A Dishonorable Knight(88)
"But--" Elena began, confusion, disappointment and, yes, hurt feelings swirling within her.
"You'll be well taken care of, Lady. Enjoy!" Turning, Gareth quickly followed his father and Samuel out.
"Well if that isn't ill-mannered," she said.
"Yes, but that's Gareth for you," Cynan said, trying to effect a disappointed face. "Bryant and I have tried and tried to teach him how to behave, but you see, he's just a heathen mountain boy at heart. Bryant and I, however," he continued with a bow, "are experts at courtly manners and gentle entertainments."
"Are you now?" Elena said, trying to infuse her tone with a lightheartedness she did not feel.
"Oh, Cynan, shut up," Bryant said, clearly disgusted.
"What? Why? Was I or was I not acting in a manner befitting a duke, Lady Elena?"
Elena laughed in genuine amusement. "Oh, indeed."
Cynan turned to Bryant. "You see?"
"You need not humor him, my lady," Bryant said. "It only makes him worse."
"You mean it makes me better."
Bryant shook his head and looked at Elena as if to say, "I told you so."
Sobering slightly, Cynan stole a handful of Elena's berries and said, "Gareth said you were interested in the bookseller across town. Shall we go there first?"
Elena nodded and finished her bit of cheese as she stood. "I'd also like to stop by my seamstress's shop and see how she's coming on my dress."
"Wonderful! Bryant's never been inducted into the joys of waiting for a woman as she talks dresses with another woman."
Elena couldn't contain her laughter at the worried look on Bryant's face.
Outside it was nearly as beautiful as the day before, but to Elena, something was missing. She refused to allow herself to think that she missed Gareth's presence, but somewhere in her heart, she knew that's what the problem was.
The walk to the bookseller's shop seemed farther than it had the day before, but once they arrived, Elena forgot the walk, her escorts, and Gareth's absence in her bed. The tiny, cluttered shop was stacked from floor to ceiling, wall to wall with books. Elena was amazed at the quantity, especially considering they were in the far reaches of Wales.
"I've more books than most of the shops in London," a stooped elderly man said from a wooden chair in the corner. He laid down the book he was reading and pushed himself to his feet, his hair a wild tangle of thin white curls.
"Yes, you do." Elena agreed. "How did you come by them all, especially here."
"Think the Welsh are nothing but illiterate shepherds, eh?" Elena was slightly taken aback and embarrassed, but the old man laughed.
"For the most part, we are!" He paused in his laughter to cough and wipe his mouth with a handkerchief. "But having ships in and out of the harbor allows me to gather books from all over the world. Look here," he said, gesturing for Elena to follow him as he wove through stacks of books to the back corner. "This one is from the land of sand and heathens. Look at those letters! I'll never in a thousand years figure out what they say, but they are fascinating to look at, aren't they? Old Magnus in the square has a son who sails the seas. Every few years he returns home loaded with strange gifts from far off lands. He brought this to me. Said for all their godlessness, the heathens are very educated and write volumes."
Elena took the book from the old man and gingerly leafed through the pages. She had heard stories of the exotic east, passed around from the time of the Crusades. Looking at the text, she thought, Even the script is exotic. Each page was intricately illuminated with vivid colors and gold leaf. Strange birds and animals shared the border space with dark-skinned men wrapped in voluminous robes, riding powerful steeds and bearing curved swords.
"Where are their ladies?" she asked the old man.
"Eh? Ladies? They don't allow them to be seen."
"Don't allow them to be seen? What do you mean?"
"Just that. Mostly the ladies stay indoor where only their male folk can see them. If they ever do go out, they are covered from head to toe in a black cloak, sometimes not even their eyes showing." The old man opened his eyes wide for emphasis and Elena noticed they were clear with vitality--there was no hazy blurring of age in them.
Her mind going back to the heathen women, she was amazed. How could you possibly flirt without your eyes? Surely such a rule was for common women alone. "What about the royal women?"