Muslims called him Britania Faybr, or The Britannia Viper.
He was big, fast, and deadly.