A Dishonorable Knight(89)

The old bookseller scrunched up his wrinkled face in concentration. "Seems to me Magnus's son said the women who are important are kept even more hidden away. They live in the palace and no men but the--now what did he call them?" He turned and rifled through some papers strewn across the table. "Ah, I knew I'd written down. My memory isn't what it used to be, so I make notes to myself. The sultan, that's what their kings are called. These sultans are the only men who are allowed to see these women."

Fascinated, Elena continued turning the pages of the book, wishing she could read the intricate script. None of the books she had ever read had told her about such exotic lands. She had read accounts of Italy and even Greece and they had proven fascinating enough, but the people in them had behaved similarly enough to those in England that they had not seemed so alien.

"What else did he tell you?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Obviously delighted that he had an avid listener, he pushed a stack of books off of a low bench and wiped the dust off with his sleeve. Gesturing for Elena to sit, he turned to Cynan and Bryant who were standing by the door, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "You need not wait for this young lady, she and I will be occupied for a good while. You may leave and we will send for you when she is ready."

Cynan bowed briefly and told Elena, "I would like to take something back to Enid. If you are comfortable, I will leave you to this good man and return in a while."

"Of course," Elena said graciously.

Cynan looked to Bryant expectantly. "Do you care to join me?"

Bryant shook his head and scowled disapprovingly. "I will wait with Lady Elena."

"There's no need, Bryant," Elena said.

"I will stay," he said implacably.

Cynan looked to Elena and shrugged his shoulders. "Enjoy your books, then."

The bookseller sat in his worn chair with a creak of old bones and old wood. "By the way, I have not introduced myself. I am Llywelyn, named for that great Welsh prince, but much to my father's disappointment bore absolutely none of the warrior's characteristics of that strong man save his name. I gather you are called Lady Elena. Despite your Welsh name, I detect an English accent. Am I correct?"

Elena gave Llywelyn an indulging smile and nodded. "I am rarely wrong on such things," he said as he gestured with his chin toward Bryant. "And who might your rude friend here be?"

Elena turned around and realized Bryant was still standing stiffly by the door, his hands clasped in front of him as he maintained his sentry-like pose. "Oh, that is Bryant."

"Why don't you come sit, boy. Your legs will go numb with you standing like that. Besides, you might learn something."

Bryant shook his head.

Elena, anxious to hear more of the far-off land of heathens, impatiently gestured to the bench on which she was seated. "Bryant, do sit. Now please."

Hesitating only a moment, Bryant hurried across the small room and seated himself next to Elena, glancing shyly at her from the corner of his eye. More interested in Llywelyn's stories than Bryant's silly behavior, Elena turned back to the bookseller and promptly forgot Bryant's presence.

For the next four hours, Elena forgot not only Bryant's presence, but the hardness of her bench, the cramped tininess of the shop, and even the fact that Llywelyn was a mere merchant and under normal circumstances would not be considered appropriate company for a lady-in-waiting of the court. Elena lost all track of time as she listened to Llywelyn's stories. From time to time, the small man would push himself out of his chair and fetch a book off of this shelf or that. He piled dusty manuscript after dusty manuscript on Elena's lap and asked her what she thought of a particular passage or a bit of illumination.

Elena had considered herself more educated than the other ladies at court simply because of the fact that she could and did read. But her studies had never prepared her for immersion into the world of academia. She found herself at times overwhelmed by Llywelyn's questions and at other times, surprisingly comfortable thumbing through a thick volume while she told him what she thought.

They paused at midday and Elena sent Bryant out to purchase some fresh bread while Llywelyn heated a pot of mutton stew over his hearth. After lunch, they pulled still more books off the shelf, looking for accounts of the furthest reaches of globe. Cynan stopped in to see if she was ready to leave but Elena shooed him off. He turned to Bryant who replied that if Lady Elena was staying, so would he. Cynan shook his head in amazement and told them he would see them back at Samuel's that evening.